Tom went to a telephone in the lobby of the club and dialed the number. A man’s voice answered. Tom introduced himself, then asked, “Who is this speaking?”
The person at the other end of the line hemmed 139
140 COSMIC ASTRONAUTS
and hawed for a few moments, as if afraid to reveal his identity, but finally said that his name was Alf Turbot.
“I understand you accused me of stealing your coat,” Tom went on.
“N-n-now don’t get me wrong!” the man stuttered hastily. “I ain’t callin’ you a thief, understand, but you and your buddy did grab my jacket the other night at the freight yard.”
“We grabbed a jacket, all right, while trying to catch a prowler,” Tom retorted coldly. “If you’re the owner and you were doing nothing wrong, why did you run away from us?”
Turbot’s voice sounded nervous. “Well, I-I guess I just got scared, that’s all.”
“Why?”
” ‘Cause I thought you guys were detectives,” Turbot admitted. “I hadn’t broken the law or anything-I just figgered it was smarter not to get mixed up with the cops.”
Turbot explained that he had overheard Tom’s name when the boys first spoke to the night watchman. The next day when he had realized that “Tom Swift” was not a detective, but the famous young inventor connected with Swift Enterprises, he had decided to ask for his coat.
Tom was wary. “If the jacket really belongs to you, then you must know what was in the pocket.”
“Sure. A little notebook,” Turbot replied promptly, “for keepin’ track o’ my money.”
THE SPANKING SUNSPOT 141
“There’s an entry in the notebook that says someone ‘hooked’ you for ten dollars,” Tom went on. “Who was that?”