“Maybe, Rad.  Well, now go ahead and nail up the rest of these boxes.  We want to get started as soon as we can,” and the colored man got busy, murmuring from time to time something about oranges and bananas and cocoanuts.

Everyone was occupied in getting matters in shape for the trip to South America, even Mr. Swift laying aside his work on his pet invention—­a gyroscope—­while he helped his son.  And had Tom not been quite so engrossed with his preparations he might have gone about town more, in which case he would have learned something that might have saved him and the others considerable trouble and no little danger.  And this fact was that Andy Foger had been in Shopton several times lately.

After the trouble which the red-haired bully and his father caused Tom and his friends on their trip to the city of gold, Mr. Foger moved away from Shopton.  He had lost his fortune and had to begin all over again.  The Foger homestead was closed up, and Andy ceased to be a fixture of the town, for which Tom and Ned were very glad.

But of late Andy had been seen in Shopton several times, and it was noticed that, on one or two occasions, he had a man with him—­a man who seemed to have plenty of money—­a man with an air about him not unlike that of Mr. Preston.  A man with what newspaper men would have called a circus or theatrical “air.”

This man had visited Shopton soon after Mr. Preston made the giant proposition to Tom, and before meeting Andy Foger had made special inquiries about Tom Swift.

“Who are the people who have a hard feeling against this young inventor in town?” the man had asked of several persons.

“Tom Swift has more friends than enemies,” was the general reply.

“Oh, surely he must have some enemies,” the man insisted.  “He’s been running his aeroplanes and autos around town a long time, and surely there must be some one who has a grudge against him.  I suppose he has lots of friends, but who are his enemies?”

Then he learned about Andy Foger, and, hearing that Andy now lived in a nearby town, the man had at once gone there.  It was not long before he reappeared—­and the red-haired bully was with him.

“And you haven’t learned anything yet, Andy?” asked this mysterious man one afternoon, when he met his tool in a quiet resort in Shopton.

“Nothing yet, Mr. Waydell.  But give me a little more time.”

“Time!  You’ve had more time now than you need.  When I agreed to pay you for finding out what part of South America Tom Swift would head for to get some sort of a freak or animal for Preston’s circus I thought you’d make good quicker than this.”

“So did I. But you see Tom is suspicious of me, and so is his chum, Ned Newton.  I can’t go to them, and if I’m seen sneaking around the house or shop, after what happened last, I’ll be driven off.”

“Well, it’s up to you.  I paid you to get the information and I expect you to do it.  Why don’t you tackle that old colored man whom, I understand, works for him?  He ought to be simple enough to give the game away.”