BOB HAS A VISITOR
★
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.