CHAPTER XVII

MIDNIGHT VISITORS

“CAN you make a landing on that ball field?” Ned Newton asked, as the young inventor put aside the glasses and took over the steering wheel.

“I doubt it,” was the answer. “It would be too much of a risk to try. That ball field is too small. Though I could make a safe landing in a big enough place without a landing crew by manipulating the gas pressure, I don’t want to try it unless it’s necessary. Might damage the airship, and then I’d be out a lot more money.”

“That’s right. Don’t take any chances,” agreed Ned, who, as befitted a financial manager, was rightfully cautious. “But they see us!” he exclaimed, as he and Tom saw crowds pouring from the hotel, some one having spread word of the sight of the big dirigible.

“Yes, I suppose Mary, dad, and Mr. and Mrs. Nestor are in that bunch,” went on Tom. “I’ll go a bit lower and maybe we can pick ’em out.”

“Wonder if they take us for the _Graf Zeppelin_?” chuckled Ned.

“Oh, dad would know this boat,” Tom answered. “I fancy Mrs. Jardine would, too, for the last time I talked to her she had a small sketch of it she said her brother-in-law had given her.”

“Is Mrs. Jardine still at this hotel?”

“Oh, yes; she and her children. Mary has become quite friendly with them, she wrote me.”

The big dirigible was now just drifting along, the motors having been stopped, and was slowly settling toward the hotel. On the green lawn in front of the hotel the guests had assembled in great excitement. It was so still and quiet, with the machinery cut off, that the cheers of the hotel people could be heard.

“There’s Mary!” Tom exclaimed, pointing out a group of persons detached from the others.

“Yes, I see Mr. Damon, too!” ejaculated Ned. “Look! He’s swinging his hat!”

“He’ll be standing on his head next, he’s so easily excited,” laughed Tom. “I see dad, too! Hand me that bouquet, Ned!”

The bunch of flowers, to which Tom had fastened a little note for his wife, was attached to a small parachute and at the proper time was dropped through a trapdoor opening in the bottom of the main cabin, back of the control room. There was very little wind, and as the _Silver Cloud_ hovered over the hotel Tom, Ned, and the others could see the flowers gently floating down. They fell within a short distance of Mary. Mr. Damon was seen to run and pick them up, and then, observing the note with Mary’s name, he handed them to her.

The air was so clear and the big, floating airship was so close to earth that in the silence which followed the dropping of the flowers, Tom could hear his wife call up to him:

“Thank you!”

Then there was a burst of applause over the clever and romantic feat, and Tom waved his hand to his wife, blowing her a kiss from his fingers, though she may not have seen that action.

To give the guests a good view of the wonderful ship, Tom slowly circled over the hotel several times. Then, to show what his craft could do, he speeded up the motors and raced along at roaring speed. He was higher in the air now, however, and could not make out individuals on the ground.

“Too bad we couldn’t land,” remarked Ned, as, with three dips of her “nose,” Tom made the _Silver Cloud_ wave a final farewell salute to his wife and the others.

“Yes,” the young inventor agreed. “But I think this airship is about finished now, and I’m going to lock her in the hanger and take my vacation.”

“So you think you’ll have to keep her yourself, do you?” asked Ned. “I mean, have you given up the idea of trying to sell the dirigible?”

“I’d be glad to have the government, the Jardines, or any one else buy the _Silver Cloud_ if we could get out of it with a decent profit,” Tom said. “As it is, she’s a white elephant on my hands. But we’ve certainly had no offers for her or even inquiries about her. So I’ll just park her after I make a few more changes and give her a last hard test.”

The trip back to Shopton was without incident, save that one of the motors cut out on account of ignition trouble. But those remaining were more than sufficient to drive the craft along, and she was soon safely housed.

Tom Swift went to his office to make some notes on the trip, incorporating in them suggestions to Mr. Jackson for certain changes, while Ned went over some accounts and tried to think of some way of making the _Silver Cloud_ a profitable venture for the Swift firm.

It was past midnight and all was quiet in the office. The plant was shut down and only the watchmen were making their various rounds to be sure all was well.

Tom was writing a letter to Mary, intending to post it on his way home with Ned, when the latter, giving up with a sigh of regret an attempt to figure some way out of the financial puzzle, suddenly murmured:

“Hark!”

“What to?” Tom asked.

“I thought I heard some one coming along the hall.”

“The watchman, probably.”

“The watchman wouldn’t walk on his tiptoes like a thief,” whispered Ned. “I believe we are going to have unexpected visitors.”

Tom Swift quietly left his seat at the desk and moved softly across the room to the door. He opened it suddenly and as he did so there was a scurrying rush of feet. As Ned leaped to join his chum and Tom switched on a light in the corridor, they saw two dark forms vanishing around a turn.

“Come on!” cried Tom. “We’ve got to catch them!”