Tom realized that this was worse than useless.
He listened intently, but could hear nothing. Even the
retreating footsteps of Andy Foger were inaudible.
"This certainly is a pickle!" exclaimed Tom aloud. "I
can't understand how he ever got here. He must have traced
us after we went to Shopton in the airship the last time.
Then he sneaked in here. Probably he saw me enter, but how
could he knew enough to work the worm gear and close the
door? Andy has had some experience with machinery, though,
and one of the vaults in the bank where his father is a
director closed just like this tank. That's very likely how
he learned about it. But I've got to do something else
besides thinking of that sneak, Andy. I've got to get out of
here. Let's see if I can work the gear from inside."
Before he started, almost, Tom knew that it would be
impossible. The tank was made to close from the interior of
the submarine, and the heavy door, built to withstand the
pressure of tons of water, could not be forced except by the
proper means.
"No use trying that," concluded the lad, after a tiring
attempt to force back the sliding door with his hands. "I've
got to call for help."
He shouted until the vibrations in the confined space made
his ears ring, and the mere exertion of raising his voice to
the highest pitch made his heart beat quickly.
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