“He seems to have considerable mail business,” thought Tom, and then the matter passed from his mind as he mounted his wheel and hurried to the machine shop.

“Say, I’m awfully sorry,” announced Mr. Merton when Tom said he had come for the bolts, “but they’re not quite done.  They need polishing.  I know I promised them to your father to-day, and he can have them, but he was very particular about the polish, and as one of my best workers was taken sick, I’m a little behind.”

“How long will it take to polish them?” asked Tom.

“Oh, about an hour.  In fact, a man is working on them now.  If you could call this afternoon they’ll be ready.  Can you?”

“I s’pose I’ve got to,” replied Tom good-naturedly.  “Guess I’ll have to stay in Mansburg for dinner.  I can’t get back to Shopton in time now.”

“I’ll be sure to have them for you after dinner,” promised Mr. Merton.  “Now, there’s a matter I want to speak to you about, Tom.  Has your father any idea of giving the work he has been turning over to me to some other firm?”

“Not that I know of.  Why?” and the lad showed his wonder.

“Well, I’ll tell you why.  Some time ago there was a stranger in here, asking about your father’s work.  I told Mr. Swift of it at the time.  The stranger said then that he and some others were thinking of opening a machine shop, and he wanted to find out whether they would be likely to get any jobs from your father.  I told the man I knew nothing about Mr. Swift’s business, and he went away.  I didn’t hear any more of it, though of course I didn’t want to lose your father’s trade.  Now a funny thing happened.  Only this morning the same man was back here, and he was making particular inquiries about your father’s private machine shops.”

“He was?” exclaimed Tom excitedly.

“Yes.  He wanted to know where they were located, how they were laid out, and what sort of work he did in them.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing at all.  I suspected something, and I said the best way for him to find out would be to go and see your father.  Wasn’t that right?”

“Sure.  Dad doesn’t want his business known any more than he can help.  What do you suppose they wanted?”

“Well, the man talked as though he and his partners would like to buy your father’s shops.”

“I don’t believe he’d sell.  He has them arranged just for his own use in making patents, and I’m sure he would not dispose of them.”

“Well, that’s what I thought, but I didn’t tell the man so.  I judged it would be best for him to find out for himself.”

“What was the man’s name?”

“He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask him.”

“How did he look?”

“Well, he was well dressed, wore kid gloves and all that, and he had a little black mustache.”

Tom started, and Mr. Merton noticed it.

“Do you know him?” he asked.