"Why, I can not tell. He is an Englishman. They do strange things."
"My telegram? Is it here?" asked Tom impatiently. He wanted to get whatever word there was from Mr. Period, and be on his way to whatever destination the picture man might select. Perhaps, after all, his suspicions, against the man who had so suddenly left, were unfounded.
"Yes, there is a cablegram here for you, Monsieur Swift," said the man, who was French. "There are charges on it, however."
"Pay 'em, Ned, while I see what this is," directed the young inventor, as he tore open the envelope.
"Whew!" he whistled a moment later. "This is going some."
"Where to now?" asked Ned. "The North Pole?"
"No, just the opposite. Mr. Period wants me to go to Africa—the Congo Free State. There's an uprising among the natives there, and he wants some war pictures. Well, I guess I'll have to go."
As Tom spoke he looked toward the door of the telegraph office, and he saw the man, who had so hurriedly gone out a few moments before, looking in at him.
