All sat watching the clock, and looking from that to the
telephone, which they tried to hope would ring momentarily and
transmit to them good news. Then they would listen for the sound
of footsteps or bicycle wheels on the gravel walk. But they heard
nothing, and as the seconds were ticked off on the clock the
nervousness of Mrs. Nestor increased, until she exclaimed:
"I can stand it no longer! We must notify the police--or do
something!"
"I wouldn't notify the police just yet," counseled Tom. "Mr.
Damon and I will start out and look along the road. If it should
happen, as will probably turn out to be the case, that Mr. Nestor
has met with only a simple accident, he would not like the
notoriety, or publicity, of having the police notified."
"No, I am sure he would not," agreed Mary. "Tom's way is best,
Mother."
"All right, just as you say, only find my husband," and Mrs.
Nestor sighed, and turned her head away.
"Even if Mr. Nestor had had a fall," reasoned Tom, "he could
call for help, and get some one to telephone, unless--"
And as he reasoned thus Tom Swift gave a mental start at his
own use of the word "help.
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