Dangling by a wire from a crossbeam was a large white cardboard sign. On it was crudely printed:
WE EXPECTED YOU, TOM SWIFT JR.
The young inventor gasped, partly in fury, partly in disbelief. “But how-” he asked, puzzled. “How could anyone have learned we were coming here? You know how careful we were about planning this raid in secret!”
Bud stared in bewilderment, then flashed for Radnor and Ames. When they entered, he pointed to the swinging sign.
“So they beat us to the draw,” Harlan said in disgust. He walked over and studied the message. “It was placed here within the hour, Tom. The ink on the printing is still wet enough to smear.”
“But how did your enemies find out our strategy. Tom?” said Radnor. “It seems incredible.”
“They couldn’t have tapped the videophone lines,” Tom said. “The signals are sent scrambled,
A MECHANICAL COMEDIAN 57
modulated against random noise. Only our own receivers have built-in decoding records. And certainly no one was spying on my home,” he added. “No signal sounded to show anyone tried to cross the magnetized zone around the house.”
“That,” said Ames, “leaves only the plant. There must have been a security leak at Swift Enterprises, sometime within the past two hours. It’s the only other way our plans could have become known so quickly and thoroughly.”
“Everyone at the plant has been double-checked.’ Radnor spoke up. “And there were no visitors after four o’clock. I can’t understand a slip-up like this.”
Harlan Ames began to pace the floor of the shack. “We’ll run another check,”
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