"I'm going to
put you down as a possible contestant for the ten-thousand-dollar prize.
That can do no harm, and I hope you win it. I trust--"
He paused suddenly, and listened. So did Tom Swift and his father, for
they all distinctly heard stealthy footsteps under the open windows of
the library.
"Some one is out there, listening," said Tom in low tones.
"Perhaps it's Eradicate Sampson," suggested Mr. Swift, referring to the
eccentric colored man who was employed by the inventor and his son to
help around the place. "Very likely it was Eradicate, Tom."
"I don't think so," was the lad's answer. "He went to the village a
while ago, and said he wouldn't be back until late to-night. He had to
get some medicine for his mule, Boomerang, who is sick. No, it wasn't
Eradicate; but some one was under that window, trying to hear what we
said."
As he spoke in guarded tones, Tom went softly to the casement and looked
out. He could observe nothing, as the night was dark, and the new moon,
which had been shining, was now dimmed by clouds.
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