Chapter III

BOB HAS A VISITOR
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Bob turned off the top lights and returned to his desk, which was one of half a dozen in the long and rather narrow room at one corner of the building.

As he sat down he could hear the beat of the rain against the window and looking out could see, through the curtain of water, the dimmed lights of the sprawling city. On a clear night the view was awe-inspiring, but on this night his only thought was to complete his work and to return to the warmth and comfort of his own room.

Bob delved into the pile of papers which had accumulated in the wire basket on his desk. They must be filed and the proper notations made. There was nothing of especial importance, or he would not have been working alone for it was a rule of the division that when documents of great importance were to be filed, at least two clerks and usually the chief of the division must be on hand. Sometimes even armed guards came in while the filing was taking place for some of the secrets in the great vaults across the corridor were worth millions to unscrupulous men and to other powers.

But until tonight, until his uncle’s words had aroused him, Bob had felt his own work was rather commonplace. There was nothing in his life which compared with the excitement and the almost daily daring of the men in the bureau of investigation of the Department of Justice.

The hours were rather long, the work was routine and his companions, though pleasant, were satisfied with their own careers. They were not looking ahead and dreaming of the day when they might wear one of the little badges which identified a Department of Justice agent.

Then Bob realized that he must stop his day dreaming. Or was it day dreaming after all? His uncle had said that there was now a possibility that he might join the department. But this was no time to ponder about that. He could think of his future when he returned to his room.

Bob went to a filing case which was along the inside wall of the room and extracted a folder. Taking it back to his desk he started making entries of the papers which were on his desk. He worked slowly but thoroughly, and his handwriting was clear and definite.

Others might be faster than Bob in the filing work in the division, but there were none more accurate and when his work was done the chief of the division always knew that the task was well cared for.

Bob worked for more than an hour, stopping only once or twice to straighten up in his chair, for it was tiring work going back to the desk after a full day of the same type of work.

When the file was complete, he returned it to the case along the wall and sorted the papers which remained on his desk. They belonged in four different files and he drew these from the cases and placed them in a row atop his desk.

The air in the room seemed stuffy and Bob walked to one of the windows and opened it several inches—just enough to let in fresh air, yet not far enough for the sharp wind to blow rain into the room. Far below him a car horn shrieked as an unwary pedestrian tried to beat a stop light.

Bob went back to his desk. Another hour and his work would be done. He picked up his pen and resumed the task.

Bob later recalled that he had heard a clock boom out the hour of nine and it must have been nearly half an hour later when the door which led to the corridor opened quietly and a man stepped inside.

The young clerk, at his desk, was so intent upon his work that he did not sense there was a newcomer in the room until the visitor was almost behind him.

Then Bob swung around with a jerk and recognized Tully Ross. There was a momentary flare of anger in Bob’s face.

“Next time you come in, make a little noise,” he snapped. “I thought a ghost was creeping up on me.”

“I’m not much of a ghost,” retorted Tully, taking off his topcoat and shaking it vigorously to get the water off. “I didn’t know you would be working tonight.”

“Couldn’t get through this afternoon,” replied Bob, “and so much material has been coming in lately I was afraid that if I let it go another day I’d be swamped.”

“Next time that happens let me know and I’ll give you a hand,” volunteered Tully as he sat down at his own desk, which was two down from Bob.

Bob nearly laughed aloud for the thought of Tully volunteering to help anyone else was almost fantastic. Each clerk had a special type of filing and each was not supposed to exchange work with the other. In this way there was little chance for the others to know what documents were going through for permanent filing.

“Thanks, Tully, that’s nice of you,” said Bob, “but I don’t know what the chief would say.”

“He’d never need to know,” said Tully swinging around in his chair.

“But if he did find out that we were helping each other, we’d both be out of a job and I can’t afford to take that kind of a risk.”

“Neither can I right now,” conceded Tully, “but I hope to get into something better soon. This doesn’t pay enough for a fellow with my brains and ability.”

“I’ll admit that it doesn’t pay a whole lot,” replied Bob, “but a fellow has to eat these days.”

“Some day I’m going to be over in the Department of Justice,” said Tully definitely. “It may not be tomorrow or next week, but I’m going to get there.”

“I think you will,” agreed Bob. “You’ve got the determination to keep at it until you do.” What he failed to add was that Tully’s uncle would do everything in his power to see that Tully got the promotion and it was no secret that Condon Adams had powerful political connections that might be helpful in getting Tully into the bureau of investigation.