"On this side," directed Mr. Damon in a whisper. "The key I have opens
this door."

"But we can't see when we get inside," objected Tom. "I should have
brought a dark lantern."

"I have one of those pocket electric flashlights," said Mr. Damon.
"Bless my candlestick! but I thought of that." And he chuckled
gleefully.

Cautiously they advanced in the darkness. Mr. Damon fumbled at the lock
of the door. The key grated as he turned it. The portal swung back, and
Tom and his friend found themselves inside the shed which, of late, had
been such an object of worry and conjecture to the young inventor. What
would he find there?

"Flash the light," he called to Mr. Damon in a hoarse whisper.

The eccentric man drew it from his packet He pressed the spring switch,
and in an instant a brilliant shaft of radiance shot out, cutting the
intense blackness like a knife. Mr. Damon flashed it on all sides.

But to the amazement of Tom and his companion, it did not illuminate the
broad white wings and stretches of canvas of an aeroplane It only shone
on the bare walls of the shed, and on some piles of rubbish in the
corners. Up and down, to right and left, shot the pencil of light.
"There's--there's nothing here!" gasped Tom,

"I--I guess you're right!" agreed Mr. Damon "The shed is empty!"