"
"Mary didn't telephone again, did she?" Tom asked his father,
as he stopped at the house to get Mr. Damon, having gone out to
see about getting the electric runabout in readiness.
"No," was the answer. "The telephone hasn't rung since."
"Then, I guess, Mr. Nestor can't have arrived home," said Tom.
"It's a bit queer, his delay, but I'm sure it will be explained
naturally. Only Mary and her mother are alone and, very likely,
they're nervous. I'll telephone to let you know everything is all
right as soon as I get there," Tom promised his father and Mrs.
Baggert as he drove off down the road, partly illuminated by the
new moon.
Rapidly and almost as silently as his Air Scout Tom Swift drove
the speedy car down the highway. It was about three miles from
his home to that of Mary Nestor, and though the distance was
quickly covered, to Tom, at least, the space seemed interminable.
But at length he drove up to the door. There were lights in most
of the rooms, which was unusual at this time of night.
The sound of the wheels had not ceased echoing on the gravel of
the drive before Mary was out on the porch, which she illuminated
by an overhead light.
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