"I guess not, my boy! Well, it won't happen if we get there in time with this new explosive of yours.That will do the business I'm sure.""I hope so," murmured Tom."Well, we'll soon see.And now I think I'll go and write a few letters.We are going to put in at Panama, and I can mail them there."Tom started for his stateroom, and rapidly put his hand in the inner pocket of his coat.He drew out a bundle of letters and papers, and, as he looked at them, a cry of astonishment came from his lips.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr.Titus.
"Matter!" cried Tom."Why here's a letter from Mary--from Mr.Nestor," he went on, as he scanned the familiar handwriting."I never opened it! Let's see--when did I get that?"His memory went back to the day of his departure from Shopton when he had sent Mary the gift, and he recalled that the letter had arrived just as he was getting into the automobile.
"I stuck it in my pocket with some other mail," he mused, "and I neverthought of it again until just now.But this is the first time I've worn this coat since that day.A letter from Mr.Nestor! Probably Mary wrote, thanking me for the box, and her father addressed the envelope for her.Well, let's see what it says."Tom retired to the privacy of his stateroom to read the note, but he had not glanced over more than the first half of it before he cried out:
"Dynamite! Great Scott! What does this mean? 'Gross carelessness! Poor idea of a joke! No person with your idea of responsibility will ever be my son-in-law!' Box labeled 'open with care!' Why--why--what does it all mean?"Tom read the letter over again, and his murmurs of astonishment were so loud that Mr.Damon, in the next room, called out:
"What's the matter, Tom?" Get bad news?"
"Bad news? I should say so! Mary--her father--he forbids me to see her again.Says I tried to dynamite them all--or at least scare them into believing I was going to.I can't understand it!""Tell me about it, Tom," suggested Mr.Damon, coming into Tom's stateroom."Bless my gunpowder keg! what does it mean?"Thereupon Tom told of having purchased the gift for Mary, and of having, at the last minute, told Eradicate to put it in a box and deliver it at the Nestor home.
"Which he evidently did," Tom went on, "but when it got there Mary's present was in a box labeled 'Dynamite.Handle with care.' I never sent that."Mr.Damon read over Mr.Nestor's letter which had lain so long in Tom's pocket unopened.
"I think I see how it happened," said the old man."Eradicate can't read; can he, Tom?""No, but he pretends he can."
"And did you have any empty boxes marked dynamite in your laboratory?""Why yes, I believe I did.I used dynamite as one of the ingredients of my new explosive.""Well then, it's as clear as daylight.Eradicate, being unable to read,took one of the empty dynamite boxes in which to pack Mary's present.That's how it happened."Tom thought for a moment.Then he burst into a laugh.
"That's it," he said, a bit ruefully."That's the explanation.No wonder Mr.Nestor was roiled.He thought I was playing a joke.I'll have to explain.But how?""By letter," said Mr.Damon.
"Too slow.I'll send a wireless," decided Tom, and he began the composition of a message that cost him considerable in tolls before he had hit on the explanation that suited him.
"That ought to clear the atmosphere," he said when the wireless had shot his message into the ether."Whew! And to think, all this while, Mary and her folks have believed that I tried to play a miserable joke on them! My! My! I wonder if they'll ever forgive me.When I get hold of Eradicate--""Better teach him to read if he's going to do up love packages," interrupted Mr.Damon, dryly.
"I will," decided the young inventor.
The Bellaconda stopped at Panama and then kept on her way south.Soon after that she ran into a severe tropical storm, and for a time there was some excitement among the passengers.The more timid of them put on life preservers, though the captain and his officers assured them there was no danger.
Tom and Mr.Titus, descending from the deck, whence they had been warned by one of the mates, were on their way to their stateroom, walking with some difficulty owing to the roll of the ship.
As they approached their quarters the door of a stateroom farther up the passage opened, and a head was thrust out.
"Will you send a steward to me?" a man requested."I am feeling very ill, and need assistance.""Certainly," Tom answered, and at that moment he heard Mr.Titus utter an exclamation.
"What is it?" asked Tom, for the man who had appealed for help, had withdrawn his head.
"That--that man!" exclaimed the contractor."That was Waddington, the tool of our rivals.""Waddington!" repeated Tom, with a look at the now closed door."Why, the bearded man has that stateroom--the bearded man who so nearly lost the steamer.He isn't Waddington!""And I tell you Waddington is in that room!" insisted the contractor."I only saw the upper part of his face, but I'd know his eyes anywhere.Waddington is spying on us!"
