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Updated: May 20, 2025
That would be a terrible crime!" "Field and Melling are capable of just such crimes as that!" said Josephus Baxter, bitterly. "If they took my formulae they wouldn't stop at arson." "Were your formulae for the manufacture of fireworks?" asked Tom. "Not altogether," was the reply. "I had several formulae for valuable chemical combinations.
This letter is addressed to me in care of Field and Melling at the office I used to have in their fireworks factory." "The office from which you were rescued nearly dead," Tom added. "Exactly. The place where you saved me from a terrible death. Well, if you will notice, this letter was written only two days ago.
"We'll hope for the best." "Yes," agreed Tom, "that's all we can do hope for the best. By the way," he went on, turning to Mr. Baxter, "are you any nearer fastening the guilt on those two rascals, Field and Melling?" "Bless my prosecuting attorney, no!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Those are the slickest scoundrels I ever tackled! They're like a flea.
"This is all your fault, Melling!" cried the smaller of the two men, whose voice, in loudness and depth of pitch, was out of all proportion to his size. "All your fault! I told you we should have those new fire escapes!" "And you were the one, Field, who objected to the cost of fire escapes when you found what the charge would be," retorted the other.
"Look, Tom Swift, this letter is addressed to me from one of the biggest dye firms in the world a firm that is always looking for something new!" "But if you haven't anything new to give them, of what use is it?" Tom asked, for he knew that the chemist had said his process, stolen, as he claimed, by Field and Melling, was his only new project.
"Don't go," urged Tom, but she said to him that she would see him before he left, and then she went out, leaving her uncle and the young inventor busily engaged in talking. But though Mr. Blake had certain suspicions regarding Field and Melling, and though Tom Swift, too, believed they had something to do with the disappearance of Baxter's secret formulae, it was another matter to prove anything.
"Can I do anything for you?" asked Tom, as he was about to go out and close the door. "No thank you," was the halting reply. "I guess nothing can be done. Field and Melling have me where they want me now down and out." "Do you mean Amos Field and Jason Melling of the fireworks firm?" asked Tom, for the names were familiar to him in a business way. "Yes, the the scoundrels!" exclaimed Mr.
And this, also, was the desperate situation that confronted Mary Nestor and her uncle, Barton Keith, as well as Amos Field and Jason Melling. Those unscrupulous and cowardly men were in a veritable panic of fear, which contrasted strangely with the calm, resigned attitude of Mary and her uncle. "We must get out! Some one must save us!" yelled Field. "Jump from the window!" cried Melling.
While preparations were being made to test the Scud after the carburetor had been reassembled, Tom's mind was busy with many thoughts, and chief among them were suspicions concerning Field and Melling. "If their talk meant anything at all," reasoned the young inventor, "it meant that there was some deal in which Josephus Baxter got the worst of it.
"There, I reckon she'll work," said the mechanician, as he fastened the last valve in the carburetor. "It was an easier job than I expected. Wasn't as much trouble as I had over their car those two fellers you were speaking of Field and Melling. They're rich guys!" "Yes?" replied Tom, questioningly. "Sure! They've started a big dye company."
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