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Chunks of Metal Rushing Through Space

"But our meteor was no ordinary one as we have proved already," replied Tom. "I firmly believe that someone on another planet deliberately fired that missile into space, hoping it would reach this world. Since scientists agree that Mars probably is inhabited by a highly intelligent race, that planet is a reasonable guess."

"Whew!" whistled Ned. "Such ideas are beyond me."

"Someone on Another Planet Fired the Missile."

As he finished speaking, the boys reached the Swift residence. The young inventor's father had built the handsome white house many years before his son was born. Beyond were the several buildings where the inventions of Tom Swift and his father, Barton Swift, were manufactured.

Of recent years the latter had not been active, but had put the affairs in the hands of his capable son Tom, ably assisted by Ned Newton. The older man now spent most of his time writing scientific books and articles.

The Boys Reached the Swift Residence

The boys washed as quickly as possible so as not to delay dinner, for both possessed healthy appetites. Joining Mr. Swift in the library, they found him and Mr. Damon deep in a game of chess.

"Check!" cried Tom's father triumphantly, moving his king. "Got you again, Damon!"

"Bless my pawns and castles!" exclaimed the eccentric gentleman. "You've won three straight games!"

Mr. Swift, Tom's Father

"Hello, Dad!" said Tom suddenly. "I see you're up to your old tricks!" In spite of his bantering tone the young inventor was pleased that his father was relaxing in a friendly game.

"Your father shouldn't be in the amateur class any more, Tom!" Mr. Damon grumbled playfully. "Bless my trophy cup, but I'm afraid to play with him!"

"Better luck next time," consoled Mr. Swift, a twinkle in his eye.

Mr. Damon left, refusing an invitation to dinner and saying that he had to take his car to a garage for a minor repair job before starting for his home in Waterford, a near-by town.

"Hello, Dad," Said Tom

"How goes it with you, son?" asked Mr. Swift when Tom returned from seeing his guest to the door. "Your new space eye, as you call it—is it working out?"

"I think so, Dad, but wait until I get the big model built!"

Tom Saw Mr. Damon to the Door

"Genmens, dinnah am serbed!" An old negro thrust his white-fringed head through the library door. "An' it sho' am good!" Eradicate Sampson, so-called for his work in younger days of eradicating dirt from the homes of Shopton, had been attached to the Swift household for many years and now regarded himself as one of the family.

As they sat at table the conversation of the three turned naturally to Tom's latest invention. Mr. Swift had not heard yet all Tom's ideas of the proposed telescope and was full of eager questions.

Eradicate Sampson

"Just how long do you think it will take to make your big disk, son?" asked Mr. Swift. "That is, if you find any more of the new material."

"The meteorite is already on board a north-bound freight steamer," answered Tom, "and ought to get here within the next ten days. It'll require at least three weeks to extract all the X and cast it into shape. Taking everything into consideration, I should say it will be at least six weeks before we can test the device. The matter depends entirely on finding a lot of X in the planet stone. But I'm sure I shall."

"The Meteorite Is Northbound!"

After dinner the boys went over to the main office of the Swift Construction Company to clear up a number of routine business matters which required Tom's personal attention. He had postponed them for a while to give more time to his new experiments.

The Boys Went to the Main Office

"Now, young fellow, I'm not letting you get away until you've looked over these papers!" declared Ned, pretending to threaten his chum with a yardstick. "I've been after you for a week about 'em!"

Tom dodged and pretended to be scared. "You're right, though," he admitted.

The two worked rapidly. Within an hour the seemingly endless stack of documents had shrunk to a few letters and bills. Just as Ned was reaching for one of them the telephone rang in the outer office.

The Two Worked Rapidly

"I'll get it, Tom," his chum said.

"Sit still," replied the young inventor. "I'll switch it to my private phone."

"Tom Swift speaking," he said into the mouthpiece a moment later. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Damon. What's that? But I don't understand. No, there must be some mistake!" A loud click sounded in the receiver and Tom jerked the instrument from his ear.

"What's wrong?" asked Ned, noting his friend's serious face.

Tom Jerked the Instrument From His Ear

"Mr. Damon's been hurt in an auto accident. For some reason his wife is blaming it on me! Come, we must get to the hospital at once!"

"Mr. Damon's Been Hurt!"

CHAPTER IV

A MURDEROUS ATTEMPT

"You drive, Tom," said Ned, for they had come from the Swift home in his car.

"O.K., and hang onto your hat!"

Tom Swift had once driven a fast racing auto of his own design and Ned knew his chum could get the most out of his roadster. In a few seconds the little car reached the gate of the works, where the watchman halted them.

"Hang on to Your Hat."

"Oh, an' 'tiz you agin, Misther Swift," said Malligan. "Sure, an' I wouldn't have stopped yez but me orders is to inspect iveryone."

"You did right, Pat," commended Tom, shifting gears. "Good-night."

The Shopton Hospital was located a couple of miles from the Swift plant. Under the young scientist's guidance the roadster reached its entrance within a few minutes. At