Agent Nine
and the
Jewel Mystery
_By_
Graham M. Dean
Author of
_Agent Nine’s First Case_
★
_A Story of Thrilling Exploits
of the “G” Men_
The
Goldsmith Publishing Company
CHICAGO
_Copyright 1935, by
The Goldsmith Publishing Company_
_Manufactured in the United States of America_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. AN EMBARRASSING SITUATION 15
II. A NEW CASE 25
III. “GOOD LUCK” 35
IV. TULLY’S CHALLENGE 41
V. ON THE SOUTHERN LIMITED 45
VI. STRANGE EVENTS 54
VII. THE MAN ON THE PLATFORM 64
VIII. TULLY’S PAPERS VANISH 73
IX. BOB GETS A WARNING 84
X. IN CAR 43 93
XI. DOUBLE DANGER 99
XII. A NEW MYSTERY 110
XIII. GOING ON 117
XIV. THE LIGHTS GO OUT 125
XV. IN THE AISLE 132
XVI. FIGHTING FOR LIFE 139
XVII. INTO ANGRY WATERS 144
XVIII. PICKING UP CLUES 149
XIX. THE WARNING 156
XX. MEAGER HOPES 162
XXI. SPECIAL AGENT NINE 167
XXII. A HARD ASSIGNMENT 174
XXIII. SNAP AIM SCORES 186
XXIV. AT THE HOSPITAL 190
XXV. BOB GETS READY 195
XXVI. “DON’T MOVE!” 199
XXVII. SHERIFF MCCURDY TALKS 207
XXVIII. THEORIES 211
XXIX. MORE CLUES 216
XXX. READY FOR ACTION 222
XXXI. A BOAT FLASHES PAST 227
XXXII. LOST ISLAND AHEAD 232
XXXIII. OUT OF THE NIGHT 236
XXXIV. IN THE SHANTY 240
XXXV. REVERSING THE TABLES 245
XXXVI. UNTANGLING THE WEB 248
AGENT NINE AND THE
JEWEL MYSTERY
★
Chapter I
AN EMBARRASSING SITUATION
★
Bob Houston, the youngest agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation,
stepped out of the Department of Justice Building and turned toward home,
his heart beating faster than it had in months. It hardly seemed real but
he was now a full-fledged agent in the greatest man hunting division in
the Federal Government.
Bob paused a moment at the curb. Another man who had emerged from the
justice building joined him. It was his uncle, Merritt Hughes, one of the
most famous detectives in the department. He put his arm around Bob’s
shoulders and shook him in a rough but friendly embrace.
“Well, Bob, how does it feel to be a real federal agent?” he asked.
It was a moment before Bob replied, and when he finally spoke the words
came slowly.
“I hardly know,” he confessed, “as yet it doesn’t seem real, but there is
one thing I do know—I’m going to work night and day to make a success of
this new job.”
“Don’t worry about making a success,” advised his uncle. “You’ve got the
stuff to make good or you wouldn’t have been taken into the department.”
“When do you think I’ll get my first assignment on a new case?” asked
Bob.
“That’s hard to say,” replied the famous detective, “but if I were you
I’d go home now and get a good night’s sleep. In this kind of a game
you’d better sleep when you can.”
“Then I’m headed for home now,” said Bob. “Good night, and thanks for all
you’ve done for me.”
With that the young federal agent strode off down the avenue, his lungs
drinking in great gulps of the cool air of the fall night.
Merritt Hughes stood on the curb of the justice building watching his
nephew until Bob turned the corner a block away. Anyone noticing the
federal agent would have seen a slight smile of pleasure on his lips and
he might have guessed that Merritt Hughes was greatly pleased by the
events which had happened in the preceding hours.
As a matter of fact, Bob Houston, a plain clerk in the archives division
of the War Department, temporarily a provisional federal agent, had been
the key figure in preventing the theft of some of Uncle Sam’s most
valuable radio secrets.
Through Bob’s efforts a daring plot had been thwarted and the men
responsible taken into custody. As a reward for this brilliant work, Bob
had been made a full-fledged agent of the famous bureau of investigation
of the Department of Justice.
There were many thoughts in Bob’s mind as he strode toward home that
night. Only that afternoon he had led the raid on the east shore of
Maryland which had resulted in the apprehension of the gang which had
been attempting to steal the radio secrets. Then, after the return to
Washington, had come eventful hours.
Bob would never forget the scene in the office of Waldo Edgar, chief of
the bureau of investigation, when Mr. Edgar had informed Bob that he was
a regular federal agent and had presented his credentials to him.
Just to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming, Bob pulled a small leather
wallet from an inside coat pocket and paused under a street light to look
at its contents. There was no mistake. There in the wallet was a small
gold badge which denoted his office and the finely engraved card which
marked his identification. Bob replaced the wallet with a particular glow
of satisfaction and continued toward home.
The night air was raw and Bob increased his pace as he neared the
building where he made his home. He turned in at the entrance and made
his way up to the third floor where he had a comfortable room in a rear
apartment.
Bob unlocked the door and snapped on the light. It was a typical man’s
room with a large chiffonier and a deep clothes closet in one wall. There
was a reading light near the head of the bed and beside this a large easy
chair with a book rack. A number of books and magazines were scattered on
this rack, and usually Bob sat down to read for a time before going to
bed; but tonight he was too tired to read and he undressed rapidly.
Tired though he was, sleep was slow in coming to him as his mind went
over the events of recent hours. Bob wondered just what Tully Ross was
thinking and doing, for Tully had been his rival in seeking a solution to
the mystery of the radio secrets.
Tully, also a clerk in the archives division of the War Department, had
an uncle, Condon Adams, who, like Merritt Hughes, was a federal agent.
Both Tully and his uncle had worked on the radio case, but by dint of
Bob’s good fortune and sharp detective work Bob and his uncle had solved
the case before Tully and _his_ uncle could find the solution. In spite
of this, Tully had been made an agent in the bureau of investigation and
there was every indication that the rivalry which had started when they
were clerks in the War Department would continue in their new work.
Bob was just dropping asleep when the telephone beside his bed rang
sharply. He turned on the light and picked up the instrument, all thought
of sleep now gone from his mind. Could it be his first assignment?
“Hello? Hello?” said Bob anxiously.
But there was no reply over the wire and Bob clicked the receiver hook
several times, finally deciding that the call must have been the wrong
number.
When Bob finally did get to sleep he slept with the heaviness of complete
nervous and physical exhaustion. It was mid-forenoon and the sun was
streaming in his windows when he finally awakened. There had been no
instructions to him on when to report for his new work and he took a
shower and dressed leisurely.
Bob stepped out of the apartment building and took a deep breath of the
crisp air of the mid-fall morning. Then he walked down the street to a
small shop where he usually had his breakfast.
After ordering his breakfast he picked up a morning paper on his table
and his eyes instantly focused on the headlines in the center of the
front page:
“FEDERAL AGENTS CAPTURE GANG OF RADIO THIEVES”
Bob read the story with avid attention. Here in detail was related on the
front page of one of the nation’s great newspapers the complete story of
the part he had played in rounding up the gang of radio thieves. Bob
looked up from the paper. His face felt flushed and he knew he appeared
highly self-conscious, but no one seemed to be noticing him and he
resumed his reading of the story.
It was evident that the reporter who had written the story must have
obtained his information from a federal agent, but Bob knew that there
was a rule in the department that all information of this type must come
from the head of the department. He was quite sure that Waldo Edgar had
not given out the story. As Bob read further the conviction grew that
Tully Ross must have supplied the facts for the newspaper story, for a
great deal of credit had been given to Tully for things which he had not
done.
Bob dropped the paper in disgust. That was just like Tully to attempt to
claim credit for something which someone else had done.
Bob finished his breakfast, paid his bill and started walking toward the
Department of Justice Building. He had gone a little more than a block
when a car pulled along the curb and the driver stuck his head out the
window.
“Want a lift, Bob?” asked a pleasant voice and Bob turned to face
Lieutenant Gibbons, War Department intelligence officer, who had helped
him in the solution of the radio mystery.
Bob climbed into the coupé and Lieutenant Gibbons sent the car shooting
down the avenue, dodging in and out of the heavy mid-forenoon stream of
traffic.
“Quite a story in the morning papers,” smiled the lieutenant.
Bob nodded.
“Looks like Tully Ross has been doing a little personal press agenting,”
he said. “Personally, I’m not very strong for that sort of thing.”
“Neither am I,” said the lieutenant, “but some people seem to live on a
diet of publicity and I guess Tully is one of that kind.”
The lieutenant wheeled his coupé up in front of the Department of Justice
Building and Bob stepped out.
“Thanks a lot for the lift,” he said.
“Oh, that’s all right, Bob. I wonder when we’ll be working on a case
again?”
“That’s hard to say,” grinned Bob. “Hope it will be soon.”
With that he turned and entered the building while Lieutenant Gibbons
resumed his journey.
Bob took an elevator to the top floor where the head of the bureau of
investigation had his offices. A clerk in the anteroom took his name and
looked up sharply as he consulted an appointment chart on his desk.
“I think Mr. Edgar is expecting you,” he said, “for your name is on his
call list this morning.”
Bob looked eagerly at the clerk.
“Does this mean I’m going to be assigned to a case?” he asked.
“I can’t say,” replied the clerk, “but I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ll
send in your name at once. Just have a seat and wait for a few minutes.”
Bob was the only one in the anteroom and he sat down on a padded bench
beside the clerk’s desk, with a growing feeling that within a few minutes
he would be called in and assigned on his first case as a full time
federal agent.