“What radiophoto, son?” Mr. Swift inquired.
Tom explained about the drawing of the Roman soldier and the message in code. “Guess I should have told you before, but I didn’t want to worry you and Mother.”
Tom Sr., trim and athletic, with the same keen features and deep-set blue eyes as Tom Jr., smiled as he sat down. “I understand. But what’s the connection with this ship sinking?”
“Dad, I have a hunch that the picture of that drowning Roman soldier may have stood for the S.S. Centurion! And the people who perpetrated the crime wanted to keep me from being in the vicinity.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Swift frowned thoughtfully. “A
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CHOW WINKLER, DETECTIVE 23
centurion was a Roman military officer-that fits, all right. Which implies that the sender knew beforehand the ship was doomed.”
“Sure, because he or they had planted a bomb aboard,” Tom reasoned. “And the radiophoto could have been a signal that arrangements had been carried out to sink her.”
“JumphY jets!” Bud burst out. “I’ll bet you’re on to something, genius boyl”
Mr. Swift rubbed his jaw as he considered the problem. “Tom, this is a deadly serious business. I think you should pass on your theory to the Central Intelligence Agency.”
“I’ll do it right now.” Tom went to the telephone and placed a long-distance call to John Thurston. The young inventor explained his theory that the drawing of the drowning Roman might have been a tip-off on the Centurion explosion.
“Tom, that’s the best lead we’ve had yet!” Thurston said tensely. “We’ll work on that angle. In the meantime, you and Bud be especially careful.”
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