"Oh, I couldn't do that," said Tom. "I don't mind walking. I'm wet
through now, and I can't get much wetter. I'm much obliged, though."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I can hardly take you and the bicycle, too,"
continued the chauffeur.

"Certainly not," added a voice from the tonneau of the car. "We
can't have a muddy bicycle in here. Who is that person, Simpson?"

"It's a young man," answered the driver.

"Is he acquainted around here?" went on the voice from the rear of
the car. "Ask him if he is acquainted around here, Simpson."

Tom was wondering where he had heard that voice before. He had a
vague notion that it was familiar.

"Are you acquainted around here?" obediently asked the man at the
wheel.

"I live here," replied Tom.

"Ask him if he knows any one named Swift?" continued the voice from
the tonneau, and the driver started to repeat it.

"I heard him," interrupted Tom. "Yes, I know a Mr. Swift;" but Tom,
with a sudden resolve, and one he could hardly explain, decided
that, for the present, he would not betray his own identity.

"Ask him if Mr. Swift is an inventor." Once more the unseen person