"Give me your
attention for a few minutes, and we will proceed with the business
in hand. As you all know, I am about to dispose of a fine motor-
boat, the property of Mr. Bently Hastings. The reason for
disposing of it at auction is known to most of you, but for the
benefit of those who do not, I will briefly state them. The boat
was stolen by a gang of thieves and recovered recently through the
efforts of a young man, Thomas Swift, son of Barton Swift, our
fellow-townsman, of Shopton." At that moment the auctioneer, Jacob
Wood, caught sight of Tom in the press, and, looking directly at
the lad, continued:
"I understand that young Mr. Swift is here to-day, and I hope he
intends to bid on this boat. If he does, the bidding will be
lively, for Tom Swift is a lively young man. I wish I could say
that some of the men who stole the boat were here to-day."
The auctioneer paused and there were some murmurs from those in
the throng as to why such a wish should be uttered. Tom felt some
one moving near him, and, looking around, he saw the same man with
whom he had come in contact before. The person seemed desirous of
getting out on the edge of the crowd, and Tom felt a return of his
vague suspicions. He looked closely at the fellow, but could
trace no resemblance to any of the men who had so daringly stolen
his father's model.
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