Chapter XVIII

PICKING UP CLUES
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When he awoke the Limited was pulling into the train shed at Jacksonville and his uncle, Merritt Hughes, was waiting for him on the platform.

The older federal agent jumped aboard the Limited before it came to a full stop and hastened down the aisle to the berth where Bob, still the only occupant of the car, was partially dressed.

“How are you, Bob?” There was real anxiety in the question as Merritt Hughes looked down on his capable young nephew.

“I’m a little stiff, but otherwise all right,” grinned Bob. “My bag is under the berth. See if you can find a clean shirt for me.”

“Never mind the shirt now. I want to know what happened last night. We got only the briefest word from Washington over the wires and Condon Adams left before dawn for the hospital up the line where they took Tully.”

“Is he all right?” asked Bob.

“I understand he’ll have to stay in bed for a couple of days.”

“What about the man we knew as Joe Hamsa?”

Merritt Hughes shook his head.

“There are no reports on him. There’s a large searching party out looking along the banks of the stream where he disappeared, but it looks like we’ve seen the last of him.”

Bob wished that he could have had the confidence his uncle displayed in believing that Joe Hamsa was gone forever.

At his uncle’s urging, Bob recounted in detail everything that had taken place after the Limited left Washington.

“So Hamsa hid out on top of the observation car?” mused the federal agent. “Well, that’s a new one for me. No wonder you failed to find him even though you went through the train several times.”

Bob motioned toward his bag beneath the berth, “Now how about my shirt? Then some breakfast, and I’ll be ready to go along on my assignment.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind. You’re going to spend the rest of the day in bed in my room at the hotel. Tomorrow we’ll talk about your going on to Atalissa. I’m not sure that I want you to go there alone. It’s a tough little town. People know too much there, but they won’t talk. Either scared or in league with some illegal racket.”

“And you figure the racket is the jewel smuggling?”

Merritt Hughes nodded gravely.

“This thing is big, Bob,” he went on. “As you know from the confidential report you got, we feel sure that only a few men are actually involved in the ring, but they must be men of great daring and resourcefulness, for they have managed to elude some of the best detectives.”

“Then it seems kind of foolish for me to tackle it,” said Bob, half to himself and half to his uncle.

“Not at all. A new, younger man may have some ideas that older men in the service would not have. You’ve had one break in getting Hamsa out of the way and we’re sure that he was linked with the gang.”

“I guess there’s no question about that for he stole the confidential reports Tully and I had.”

“Then what does that mean to you?” asked Bob’s uncle.

The younger agent, struggling to button a shirt collar that was too tight, stopped and sat down on the edge of the berth.

“In the first place it means that he wanted to find out just what the federal people knew about the operations of the gang. Then it appears pretty obvious that he didn’t want any more federal men nosing around Atalissa and Nira.”

“Right in both cases,” agreed Merritt Hughes. “Now what?”

“Well, it follows that there must be some good reason for this interest in federal operations, and all I can figure out is that the gang is getting ready to smuggle in a large amount of gems.”

“Go to the head of the class; you’ve had a perfect score. The question now follows, what shall we do?”

“Are you going to try to demote me now?” grinned Bob.

“No, I’m just trying to find out how far along the way you’ll get by sound deduction and logic.”

“Then I’d say that we ought to go through with our original plans and that Tully and I proceed on to our assignments at once with additional agents held ready to back us up if we get in a jam or things break wide open and we need help.”

“You’re not worrying about Hamsa having escaped from the river and getting word to the others in the gang?”

“Of course I’m thinking about that angle, but that’s a chance we’ll have to take,” replied Bob.

“We’ll make the decision tomorrow. There may be some further advices from Washington by that time.”

Bob finished dressing and his uncle picked up his bag and together they walked out into the train shed.

“Breakfast is going to taste good to me,” said Bob. “Don’t waste any time in getting there.”

“Then we’ll eat at the restaurant in the station,” decided his uncle.

Breakfast was served quickly after they placed their orders and Bob ate the meal with real relish. Corn cakes with a thick coating of maple syrup especially pleased him and he had a second order.

After the meal was finished, they walked through the main waiting room of the station and to the taxi stand just beyond where Merritt Hughes signalled for a vehicle, and they were soon speeding toward the hotel.

Bob, still stiff and sore from his encounter the night before with Joe Hamsa, leaned back against the cushions and enjoyed the trip, for this was his first visit to Florida. The streets were broad, the homes hospitable and life seemed to move at a more leisurely pace than it did in the northern cities with which he was familiar.

The hotel, a modest sized structure, was done in Spanish architecture and his uncle had two rooms on the fourth floor looking down on an inner court where there was a spacious swimming pool flanked by stubby palm trees.

“Now for a shower bath and I’ll feel like I really wanted to live again,” said Bob.

“I’ve got several reports to make out and mail to the bureau in Washington,” said his uncle, “and I’ll get them out of the way while you’re taking your shower.”

Bob undressed and adjusted the spray in the shower to his liking. For ten minutes he relaxed under the soothing flow of the water and when he finally emerged his muscles were not as sore and tight and his head felt clearer. As he rubbed his body briskly with a heavy towel, one thought troubled him. What had caused the sudden illness which had befallen Tully and later had nearly struck him down on the train? While he dressed, Bob told his uncle about these incidents.

“You say you felt something like a sharp blow on the face before you became ill?” asked the older federal agent.

“That’s right.”

“Then you were gassed.”