CHAPTER VI
FIRE
“Sit down,” said Tom, realizing that he had not as yet extended this ordinary courtesy to his visitor. “What can I do for you?” he went on.
“You are the one I want to see—yes?” inquired Ivan Barsky, in laborious English, halting for many of his words.
“Well, I’m Tom Swift,” was the answer.
“I have documents to Tom Swift,” went on the man. “But I had—what you say—expected to see an older personage.”
“Oh, I guess I’m old enough,” replied Tom, with a smile. “But my father is older. However, he has retired from the active business of the concern, so I reckon you’ll have to deal with me.”
“It is of a pleasure to do so, I assure you,” and the man smiled, showing his white teeth amid the blackness of his beard. “Please to read these.”
He extended to Tom a sheaf of letters and documents, which appeared to be epistles of introduction. Some were written in what Tom recognized as Russian and bore imposing stamps. These last, with a smile, the inventor passed back to Mr. Barsky saying:
“These don’t mean anything to me.”
“They vouch for me in my country—Russia,” was the reply. “They are from—what shall I call heem—the Central Committee.”