"No-no-nothing," the fellow half stammered. "I just came here to get out of the rain. I saw this machine on the road, with nobody in it, so I crawled in. I didn't take anything——"
"What about these?" and Tom reached one hand into another pocket and took out the silver articles. "I suppose these grew here?"
"Oh, those! Well, I didn't think——"
"And I suppose you and the other man, who's gone to tell the boss, just thought my car was parked back there for you to run off with. Is that it?" went on Tom.
"Oh, so you——"
"Yes, I'm the owner and I know all about you and I've got you dead to rights!" snapped the young inventor. Part of his statement was true, at all events. Though he was far from knowing all about the man. Yet he decided to bluff some more.
"I know you!" proceeded Tom. "Hanson's your name——"
"You got me wrong there, chief," said the man, with an uneasy smile. "Gorro is my name."
"Gorro, then. I was coming to that!" snapped Tom, carrying out his bluff. "But even if you aren't Hanson you're in with him and——"
"No, chief, honest, I don't know Hanson."