ON THE SOUTHERN LIMITED
★
The taxi pulled up in front of the union station and Bob and Tully,
spurning the offers of red caps, carried their luggage into the huge
structure.
The great terminal was alive with activity and through the loud speaker
system the departures of half a dozen famous trains were being announced.
Bob’s Gladstone was too heavy to carry very far without shifting it from
hand to hand. When he reached the train shed he put the bag down beside
him and opened the envelope in which his tickets had been placed. His
Pullman reservation called for lower five in car 43 on train number 7,
the Southern Limited. Tully paused beside Bob.
“Are you in car 43?” he asked.
“Lower five,” said Bob.
“Humph,” grunted Tully. “What luck I have. There must have been some
mistake. I’m in upper five.”
“No, I don’t think there was any mistake,” grinned Bob as he visualized
how Tully, who was inclined to stoutness, would look scrambling in and
out of upper five that night. “Perhaps the clerk who made out these
tickets thought you needed a little exercise.”
Picking up their bags they walked to the nearest train gate where the
ticket inspector checked their tickets and waved them toward the Southern
Limited, which was standing on track number three.
Car 43, in which they were to make their journey southward, was near the
center of the train and by the time Bob and Tully were comfortably seated
in the car, the porters were making their final calls of “’bo-o-oard.”
The Southern Limited started slowly but easily picked up speed as the
trucks clicked over the joints.
Travel that day was light and there was only one other passenger on the
car, a man who appeared to be about forty, short, dark, but marked with a
distinguishing streak of grey in the center of his head. He was the type
of man who, though he attracted attention, did not invite
acquaintanceship.
Tully continued to grumble at intervals, complaining that it was grossly
unfair for Bob to have a lower berth while he was compelled to climb into
an upper.
But Bob ignored Tully’s complaints. The train was soon speeding into
Virginia and with the capital behind Bob took out the envelope with the
history of the case they were working on. Since they were practically
alone on the car it would be an ideal time to go over this material and
memorize in detail all of the essential information contained in it.
Tully likewise pulled out the heavy manila envelope which contained a
copy of the same report Bob had in his hands but instead of reading it
there Tully went forward into the smoking compartment. Bob knew that
Tully did not smoke so it was obvious that Tully had gone forward simply
to get away from him.
There were a dozen closely typed sheets in the report and they reviewed
in detail all of the activities of the jewel smugglers which were known
to the federal officials. As he read, Bob was astounded at the daring
with which the smuggling was conducted.
The reports indicated clearly that the headquarters for the smuggling
operations must lie somewhere along the east coast of Florida and the
names of both Nira and Atalissa appeared frequently in the typed reports.
It was evident that at least half a dozen federal men, most of them in
the customs service, had been working on the case at various times.
There was one paragraph in their report that struck Bob with unusual
force. It read:
“A conservative estimate of the amount of jewels which the gang has
smuggled into this country in the last six months would be at least half
a million dollars. There is no way of knowing just how extensive are
their operations. Agents are especially warned to use great care in any
approach to any members of this gang. Agents working on this case should
go armed at all times. It is imperative that the men responsible for
these operations be taken into custody at the earliest possible time.”
Bob read this paragraph several times and it brought home to him the
possible dangers which he might face in the coming weeks.
The other passenger in the car whose seat was behind Bob got up and went
forward into the smoking compartment where Tully had gone previously.
Bob looked up as the man went past him. The stranger was powerfully built
and Bob especially noticed the breadth and strength of his hands.
Bob thought little of the incident but hoped that Tully would have the
good sense to put away the secret papers when the stranger entered the
smoking compartment. As the train sped through the fertile Virginia farm
lands the young federal agent continued his perusal of the report.
The concluding paragraph was such that he read it three or four times.
“From all information at hand, it appears obvious that not more than five
men are involved in this smuggling enterprise. So far we have been unable
to identify positively any member of the gang so all agents are doubly
warned against any incautious remarks which might indicate the reason for
their visit to Florida. In case of any unusual emergency notify
headquarters by long distance telephone at once.”
Bob went back over the report again in detail and, when he had finished,
placed it in the sturdy envelope, sealed it, and put it in his Gladstone
bag. He felt now that he knew as much about the case as it was possible
to learn until he actually reached Atalissa.
After a time Bob walked forward and stepped into the smoking compartment
where Tully and the stranger were engaged in animated conversation.
Tully looked up but there was little warmth in his glance. That, however,
did not deter Bob from sitting down on one of the comfortable leather
upholstered benches. The stranger looked at Bob and a rather pleasant
smile framed his lips.
“Going to Florida?” he asked.
“Jacksonville,” said Bob laconically.
“That’s fine, I’m going there too. Hamsa, Joe Hamsa, is the name,” said
the stranger reaching over and extending his hand in greeting.
Bob grasped the extended hand but he winced slightly at the strength of
the other’s grip.
“I’m Bob Houston of Washington,” replied Bob by way of introducing
himself.
“Going south on business or just taking a vacation?” asked Joe Hamsa and
Bob thought there was a peculiar flicker in the other’s eyes.
“Well, it’s a combination of both,” replied Bob.
“Wish I could say as much,” went on Hamsa, “but it’s all business with
me. I’m glad you boys are on the car today. I don’t like to travel alone
and especially at night.”
Bob wondered just why Mr. Hamsa, who appeared perfectly capable of taking
care of himself, did not care to travel alone. He was not in doubt long
for Hamsa suddenly developed a voluble streak.
“Diamonds are my specialty,” he said, “and I’ve been held up once or
twice. Believe me, there’s no fun in that.”
Mr. Hamsa did not look particularly like the type of man who would submit
to a holdup peacefully, and there was something about him that aroused
suspicions in Bob’s mind.
The young federal agent glanced across the compartment to where Tully was
seated and he was surprised to note that the papers in the confidential
report on the smuggling ring were scattered on the seat beside Tully.
What was even more astounding was the pallor of Tully’s face, and the
glassy stare in his eyes.
“Tully,” cried Bob, “what’s the matter?”
But there was no response from Tully except a slight twitching of his
lips which indicated that he might be trying to answer.
“Tully,” repeated Bob, “what’s the matter?”
The sharp questions voiced by the young federal agent caused Hamsa also
to turn and stare at Tully.
Bob was less than six feet away from Tully, yet the other failed to
answer his questions or to give any sign of recognition. He sat there
like a man under a hypnotic spell.
Bob leaped to his feet and in one long stride was beside Tully. With firm
hands he grasped Tully’s shoulders and shook him vigorously.
Tully’s head dropped forward on his chest and he seemed suddenly to
collapse, sliding forward off the leather bench and falling to the floor.