“Call it anything you like.”
“Then I say that you won’t solve it in two months if you solve it at all.”
“Two months it is,” retorted Bob, “and by that I mean that every angle of this case will be cleaned up and either all of the men connected with it in federal custody or beyond our reach and you can put that down in writing if you want to.”
“I won’t do that,” sneered Tully, “for it might be too embarrassing to have to have it recalled when you fail.”
“I’m not going to fail,” said Bob firmly, and although Tully wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, he had a premonition that Bob was right—that he would not fail.
Chapter V
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.