o his
voice.

"Not very well," was the answer. "I've tried, in every way I know, to
get on the track of the missing methods perfected by that Frenchman,
but I can't. I'd be a millionaire now, if I had that dye information."

"Do you really think they have them--actually have the formulae?" asked
Tom.

"I certainly do. And the reason I believe so is that I was over at a
chemical supply factory the other day when an order came in for a
quantity of a very rare chemical."

"What has that to do with it?" asked Tom.

"This chemical is an ingredient called for by one of the dye formulae
that were stolen from me. I never heard of its being used for anything
else. I at once became suspicious. I learned that this chemical had
been ordered sent to Field and Melling in their new offices in the
Landmark Building."

"Maybe they intend to use it in making a new kind of fireworks,"
suggested Tom.

Mr. Baxter shook his head.

"That chemical never would work in a skyrocket or Roman candle," he
said. "I'm sure they're trying to cheat me out of my dye formulae. If I
could only prove it!"

"That's the trouble," agreed Tom. "But I'll give you all the help I
can. And, come to think of it, I believe you might interest Mr. Blake.
He has no love for Field and Melling, and he has several keen lawyers
on his staff. I believe it would be a good thing for you to talk to Mr.
Blake."

"Please give me a letter of introduction to him," begged Mr. Baxter.
"What I need is legal talent and capital to fight these scoundrels. Mr.
Blake may supply both."

"He may," agreed Tom. "I'll fix it so you can meet him. But what do you
think of this combination, Mr. Baxter? It is my very latest solution
for putting out fires. I'm loading an airship up with some of the bomb
containers now, and--"

Tom's further remarks were interrupted by the noise of shouting and
tumult in the street, and a moment later yells could be heard of:

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

"Another blaze!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter, raising the shades which had
been drawn, since night had fallen.

"And not far away," said Tom, as he caught the reflection of a red
gleam in the sky.

There was a ring at the front doorbell, and almost at once Ned Newton's
voice called:

"Tom! Tom Swift! There's quite a fire in town! Don't you want to try
your new apparatus on it?"

"The very chance!" exclaimed the young inventor. "Come on, Mr. Baxter.
There's room in the airship for you and Ned. I want you