“This is Tom Swift Jr.,” Ames told him.  “Brent Nolan.”

Nolan nodded.  “Yes, I’ve seen your picture in the papers many times.”  The actor tried to force a smile but his face muscles twitched.  “I—­I seem to have pulled a pretty dumb stunt by faking that phone call from your father.  I’m sorry.”

“What was the reason?” Tom asked.

Nolan fingered his wavy blond hair uneasily and swallowed hard.  “A man named Professor Runkle paid me to do it.”

“Professor Runkle?” Tom frowned.  The name seemed vaguely familiar.

“He spoke with a foreign accent.  Said he was doing research at Grandyke University,” Nolan explained.  “He told me you might be expecting a rare biological specimen from the East Indies.  He said both of you were eager to get hold of it for research purposes, but he was afraid that you had outbid him.  However, if he asked you straight out, you would guard the secret very jealously.  So he hired me to find out.”

“Didn’t it occur to you he might be an espionage agent?” Ames asked coldly.

Nolan seemed shocked.  “Believe me, I had no such idea!” he averred.  “Runkle seemed pleasant.  He said it all was merely a short cut to save him from wasting any more time on the project.  If Tom Swift had the specimen, he would quit.  I—­I guess I’m a little bit vain about the way I can mimic voices, and this gave me a chance to show off.  Besides, I saw no harm in doing it.”

“No harm?” Bud snorted.  “You had Swift Enterprises in a real lather when we found out.”

Nolan spread his hands in a helpless gesture.  “I’m truly sorry,” he repeated.

“How were you able to find out how my father’s voice sounded?” Tom asked.

“I listened to a recording of a speech he made at the Fourth of July rally here in Shopton,” Nolan explained.  “I borrowed the tape from a local radio station.  Guess that’s how your security men got onto me.”

“What did this fellow Runkle look like?” Ames asked.

Nolan thought for a moment.  “Oh, he was past middle age, I should say.  Grizzled hair, thick-lensed glasses.  And he was quite heavy-set.”

“Hmm.  Then it certainly wasn’t Narko,” Ames murmured to Tom.

The young inventor nodded.  “I believe I know him.  The name just came back to me.  I met a Professor Runkle in New York about a month ago, at a scientific convention.  He was a member of the visiting Brungarian delegation.”

“We’ll check on him,” Ames promised.  He turned back sternly to the young actor.  “All right, Nolan, I guess you can go.  But I warn you—­no more impersonations.”

After more flustered apologies, the actor hurried out, obviously relieved.

“What a dumb egg he is!” Bud muttered.

“In a way he may have helped us,” Tom pointed out.  “If the Brungarian rebels hadn’t found out about Exman, we couldn’t have lured them into that kidnap plot.  It’s already helped us to save the Bona Fide Submarine Building Corporation.”