lieve your son was a professional bank robber, Mr. Swift. We have a
theory that Mr. Damon did the real work, but that Tom helped him with
the tools he had. There is no doubt about it."

"What right have you to accuse my son?" burst out the aged inventor.
"Why have you any more cause to suspect him than any other lad in town?
Why do you fix on him, and Mr. Damon? I demand to know."

"Mr. Damon's eccentric actions for a few days past, and his well-known
oddity of character make him an object of suspicion," declared the
president in judicial tones. "As for Tom, we have, I regret to say,
even better evidence against him."

"But what is it? What? Who gave you any clues to point to my son?"

"Do you really wish to know?"

"I certainly do," was the sharp reply. Mr. Swift, the police and
several bank officials were now in the president's office. The latter
pressed an electric bell, and, when a messenger answered, he said:

"Send young Foger here."

At the mention of this name, Mr. Swift started. He well knew the
red-haired bully was an enemy of his son. Andy entered, walking rather
proudly at the attention he attracted.

"This is Mr. Swift," said the president.

"Aw, I know him," blurted out Andy.

"You will please tell him what you told us," went on Mr. Pendergast.

"Well, I seen Tom Swift hanging around this bank with burglar tools in
his possession last night, just before it was robbed," exclaimed the
squint-eyed lad triumphantly.

"Hanging around the bank last night with burglar tools?" repeated Mr.
Swift, in dazed tones.

"That's right," from Andy.

"How do you know they were burglar tools?"

"Because I saw 'em!" cried Andy. "He had 'em in a valise on his
motor-cycle. He was standing at the corner, waiting for a chance to
break into the bank, and when me and Sam Snedecker saw him, he
pretended to be fixin' his machine. Then the bag of burglar tools fell
off, the satchel came open, and I seen 'em! That's how I know."

"And you're sure they were burglar tools?" asked the chief, for he
depended on Andy to be his most important witness.

"Sure I am. I seen a picture of burglar tools once, and the ones Tom
had was just like 'em. Long-handled wrenches, brace an' bits, an' all.
He tried to hide 'em, but me an' Sam was too quick for him. He wanted
to lick me, too."

"No doubt you deserved it," murmured Mr. Swift. "But how do you know my
son was waiting for a chance to break into the bank?"

"'Cause, wasn't