I hope you're right," said his business manager. "But you know better than anyone else how unscrupulous gangs have tried to steal your inventions. At first it was Happy Harry the tramp, and the last was Doctor Bane. No telling how many thugs were after you and your father in between. I think Koku is well able to handle any intruder," declared Tom confidently. "Besides, I think you're getting excited over nothing. That's all very well," persisted his friend stubbornly, "but just suppose Mr. Damon is right in his suspicions? Don't worry, old man. My Chest of Secrets will hold its contents secure against any burglar's attack. Now it's late. You'd better stay to dinner. There's our goal, Ned," murmured Tom, pointing to the red planet. "I feel sure that our meteorite came from that far-off world! Granting that it did come from another planet," objected Ned, "I don't get the reason why you're so sure it came from Mars. There are nine planets circling the sun, including the earth.
If it were simply a matter of chance, there'd be a lot of weight behind your argument, Ned. But a lot of other factors enter the problem. I should say that the only planets where life as we know it might exist are Mars and Venus. The latter I ruled out, for astronomers have found that it is forever covered thickly with dense clouds. What have people on the planets got to do with the question, anyhow? Huge chunks of metal break off of any heavenly body and go hurtling through space. The inhabitants don't throw them off! 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. Check!" cried Tom's father triumphantly, moving his king. "Got you again, Damon! Bless my pawns and castles! You've won three straight games! Hello, Dad!" said Tom suddenly. "I see you're up to your old tricks!
Your father shouldn't be in the amateur class any more, Tom! Bless my trophy cup, but I'm afraid to play with him! How goes it with you, son? 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! Genmens, dinnah am serbed! An' it sho' am good! Just how long do you think it will take to make your big disk, son? 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. Now, young fellow, I'm not letting you get away until you've looked over these papers! I've been after you for a week about 'em! 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! Mr. Damon's been hurt in an auto accident. For some reason his wife is blaming it on me!
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