ON THE LEDGE
★
Arthur Jacobs wheeled around sharply, at the exchange between uncle and
nephew.
“What was Ross doing here at night?” demanded the filing chief.
“I guess he just dropped in; saw the lights burning up here and wondered
what was going on,” replied Bob.
“Did he touch anything, work on anything?” There was a desperate note of
anxiety in the filing chief’s voice and Bob knew that Jacobs was thinking
only of the reputation of his department rather than linking Tully to the
events of the night.
“No, he only offered to help me, but I told him I was getting along all
right,” said Bob.
“Did he ask you about any of the papers you were filing?” pressed the
federal agent.
“Well, not exactly, but he did mention something about the radio secrets.
That’s been more or less common knowledge in the department that
something big was breaking and we have all been curious about it.”
“Did Tully touch this file or go into it?” demanded the filing chief.
Bob hesitated. Tully had looked into the file, but he hadn’t removed
anything Bob was sure.
“Well, did he touch anything?” pressed Jacobs.
“He did open this file,” admitted Bob, “but I looked up just then and I
am sure that he didn’t remove anything. In fact, I don’t think he touched
anything inside the file.”
“Why did he open the file?” asked Merritt Hughes.
“Well, he mentioned something about wanting to see the way I kept my
files. I guess he said he had heard Mr. Jacobs say he liked the way I
handled them.”
Jacobs smiled for it was no secret with him that Bob was his star
assistant, while Tully was probably the poorest of the clerks who worked
in the filing room.
“You’re sure Tully didn’t take anything out?” insisted his uncle.
“I can’t be positive,” said Bob, “but I don’t believe anything was
removed by him.”
Merritt Hughes was silent for a minute. When he spoke again he addressed
his words to Bob.
“Get Tully on the telephone and tell him to dress and get down here right
away.”
From the tone of his voice, Bob knew that it would be useless to say
anything more in defense of the other clerk and he went to the telephone
and dialed Tully’s apartment number. It was two o’clock now and an
unearthly hour to rout anyone out of bed, so Bob prepared himself for a
long wait at the telephone. He was not disappointed for it was at least
three minutes before a sleepy voice answered and Bob recognized it as
that of Tully.
When he explained that the other clerk must come down at once, there were
sleepy protests and Bob’s uncle, provoked at Tully’s attitude, took the
phone.
“Tully, this is Merritt Hughes. There’s been trouble in this office
tonight. You are one of two outsiders who were in here. If you know
what’s good for you, get down here at once and don’t argue.”
With that he hung up the receiver without giving Tully an opportunity to
answer.
“I think he’ll be down without losing any time,” he said, and Bob was
ready to agree.
Tully lived some distance from the office. Bob knew that it would be
nearly half an hour before he could arrive.
“Let me have a flashlight,” he said to his uncle, “and I’ll go down on
the ground floor and see if there is any chance that paper was thrown
from the window.”
Merritt Hughes nodded his agreement and handed a light to Bob.
“I’ll go along,” said Arthur Jacobs. “I can’t stay up here and do
nothing.”
The filing chief was visibly shaken and Bob was glad enough to have
companionship for there would be no fun in prowling through the shrubbery
at the base of the building at that hour of the night.
They walked down the corridor together and turned and faced the elevator
entrance. The cage came up in answer to their summons and they dropped
swiftly toward the first floor.
“Find out yet what happened to the regular guard on our floor?” Bob asked
the elevator operator.
“They’ve checked his home, but he left there right on time. It’s a cinch
he never reached here, though. This building has been searched from top
to bottom and there’s no sign of him.”
When they stepped out on the main floor there was evidence of suppressed
activity for several guards, flashlights in their hands, hurried past
them.
“They’re even searching the closets,” volunteered the elevator operator,
“for the fellow who was caught up on your floor was wearing the guard’s
uniform.”
Bob whistled softly. This was getting more serious every minute. He
wondered about phoning the news upstairs to his uncle. But he decided
against that. They would soon return to the upper floor and he could tell
him then.
The night was as blustery as ever and Bob drew his topcoat close as the
first gust of wind and rain swept down on them. The flashlights threw
feeble glows ahead of them as they floundered through the shrubbery which
flanked the base of the building.
“Ouch!” cried the filing chief as a piece of shrubbery snapped into his
face and Bob turned to help him.
“Go on; I’m all right,” said Jacobs and they pushed ahead, Bob in the
lead.
Back and forth they beat their way through the shrubbery, their lights
held close to the ground. Time after time they stopped to pick up a sheet
of paper in the faint hope that it might be the missing radio document
they were seeking so anxiously.
Now they were directly under the windows of the office. Bob, looking up,
could see the glow of lights from the windows. Here they were doubly
careful to make a thorough search and Arthur Jacobs went over every inch
of the ground with his own light, stooping to be sure that no scrap of
paper went unobserved.
The quest looked hopeless and Bob stood up to ease his aching back.
“Guess we might as well give up,” he said. “Tully will be here in a few
minutes and we’ll want to be back upstairs when he arrives.”
“There’s just a chance the paper might have been blown around the
corner,” said the filing chief, who was determined to cling to even the
most slender hope.
“Well, there’s a chance, but it’s a mighty slim one. We’ll have a try,
though,” agreed Bob.
The rain was even sharper as they turned to the corner of the building
and the lights attempted to pierce the blackness of the hour.
For five minutes they crawled back and forth underneath the shrubbery.
Bob was chilled now and a trickle of water, coming off his hat and
dropping down his neck, did nothing to improve his spirits. His knees and
back ached and it would seem good to get back into the office where it
was light and warm and there would be no rain to face.
“I guess we’ve looked under every shrub on this side of the building,”
finally said Arthur Jacobs and there was a bitter note of disappointment
in his voice. “We might as well give up and go back.”
Bob straightened up and the beam from his flashlight struck one of the
deep, recessed windows that were on the ground floor. The ledge in front
of the window itself was at least two feet wide and it was on this ledge
that the beam of light centered.
Bob cried out involuntarily and Arthur Jacobs, hearing the cry, whirled
to his side.
Something was on that ledge; something that was shrouded in black. Bob’s
heart leaped with an emotion that was one of combined fear and curiosity
and with Jacobs at his side he plunged forward through the shrubbery.