Bob nodded. “You know he does. He got me into the service and he’s pretty much of an older brother to me.”
A waitress took their orders before Adams spoke again.
“Then you know how I feel about Tully; he’s kind of a kid brother to me. But that’s getting away from what I started to say. Your uncle and I have always been rivals in the service. One of us would solve a good case and then the other would win on the next one. He’s never liked the way I got in through a little political help, but on the whole I’ve done a pretty good job. Gosh, I wouldn’t know what to do if anything happened to him to take him out of the service.”
“He may be out for good now unless we can find him,” said Bob bitterly.
“That’s just it, and Bob, differences are going to be forgotten for the time. Why I wouldn’t be happy if your uncle and I weren’t in some kind of a scrap to see who could solve a new case. We’ll find him and we’ll find him soon.”
“Then you’ll work a hundred per cent on the case?” asked Bob.
“Day and night,” promised Condon Adams, reaching across the table to clasp Bob’s hand firmly in his own and Bob knew that the older agent was a man of his word and highly competent in his own peculiar way.
Cups of steaming coffee were set before them as well as the plate of doughnuts which Adams had ordered. They attacked the lunch with a will and Bob, draining his cup of coffee a few minutes later, caught another glimpse of the slender, slouching figure he had seen in the main waiting room.
“Don’t turn around,” he said to Adams, “but when we get up, look at the little fellow in the dark cap and suit. He’s outside looking in the window. I had a feeling in the station he was watching me.”
Condon Adams reached for the checks and stood up. In reaching for his traveling bag he was able to turn toward the broad glass window and get a good view of the man Bob had described.