e bank employee with that suave,
formal air which usually precedes a business meeting.

"That is my name," said Tom, with a suppressed grin, and he spoke as
stiffly as though to a perfect stranger.

"Mr. Tom Swift, the great inventor?" went on Ned.

"Yes."

"Ah, then I am at the right place. Just sign here, please, on the
dotted line," and he held out a blank form, and a fountain pen to Tom,
who took them half mechanically.

"Huh? What's the big idea, Ned?" asked the young inventor, unable
longer to carry on the joke. "Is this a warrant for my arrest, or
merely a testimonial to you. If it's the latter, and concerns your
nerve, I'll gladly sign it."

"Well, it's something like that!" laughed Ned. "That's your application
for another block of Liberty Bonds, Tom, and I want you, as a personal
favor to me, as a business favor to the bank, and as your plain duty to
Uncle Sam, to double your last subscription."

Tom looked at the sum Ned had filled in on the blank form, and uttered
a slight whistle of surprise.

"That's all right now," said Ned, with the air of a professional
salesman. "You can stand that and more, too. I'm letting you off easy.
Why, I got Mary's father--Mr. Nestor--for twice what he took last time,
and Mary herself--hard as she's working for the Red Cross--gave me a
nice application. So it's up to you to--"

"Nuff said!" exclaimed Tom, sententiously, as he signed his name. "I
may have to reconsider my recent refusal of the offer of the Universal
Flying Machine Company, though, if I haven't money enough to meet this
subscription, Ned."

"Oh, you'll meet it all right! Much obliged," and Ned folded the
Liberty Bond subscription paper and put it in his pocket. "But did you
turn down the offer from those people?"

"I did," answered Tom. "But how did you know about it, Ned?"

"First let me say that I'm glad you decided to have nothing to do with
them. They're a rich firm, and have lots of money, but I wouldn't trust
'em, even if they have some government contracts. The way I happened
to know they were likely to make you an offer is this," continued Ned
Newton.

"They do business with one of the New York banks with which my
bank--notice the accent on the my, Tom--is connected. The other day I
happened to see some correspondence about you. These flying machine
people asked our bank to find out certain things about you, and, as a
matter of business, we had to give the information. Sort of a
commer