“Yes, something happened,” admitted Tom.  “They got the Eagle, Rad.”

“What!  Yo’ big airship?”

“Yes.”

“Huh!  Dat’s too bad, Massa Tom.  I suah am sorry t’ heah dat.  Who done it?”

“We don’t know, Rad.”

“Maybe it was dat low-down cousin ob mine what tried t’ git mah chickens, onct!”

“No, Rad, it wasn’t your cousin.  But I’ll telephone the alarm to the police.  They may be able to help me get the Eagle back.”

Within the next hour several messages were sent to the authorities of nearby towns, asking them to be on the watch for the stolen airship.  This was about all that could be done, and after Mr. Swift had been told the story of the night’s happenings, everyone went back to bed again.

Further search the next morning brought forth no clues, though Tom, Ned and the others beat about in the bushes where the men had disappeared.

One or two reports were heard from surrounding towns, to the effect that several persons had heard a strange throbbing sound in the night, that, possibly, was caused by the passage of the airship overhead.  One such report came from Waterford, the home town of Mr. Damon.

“Let’s go over there,” suggested Ned, to his chum.  “I’d like to see our friend, and maybe we can get some other clues by circulating around there.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” spoke Tom, rather listlessly.

“Why not?” Ned wanted to know.

“Well, I ought to be working on my photo telephone,” was the answer.  “I’ve got a new idea now.  I’m going to try a different kind of current, and use a more sensitive plate.  And I’ll use a tungsten filament lamp in the sending booth.”

“Oh, let your experiments go for a little while, Tom,” suggested Ned.  “Come on over to Mr. Damon’s.  The trouble with you is that you keep too long at a thing, once you start.”

“That’s the only way to succeed,” remarked Tom.  “Really, Ned, while I feel sorry about the airship, of course, I ought to be working on my telephone.  I’ll get the Eagle back sooner or later.”

“That’s not the way to talk, Tom.  Let’s follow up this clue.”

“Well, if you insist on it I suppose I may as well go.  We’ll take the little monoplane.  I’ve fixed her up to carry double.  I guess—­ "

Tom Swift broke off suddenly, as the telephone at his elbow rang.

“Hello,” he said, taking off the receiver.  “Yes, this is Tom Swift.  Oh, good morning, Mrs. Damon!  Eh!  What’s that?  Mr. Damon has disappeared?  You don’t tell me!  Disappeared!  Yes, yes, I can come right over.  Be there in a few minutes.  Eh?  You don’t know what to make of it?  Oh, well, maybe it can easily be explained.  Yes, Ned Newton and I will be right over.  Don’t worry.”

Tom hung up the receiver and turned to his chum.

“What do you think of that?” he asked.

“What is it?”

“Why, Mr. Damon mysteriously vanished last night, and this morning word came from his bankers that every cent of his fortune had disappeared!  He’s lost everything!”