“I get you, Tom.”

Ned did as requested.  Slowly the illumination in the booth increased.

“Do you get anything, Tom?” asked Ned, over the wire.

“Not yet,” was the somewhat discouraged answer.  “Go ahead, turn on more light, and keep your face close to the plate.”

Ned did so.

“How about it now?” he asked, a moment later.

“Nothing—­yet,” was the answer.  And then suddenly Tom’s voice rose to a scream over the wire.

“Ned—­Ned!  Quick!” he called.  “Come here—­I—­I—­”

The voice died off into a meaningless gurgle.

CHAPTER X

MIDNIGHT VISITORS

Ned Newton never knew exactly how he got out of the telephone booth.  He seemed to give but one jump, tearing the clamped receiver from his ear, and almost upsetting the photo apparatus in his mad rush to help Tom.  Certain it is, however, that he did get out, and a few seconds later he was speeding toward the shop where Tom had taken his position in a booth.

Ned burst in, crying out: 

“Tom!  What is it?  What happened?  What’s the matter?”

There was no answer.  Fearing the worst, Ned hurried to the small booth, in one corner of the big, dimly lighted shop.  He could see Tom’s lamp burning in the telephone compartment,

“Tom!  Tom!” called the young banker.

Still there was no answer, and Ned, springing forward, threw open the double, sound-proof door of the booth.  Then he saw Tom lying unconscious, with his head and arms on the table in front of him, while the low buzzing of the electrical apparatus in the transmitting box told that the current had not been shut off.

“Tom!  Tom!” cried Ned in his chum’s ear He shook him by the shoulder,

“Are you hurt?  What is the matter?”

The young inventor seemed unconscious, and for a moment Ned had a wild idea that Tom had been shocked to death, possibly by some crossed live wire coming in contact with the telephone circuit.

“But that couldn’t have happened, or I’d have been shocked myself,” mused Ned.

Then he became aware of a curious, sweet, sickish odor in the booth.  It was overpowering.  Ned felt himself growing dizzy.

“I have it—­chloroform!” he gasped.  “In some way Tom has been overcome by chloroform.  I’ve got to get him to the fresh air.”

Once he had solved the puzzle of Tom’s unconsciousness, Ned was quick to act.  He caught Tom under the arms, and dragged him out of the booth, and to the outer door of the shop.  Almost before Ned had reached there with his limp burden, Tom began to revive, and soon the fresh, cool night air completed the work.

“I—­I,” began the young inventor.  “Ned, I—­I—­”

“Now take it easy, Tom,” advised his chum.  “You’ll be all right in a few minutes.  What happened?  Shall I call your father, or Koku?”