"I hope it contains no flaws," spoke Tom. "That is the worst of big guns—you never can tell when a flaw will develop. But I hope"
Tom was interrupted by the sound of a dispute at one of the outer doors of the shop.
"But I tell you I must go in—I belong here in!" a voice cried. It had a German accent, and at the sound of it Tom and Ned looked at each other.
"Who is there?" asked the manager sharply of the foreman.
"Oh, a crazy German. He belongs in one of the other shops, and I guess he's mixed up. He thinks he belongs here. I sent him about his business."
"That is right," remarked the manager. "I gave orders, at your request," he said to Tom, "that no one but the men in this part of the plant were to be present at the casting. I can't understand what that fellow wanted."
"I think I can," murmured Tom, to himself.
