Chapter VIII

THE PAPER VANISHES
★

Lights from a whole battery of flashlights seemed to blaze down at Bob and he blinked hard as Merritt Hughes leaned over him.

“Bob, Bob, are you hurt?” demanded the ace federal agent.

Bob managed to shake his head. Just then he was too exhausted even to talk.

As he watched the flashlights swept around the room, revealing its wild disorder. Then the lights focused on the form of a man sprawled out under the nearest desk and Bob caught his breath for the man was in a uniform of one of the night watchmen. So that was the reason why there had been no response to his calls for help; the marauder had been the guard!

Merritt Hughes stepped over to the unconscious form and gazed at the man’s face.

“You certainly landed a haymaker on one eye,” he told Bob. “Know who he is?” Bob managed to sit up where he could glimpse the other man.

“He’s the guard who was on duty tonight,” he said, “but I don’t know his name. He is a new man.”

Merritt Hughes chuckled grimly.

“Well, he’s going to a lot different place. Maybe he’ll be able to remember his name and tell us a few things when he wakes up. Now just what happened here?”

“It’s a long story,” began Bob.

“Then save it until we’re alone later. Was anyone else running around up here tonight except yourself and the guard?”

Bob thought instantly of Tully Ross, then decided to wait and tell his uncle about that when they were alone.

“This fellow was the only intruder,” replied Bob, which was true enough, for Tully belonged to the office staff.

“Take him down to the nearest station and have him fingerprinted and photographed,” the federal agent told the policemen.

The officers leaned down and picked up the man Bob had fought and managed somehow to get him to his feet. Supporting him on their shoulders they walked him down the hall and Bob heard the elevator doors click.

Bob’s uncle tried to turn on the lights in the room, but the switches, though they snapped as usual, failed to send any current into the lights.

“Fuses blown,” Bob heard him mutter.

They were alone now, the police having departed with their prisoner.

“Here’s an extra flashlight, Bob. See if you can find anything missing by making a hurried search around the room,” directed Merritt Hughes.

Bob felt stronger now and he got to his feet. He was still a little unsteady, but the cool, rain washed air, coming in sharp gusts through the window now, cleared his head and he took the flashlight which his uncle offered.

The twin beams of light swept around the room.

“What a mess!” exclaimed the federal agent, as the lights revealed the utter confusion.

“Who’s in charge?” he asked.

“Arthur Jacobs is the filing chief for this room,” replied Bob.

“Then you’d better get him on the telephone and see that he gets down here at once. Explain what’s happened and tell him that you want to check over the files for any possible missing papers.”

Bob looked up the number of the filing chief’s home telephone and dialed. It was some time before a sleepy voice answered and when Bob informed the filing chief who was speaking the voice was sharp and angry.

But when he imparted the news and added that a federal agent was waiting for his arrival and the checkup, the filing chief promised to come down at once.

In the meantime a janitor came up from somewhere below and fixed the fuses so that there was ample light in the long room.

“I can start in checking up on the files now,” said Bob, but his uncle held out his hand.

“I don’t want a thing touched until the filing chief is here,” he explained. “Then, if something important is missing, you’ll have a clean bill of health.”

“But I’m sure that nothing important has come through lately,” said Bob. “Of course we don’t know definitely when important records are being filed, but we usually have a pretty good hunch.”

“Then here’s hoping that your hunch has been right,” replied his uncle.

Bob told him about the condition of the other room down the hall and they went there and examined it at some length, finally deciding to lock and seal the door until morning when a more thorough inspection could be made.

By the time they were back in the room where Bob worked, the elevator doors clanged open and they could hear impatient footsteps hurrying toward them.

Arthur Jacobs, short, heavy and round-faced, fairly popped through the door. His blue eyes went wide as he saw the litter of papers in the room and Bob felt sorry for the filing chief for Jacobs had a splendid record of efficiency.

“What under the sun happened?” demanded Jacobs. “I’m afraid I was so sleepy I was sharp with you over the phone,” he told Bob.

“I guess I would have been a little provoked at being routed out at this time of night,” admitted Bob. “I guess my uncle can tell you better than I can.”

Arthur Jacobs, after glancing again at the wild confusion of papers on the floor, faced the federal agent.

Merritt Hughes described the events of the night briefly and Bob saw the filing chief casting anxious glances toward one of the steel cabinets. His own heart missed a beat or two for the cabinet that appeared to be worrying the filing chief was the one in which the newest radio documents were kept. It was here that any papers relating to new discoveries in this field would be placed.

But Bob managed to reassure himself. He was convinced that only the man he had caught could have been in the room and there had been no way for him to get rid of any papers which he might have stolen from the file.

Then Arthur Jacobs interrupted the federal agent.

“Just a minute. Some important papers came through late this afternoon and I placed them in one of the files myself. I want to be sure that they’re here.”

The filing chief stepped to the radio filing cabinet and skimmed through the papers with expert fingers.

Bob saw the frown of anxiety deepen on the filing chief’s face as his fingers sorted the documents expertly. Jacobs shook his head and then bent down and scanned each document on the floor in front of the case.

“Anything important missing?” asked Merritt Hughes.

Jacobs didn’t answer at once, and when he finally looked up, Bob read the answer in his face.

“Yes,” said the filing chief in a voice so low that it carried only a few feet, “the papers which came over this afternoon have vanished.”