There, he's rousing.
Speak to him, Mary."
Mr. Keith opened his eyes, and smiled at his niece.
"Did I dream it," he asked in a low voice, "or was there some
young man with you, Mary, my dear, to whom I was telling my
troubles about the oil-well papers?"
"You didn't dream it, Uncle," Mary answered. "You were talking
to Tom Swift. Here he is," and Tom came forward.
"Oh, yes, I remember now," said Mr. Keith passing his hand
wearily over his eyes. "I thought, for a moment, that he had
recovered my papers for me. But that was a dream, I'm sure."
"It may not be, Mr. Keith!" exclaimed Tom.
"May not be? What do you mean?"
"I mean," replied the young inventor, "that I am much
interested in what you have told me. Now that I have proved that
the Dixwell Hardley who is to sail with me is the same one who
has treated you so shabbily, I think I understand the truth. I
don't want to make a promise that I may not be able to carry out,
but I am going to watch this man while he's on the submarine with
me."
"Then you are going on with the voyage, Tom?" asked Mary.
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