Chapter XI

STRAINED TEMPERS
★

Bob was the first to reach the ledge, which was about two feet above the ground level and well protected from the onslaughts of the storm.

His flashlight revealed the figure of a man, swathed in a dark blanket, jammed up against the window.

Bob was reaching for the blanket when Arthur Jacobs seized his arm.

“Don’t. We’d better wait until we can get your uncle down here.”

“No,” decided Bob, “we’ll find out what this is all about right now.”

With that he pulled the blanket off the figure and stared down into the pain-wracked eyes of the guard who was usually on duty on his floor. A gag, which had been ruthlessly put in place, made speech for the captive out of the question.

“Run for help!” Bob told Arthur Jacobs and the filing chief departed as rapidly as his short legs would carry him.

While he was waiting for help, Bob busied himself in an effort to unfasten the captive’s bonds.

Picture wire had been used to bind the man’s hands and wrists and the gag was of rough, heavy material which was held in place by strips of adhesive tape. It was to this that Bob gave his first attention for from the expression in the guard’s eyes he knew that the gag was causing him untold agony.

With capable but gentle fingers, Bob worked at the gag until the cruel bandage was freed. He bent down close to hear the first whisper from the man’s lips.

“Water, please!”

Bob half propped the captive up and then turned in quest of some water. Anything halfway decent would do. Nearby a small torrent was coming from one of the drain spouts. It had been raining for hours, so the spouting should have been clean.

The filing clerk cupped his hands under the spout and got a double handful of water. This he carried back to the ledge and let it trickle into the other’s mouth.

He was just finishing his task when Arthur Jacobs, followed by half a dozen guards, appeared on the run, the beams from their flashlights cutting a broad swath of light through the darkness.

The guards picked up the captive and carried him inside. Blankets were produced, the wire was cut from his hands and feet. By this time Merritt Hughes, who had been notified, was down on the ground floor. He took charge immediately.

“Get this man to a hospital at once,” he directed. “Two of you go along to see that he talks with no one. Understand, no one. I’ll be around soon and talk with him as soon as they get him into bed and take every precaution to avoid pneumonia.”

Bob felt sorry for the guard. He had been stripped of his uniform, bound and gagged and had been helpless on the ledge for hours. It would be a miracle if he did not suffer an attack of pneumonia.

An ambulance, which had been summoned, arrived, and they saw the guard lifted into the vehicle. Two other guards climbed in beside him.

“Remember, no one is to talk with him until I arrive,” Merritt Hughes ordered.

As they turned to re-enter the building, the federal agent spoke to Bob.

“Tully Ross got here just before the guard was found. Come along upstairs while I question him.”

They were waiting for the elevator when a short, thick-set man hastened in. He was scowling and obviously had been routed out of bed.

Merritt Hughes turned to greet the newcomer and as he recognized him there was no cordiality in the greeting.

“Hello, Adams,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t,” snapped the other, “but don’t think for a minute you can bull-doze my nephew and get away with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know darned well what I mean. Didn’t you just phone Tully Ross and order him down here; didn’t you practically threaten him?”

“I wouldn’t call it exactly a threat, but I did tell him to get down here at once if he knew what was good for him. No clerk is going to be impudent with me.”

Merritt Hughes spoke firmly and calmly, but there was something in the flash of his eyes that told Condon Adams that he had gone far enough.

“If you want to come along while I talk with Tully, you’re quite welcome,” he added.

Condon Adams grunted and shouldered his way ahead of them and into the elevator.

They were silent as they rode up to the top floor and strode down the corridor to the office where Tully Ross was waiting for them.

Tully’s dark, rather handsome face, was marked by frowns as he saw Bob enter behind Merritt Hughes.

“Now what’s been going on here?” demanded Condon Adams as he surveyed the room with cool, calculating eyes. Suddenly he saw the radio file and he swung to face Merritt Hughes.

“This case getting hot?” He shot the question out in short, chopped-off words.

Bob’s uncle nodded.

“Looks like it.”

“Fine one you are not to let me know,” said Adams bitterly.

“I don’t recall that you’ve ever tipped me off to any breaks in any case we’ve worked on before,” said Merritt Hughes coolly. “When you get in that habit I’ll try to learn your telephone number.”

Condon Adams snorted.

“About what I expected. Well, let’s get along here. What happened?”

“You’ll learn all that in good time,” said Bob’s uncle. “Right now I’m in charge and I want to know why Tully came up to the office tonight and why he tried to look through the radio file. Speak up, Tully.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” began Tully. “I was going by and when I saw the lights on in the office I came up. Just curiosity, I guess.”

“Sure it wasn’t anything more?”

“Sure.”

“Then why did you try to look into the radio file?”

Tully shot a bitter glance at Bob for he realized that Bob was the only source of information on his activities while he was in the room.

“That was curiosity, too. You know there’s been talk around about some important papers coming over.”

Arthur Jacobs wrung his hands.

“Talk, talk, talk. Are there no secrets any more in this department?”

“Not many,” retorted Tully, who appeared to take malicious glee in taunting the filing chief.

“That’s enough, Tully. You know there have been serious happenings. Bob was attacked by a marauder who had gone through the files here.”

“What was he doing out of the room; how did anyone get in?” It was Condon Adams’ turn to speak.

Bob replied sharply, explaining what had happened.

“I’d call it mighty poor judgment on your part to leave this room no matter what the circumstances,” said Adams. “I think I’ll lodge a complaint against you.”

“That’s going far enough,” Merritt Hughes said firmly. “You’ll do nothing of the kind. If this thing is going to get as personal as that I’ll file one against your nephew for coming up here and attempting to get into a file that is prohibited to him. Now how would you like that?”

It was obvious that Adams did not relish the suggestion and the whole matter of filing complaints was dropped right there.

Merritt Hughes took charge then, questioning Tully carefully about all of his actions while he was in the room. Tully was surly, but he answered truthfully enough.

“How about it, Bob?” asked the federal agent.

“What’s the matter? Doubt my word?” flared Tully, his dark face flushing.

“Simply checking,” said Bob’s uncle and the tone of his voice invited no further remarks from Tully.

“Tully’s told exactly what happened up until the time he left the room,” said Bob.

“Then suppose you tell us what happened after he left and you were left here alone,” interjected Condon Adams. There was an unpleasant inflection in his voice that Bob resented; an implication that Bob might have been responsible for whatever had taken place that night. Merritt Hughes got it, too, but he ignored it.

Bob told his story in a straight-forward manner. Once or twice Adams interrupted to ask questions, but he gained little satisfaction from his efforts to heckle Bob.

“Well we’ve got two more sources of information,” said Merritt Hughes. “One is the man who was captured in this room and the other is the guard who was found on the ledge down below.”

“Which one are you going to question first?” asked Adams.

“I don’t know. It’s late now. I think I’ll see them in the morning.”

“Not trying to give me the slip, are you?” the words shot out of Adams’ mouth, which was twisted into a bitter sneer.

“I’m simply handling this case in my own way,” replied Merritt Hughes evenly.

“Oh, I don’t know whether it’s your case or not. Remember that both of us have been assigned to this radio angle. Well, you do the work and I’ll get the information out of your reports. It will save me a lot of tedious detail. Come on, Tully.”

Condon Adams, moving as rapidly as his short, thick legs would carry him, left the room and Tully, with a backward glance of mingled relief and unsatisfied curiosity, trailed after him.

Merritt Hughes, watching them depart, shook his head and Bob heard his uncle mutter, “What a precious pair.”

“What are we going to do now?” asked Bob.

“We’re going home and get some sleep. You’ve been through enough for one night. Jacobs, see that he is relieved of routine tomorrow. I want him with me when I question these men.”

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements,” promised the filing chief, who was still looking disconsolately at the mess of papers scattered over the floor. “Use Bob as long as you need him and I’ll fix up the reports here. Good luck and good night.”

“Good night,” replied the federal agent and Bob echoed the words. They strode down the hall together, entered the elevator, and when they reached the entrance of the building were fortunate enough to hail an owl cab which went cruising by.

The air was fresh, but the rain, coming down steadily, was driven by a sharp wind and the night was as raw as ever.