Then came a mighty crash, and
with that the flood-gates of the storm were opened, and the rain
came down in torrents. Tom actually breathed a sigh of relief.
The problem was solved for him. It would be impossible to start
to-night, and he was glad of it, much as he wanted to get on the
trail of the thieves.
There was a scurrying on the part of the hotel attendants to close
the windows, and the guests who had been enjoying the air out on
the porches came running in. With a rush, a roar and a muttering,
as peal after peal of thunder sounded, the deluge continued.
"It's a good thing we didn't start," observed Ned.
"I should say so," agreed Tom. "But we'll get off the first thing
in the morning, dad."
Mr. Swift did not reply, but his nervous pacing to and fro in the
hotel office showed how anxious he was to be at home again. There
was no help for it, however, and, after a time, finding that to
think of reaching his house that night was out of the question,
the inventor calmed down somewhat,
The storm continued nearly all night, as Tom could bear witness,
for he did not sleep well, nor did his father. And when he came
down to breakfast in the morning Mr. Swift plainly showed the
effects of the bad news. His face was haggard and drawn and his
eyes smarted and burned from lack of sleep.
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