“You are sure I wasn’t struck over the head?” he looked at Bob so sharply that Bob was inclined to laugh.
“Don’t accuse me of doing a thing like that,” he retorted, but there was no anger in his words.
“But I tell you it felt like something struck my face. Then there was a blanket of darkness that settled over me and I couldn’t move or say a word. It was a mighty helpless sort of feeling.”
Bob agreed that there had been nothing pleasant about the experience and he helped Tully in getting undressed. Tully drew the letter with its confidential report on the smuggling ring out of an inner pocket.
“This goes under my pillow,” he said.
“I thought it was kind of foolish for you to read it while Hamsa was in the smoking compartment with you,” said Bob, and a flicker of anger glowed in Tully’s eyes.
“Hamsa’s all right,” he replied. “You take care of your copy and I’ll take care of mine.”
With that Tully pulled out the flap of the envelope and drew forth the closely typewritten pages which comprised the report.
Bob saw a sudden, startled change in Tully’s face, and he leaned closer.
“Bob,” whispered the other. “Look at these pages. Am I seeing things?”