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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Why, Tom," she went on hurriedly as she saw how excited he was, "whatever has happened?" "Man hurt out in front motor-cycle smash I'm going to bring him in here get some things ready I'll find dad!" "Bless and save us!" cried Mrs. Baggert. "Whatever are we coming to? Who's hurt? How did it happen? Is he dead?" "Haven't time to talk now!" answered Tom, rushing from the house.
Josephus Baxter glared about with wild eyes, but between them Tom and Mrs. Baggert managed to get him to drink the mixture. "Bah! It's as bad as some of my chemicals!" spluttered the chemist, as he handed back the glass. "You are sure you'll have my formulae in the morning?" he asked, as he turned to go back to his room. "I'll do my best," declared Tom cheerfully. "Now please lie down."
But Mr. Nestor had not done this, and Mrs. Baggert, who answered the telephone, said Mary had been calling frantically for Tom, as her mother was now on the verge of complete collapse. "No help for it," said Tom, ruefully. "We've got to tell 'em we have no news, and can't find him." And, hearing this, Mrs. Nestor did collapse, and a doctor was called in. Thereupon Tom, who with Mr.
"But you haven't any pliers!" the lad went. "How can you cut wire without them? There's a pair in the shop, but " "Heah dey be! Heah dey be!" cried Eradicate, as he produced a heavy pair from his pocket. "I I couldn't find de can-opener fo' Mrs. Baggert, an' I jest got yo' pliers, Massa Tom. Oh, how glad I is dat I did. Here's de pincers, Massa Peterson."
Baggert, the housekeeper, I think perhaps I have said enough about him; and now I will get back to the story. I might add, however, that Andy Foger, who had been away from Shopton for some time, had now returned to the village, and had lately been seen by Tom, riding around in a powerful auto. The sight of Andy did not make the young inventor feel any happier.
"He said you had some news for him about the men who had tried to get hold of some of his tank secrets, and he was quite worked up over the chance of catching the rascals." "Whew!" whistled Ned. "This is getting more complicated every minute. There's something deep here, Mr. Damon." "I agree with you, Ned. And the sooner we find Tom Swift the better. What next, Mrs. Baggert?"
"I'll have to wait until I get home," he went on, and he hastened his steps, for he was anxious to see what he had torn loose from the person who appeared to be spying on him. "Why Tom, what's the matter?" exclaimed Mrs. Baggert, when he entered the kitchen, dripping water at every step. "Is it raining outside? I didn't hear any storm." "It was raining where I was," replied Tom angrily.
No wonder he kept quiet. I'll wager all the while he was as close to the open door as he could get, hoping to overhear about the location of the place, so he could help his father get back his lost fortune. Bless my hatband! It's a good thing Mrs. Baggert told us he was there."
Damon exclaimed: "Bless my burglar alarm! What's that?" "Someone at the door, Tom," replied Mr. Swift calmly. "That's nothing unusual. It's early yet." But, in spite of his reassuring words, there was a feeling of vague alarm. "I'll see who it is," volunteered Ned. "If it's Andy Foger " Mrs. Baggert entered the room at that moment.
He noticed that the burglar was crouching low down on the floor, but Tom thought nothing of this at the time. He imagined that Happy Harry or whatever his name was might be afraid of getting hit. There was a flash of fire and a deafening report as Tom fired. The cloud of smoke obscured his vision for a moment, and as the echoes died away Tom could hear Mrs. Baggert screaming in her room.
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