“Beats me.” Tom studied the pieces with a frown. “It’s an old trick for confusing radar, of course, but what’s the purpose?”
“Were they dropped from a plane?” Bud put in.
“No, the control tower says none passed over the plant,” Ames replied.
“Must have been projected from outside the plant wall-maybe by someone in a car speeding along the highway,” Tom speculated.
“But how could thin foil like this stuff be projected so high in the air?” Bud objected.
“Easy,” Tom said. “Stack the stuff together in a tight, compact bundle with some kind of fuse release.” He added, “Maybe we ought to make sure this stuff really is aluminum foil.”
The two boys and Ames hurried to Tom’s private laboratory. Here the young inventor examined several pieces of the foil, under X rays and with a Swift spectroscope.
When he finished, Tom looked at the others, baffled.
“Just plain aluminum foil, that’s all.”
Ames, equally puzzled, finally left the laboratory. He promised to launch a thorough search for clues outside the plant wall.
Suddenly Bud snapped his fingers. “Hey, you forgot your visitor, Tom!” he exclaimed.
“Oh-oh. I’d better call and apologize.” Picking up the telephone, Tom dialed his office. “Let
A JUNGLE MYSTERY 43
me speak to Darcy Creel, please,” he said when Miss Trent answered.
“I’m sorry, but he’s gone,” she replied. “He waited quite a while after you and Bud went out. Finally he said he had to leave, but he hoped to hear from you about Ngombia.” She added, “He left his phone number. Should I try to reach him?”
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