"I am Tom Swift," put in the young inventor quickly. "And this is one of my inventions. I might add," he said slowly, looking first Melling and then Field full in the face, "that I was aided in perfecting the chemical extinguisher by Josephus Baxter."
The effect on the two men, whom Tom believed were scoundrels, was marked.
"Baxter!" cried Field.
"Is he associated with you?" demanded Melling.
"Not officially," Tom answered, delighted at the chance to "rub it in," as he expressed it later. "I have been helping him, and he has been helping me since he lost his dye formulae in—in your fire!"
"Does he say he lost them in the fire of our factory?" demanded Field aggressively.
"He believes he did," asserted Tom. "I helped carry him out of the laboratory of your place when he was almost dead from suffocation. He remembers that he had the formulae then, but since has been unable to find them."
"He'd better be careful how he accuses us!" blustered Field, in his big voice.
"We could have the law on him for that!" squeaked the bigger Melling.
"He hasn't accused you," said Tom easily. "He only says the formulae disappeared during the fire in your place, and he is just wondering, that is all—just wondering!"