"Bless my dark-lantern! Where are you, Tom?" called Mr. Damon as he entered the dim shed where the somewhat frail-appearing aeroplane loomed¹ up in the semi-darkness, for it was afternoon, and rather cloudy. "Where are you?"  
"Here!" called the young inventor. "I'm glad to see you! Come in!"
 
"Ah! there it is, eh?" exclaimed the odd man, as he looked at the aeroplane, for there had been much work done on it since he had last seen it. "Bless my parachute, Tom! But it looks as though you could blow it over."
 
"It's stronger than it seems," replied the lad. "But, Mr. Damon, I've got something very important to talk to you about."
 
Thereupon Tom told all about Mr. Sharp's visit, of Andy's entry in the big race, and of the suspicions of himself and the balloonist.
 
"And what is it you wish me to do?" asked Mr. Damon.
 
"Work up some clues against Andy Foger."
 
"Good! I'll do it! I'd like to get ahead of that bully² and his father, who once tried to wreck³ the bank I'm interested in. I'll help you, Tom! I'll play detective! Let me see—what disguise shall I assume? I think I'll take the part of a tramp. Bless my ham sandwich! That will be the very thing. I'll get some ragged⁴ clothes, let my beard grow again—you see I shaved it off since my last visit—and I'll go around to the Foger place and ask for work. Then I can get inside the shed and look around. How's that for a plan?"
 
"It might be all right," agreed Tom, "only I don't believe you're cut out for the part of a tramp, Mr. Damon."
 
"Bless my fingernails! Why not?"
 
"Oh, well, it isn't very pleasant to go around in ragged clothes."
 
"Don't mind about me. I'll do it." And the odd gentleman seemed quite delighted at the idea. He and Tom talked it over at some length, and then adjourned⁵ to the house, where Mr. Swift, who had seemed to improve in the last few days, was told of the plan.
 
"Couldn't you go around after evidence just as you are?" asked the aged⁶ inventor. "I don't much care for this disguising business."
 
"Oh, it's very necessary," insisted Mr. Damon earnestly. "Bless my gizzard! but it's very necessary. Why, if I went around the Foger place as I am now, they'd know me in a minute, and I couldn't find out what I want to know."
 
"Well, if you keep on blessing⁷ yourself," said Tom, with a laugh, "they'll know you, no matter what disguise you put on, Mr. Damon."
 
"That's so," admitted the eccentric gentleman. "I must break myself of that habit. I will. Bless my topknot! I'll never do it any more. Bless my trousers buttons!"
 
"I'm afraid you'll never do it!" exclaimed Tom.
 
"It is rather hard," said Mr. Damon ruefully, as he realized what he had said. "But I'll do it. Bless—"
 
He paused a moment, looked at Tom and his father, and then burst into a laugh. The habit was more firmly fastened on him than he was aware.
 
For several hours Tom, his father and Mr. Damon discussed various methods of proceeding⁸, and it was finally agreed that Mr. Damon should first try to learn what Andy was doing, if anything, without resorting to a disguise.
 
"Then, if that doesn't work, I'll become a tramp," was the decision of the odd character. "I'll wear the raggedest clothes I can find Bless—" But he stopped in time.
 
Mr. Damon took up his residence in the Swift household, as he had often done before, and for the next week he went and came as he pleased, sometimes being away all night.
 
"It's no use, though," declared Mr. Damon at the end of the week. "I can't get anywhere near that shed, nor even get a glimpse inside of it. I haven't been able to learn anything, either. There are two gardeners on guard all the while, and several times when I've tried to go in the side gate, they've stopped me."
 
"Isn't there any news of Andy about town?" asked Tom. "I should think Sam or Pete would know where he is."
 
"Well, I didn't ask them, for they'd know right away why I was inquiring," said Mr. Damon, "but it seems to me as if there was something queer going on. If Andy Foger is working in that shed of his, he's keeping mighty⁹ quiet about it. Bless my—"
 
And once more he stopped in time. He was conquering the habit in a measure.
 
"Well, what do you propose to do next?" asked Tom.
 
"Disguise myself like a tramp, and go there looking for work," was the firm answer. "There are plenty of odd jobs on a big place such as the Foger family have. I'll find out what I want to know, you see."
 
It seemed useless to further combat this resolution, and, in a few days Mr. Damon presented a very different appearance. He had on a most ragged suit, there was a scrubby beard on his face, and he walked with a curious shuffle¹⁰, caused by a pair of big, heavy shoes which he ha............