"He's on his way," the housekeeper reported. "His wife said he just
started out in his auto."
Dr. Gladby hurried into the room a little later, and cast a quick look
at Mr. Swift, who had again lapsed into unconsciousness.
"Do you think he--think he's going to die?" faltered Tom. He was no
longer the self-reliant young inventor. He could meet danger bravely
when it threatened himself alone, but when his father was stricken he
seemed to lose all courage.
"Die? Nonsense!" exclaimed the doctor heartily. "He's not dead yet, at
all events, and while there's life there's hope. I'll soon have him out
of this spell."
It was some little time, however, before Mr. Swift again opened his
eyes, but he seemed to gain strength from the remedies which Dr. Gladby
administered, and in about an hour the inventor could sit up.
"But you must be careful," cautioned the physician. "Don't overdo
yourself. I'll be in again in the morning, and now I'll leave you some
medicine, to be taken every two hours."
"Oh, I feel much better," said Mr.
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