IN THE DARKENED ROOM
★
Bob paused on the threshold of the long office, staring into the
blackness of the room. After his recent experiences he couldn’t be blamed
for hesitating a moment.
Should he close the door, back into the hall and await his uncle’s
arrival or should he snap on the lights and see what had taken place in
the room? It seemed to Bob that he pondered those questions for several
minutes; actually it was less than five seconds.
He reached for the light switch at the left of the doorway and pushed the
button. But there was no answering blaze of light; only the dead click of
the switch.
Bob knew then that the lights had been tampered with, that more than
likely someone was lurking in the shadowy darkness of the office. His
better judgment told him to wait until he could summon assistance, but
some other urge drove him on. He couldn’t explain it later; he simply
went ahead.
The young filing clerk stepped across the threshold, the flashlight in
his hand aimed down the center of the room. Then he turned on the flash
and a beam of light cut through the darkness.
Bob gasped. The light showed papers strewn over the floor and the drawers
from desks and filing cases pulled indiscriminately out and dumped on the
floor.
The shock of the confusion in the office brought him up short. Then he
started to swing the light about the room to determine the full extent of
the damage by the marauder.
A slight noise to the right caught Bob’s attention and he turned in that
direction. Instinctively he knew that danger lurked there, and he tensed
his body. It came before he was ready; something hurtling out of the
dark; something that struck his right hand a numbing blow; something that
sent the flashlight crashing to the floor where the lens and the bulb
shattered and the light went out.
But the blow sent Bob into action. He must get back to the door and get
it closed; that would cut off the one avenue of escape for the intruder.
The clerk leaped backward, his hands reaching out for the doorway. He
collided with someone else; someone wearing a topcoat still damp from the
rain outside.
Bob thought quickly. He must find some way to stop the other if for only
an instant. He drew back his right foot and swift kick connected with the
unknown’s shins with such force that an involuntary cry rang through the
room. Bob leaped on and crashed into the half opened door. With anxious
fingers he found the key on the inside, slammed the door shut and turned
the lock.
That done Bob dropped down on the floor where he would have a chance to
rest, to collect his wits, and to plan his future course of action.
For a time there was no sound in the room. He could not even catch the
breathing of the other man and he thought of the possibility that the
other had slipped out the door before he had closed it. Then he dismissed
that as an impossibility for there had not been sufficient time for that.
Bob knew every inch of the long office; knew where every desk and chair
was located and every window. As his eyes became more accustomed to the
dark he could pick out the lighter blots which were the windows.
Then a slight noise caught his attention. The unknown was moving,
probably on his hands and knees, feeling his way toward the door. Bob
couldn’t resist a chuckle as he thought of the dismay that would spread
through the other when he found the door securely locked and the key
missing.
Just to be on the safe side, Bob edged away from the door and sought
shelter behind a nearby desk. To make sure that he would move noiselessly
he slipped off his shoes and placed them beside a filing cabinet where he
wouldn’t fall over them if it was necessary for him to make a sudden
move.
Strangely enough Bob felt very calm. His heart beat rapidly and his
breath came shorter and faster, but his mind was remarkably clear, his
hands steady. He was glad now that he did not have the flashlight, for
using it would only have made him a target for the marauder.
Bob wondered how long it would take his uncle to reach the scene.
Probably another ten minutes, for Merritt Hughes lived a considerable
distance from the building. What might happen inside that room in the
next ten minutes was something that Bob didn’t care to guess about.
As Bob listened he could hear the almost noiseless movements of the other
man and knew that he was nearing the door. Then he heard hands moving
along the woodwork—finally the gentle turning of the doorknob. Then there
was the sharp rattle of the knob as though a sudden wave of anger had
swept over the man at the realization that he had been trapped in the
room.
Bob moved away from the door, crawling on his hands and knees, and he
kept going until he was well down the room and right at the steel cabinet
where the radio documents were filed. With cautious hands he felt along
the front of the case. So far the drawers had not been pulled out for
they were identified only by key numbers instead of by the name of the
type of papers which they contained.
This was one cabinet Bob was determined to protect, for, after what his
uncle had told him earlier in the night, he felt sure that this was the
object of the unknown’s visit.
Once more the doorknob was rattled sharply; then silence again shrouded
the room and Bob felt his nerves tightening. It was tough waiting alone
in the darkness. He wondered if the other man possessed a gun and if he
would have the nerve to use it if an emergency caught him.
Bob strained his ears for some sound of the other’s maneuvers. A faint
sort of “plop” made him smile. It sounded very much like a shoe being
placed gently on the floor. Several seconds later there was a similar
sound and Bob knew that they were now on even terms; neither one of them
having his shoes on. This man was no fool; he was determined to keep his
own movements as secret as possible.
Then Bob heard a sound which was anything but heartening. The unknown was
coming toward him. He could hear the gentle scrape of knees as the man
crawled along the floor. He was evidently feeling his way along the
filing cabinets and Bob moved out toward the center of the room where he
found protection between two desks, set fairly close together.
His action was not a minute too soon, for he had barely settled himself
in his new position when he saw a darker shadow moving along in front of
the filing cases. The man was less than six feet away, and breathing very
quietly, but steadily.
Bob held his own breath as the man passed along the row of filing cases.
Evidently he was going to make the rounds of the room in an effort to
catch Bob by surprise, overpower him, and take away the key. Bob chuckled
inwardly at that thought. He was too familiar with the room to be caught
in that manner.
Moving out slightly from behind the shelter of the desks, he saw the man
reach a window and raise his head so that he could look down on the
street. It was a temptation that Bob couldn’t resist and he picked up an
inkwell on the desk beside him, took careful aim, and hurled the heavy
glass container.
Just as he threw the inkwell, Bob slipped and the noise attracted the
attention of the other man. He leaped to his feet and whirled about. The
glass container, instead of striking the man’s head, hit his shoulder,
glanced into the window and crashed its way on out into the darkness.
There was a cry of pain from the intruder and then a sharp burst of flame
as a bullet scarred the top of the desk which shielded Bob.
Bob went cold all over. There was no more fun in this thing. It was
deadly serious now and he knew that his very life might depend on the
events of the coming minutes for this man was cornered and capable of
shooting his way out if necessary.