“Andy Foger there—­in the next room,” murmured Tom.  “He’s been there some time.  I wonder how much he heard about the city of gold?”

CHAPTER III

ANDY IS WHITEWASHED

The parlor where Mr. Swift had asked Andy to wait, adjoined the library, and there was a connecting door, over which heavy curtains were draped.  Tom quickly pulled them aside and stepped into the parlor.  The connecting door had been open slightly, and in a flash the young inventor realized that it was perfectly possible for any one in the next room to have heard most of the talk about the city of gold.

A glance across the room showed Andy seated on the far side, apparently engaged in reading a book.

“Did you want to see me?” asked Tom sharply.  His father and the others in the library listened intently.  Tom wondered what in the world Andy could want of him, since the two were never in good tame, and Andy cherished a resentment even since our hero had rescued him from the African jungle.

“No, I didn’t come to see you,” answered Andy quickly, laying aside the book and rising to face Tom.

“Then what—­”

“I came to see your father,” interrupted the red-haired bully.  “I have a letter for him from my father; but I guess Mr. Swift misunderstood me when he let me in.”

“Did you tell him you wanted to see me?” asked Tom suspiciously, thinking Andy had made a mistatement in order to have a longer time to wait.

“No, I didn’t, but I guess your father must have been thinking about something else, for he told me to come in here and sit down.  I’ve been waiting ever since, and just now Mrs. Baggert passed and saw me.  She—­”

“Yes, she said you were here,” spoke Tom significantly.  “Well, then it’s my father you want to see.  I’ll tell him.”

Tom hurried back to the library.

“Dad,” he said, “it’s you that Andy wants to see.  He has a letter from Mr. Foger for you.”

“For me?  What in the world can it be about?  He never wrote to me before.  I must have misunderstood Andy.  But then it’s no wonder for my head is so full of my new gyroscope plans.  There is a certain spring I can’t seem to get right—­”

“Perhaps you’d better see what Andy wants,” suggested Mr. Damon gently.  He looked at Tom.  They were both thinking of the same thing.

“I will,” replied Mr. Swift quickly, and he passed into the library.

“I wonder how much Andy heard?” asked Ned, in a low voice.

“Oh, I don’t believe it could have been very much,” answered Tom.

“No, I stopped you just in time,” rejoined his chum, “or you might have blurted out the name of the city near where the buried gold is.”

“Yes, we must guard our secret well, Tom,” put in Mr. Damon.

“Well, Andy couldn’t have known anything about the letter I got,” declared Tom, “and if he only heard snatched of our talk it won’t do him much good.”