Chapter XXIV
A SOLITARY HAND
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Bob, as he eased his weary body into a chair, looked at Condon Adams and Tully Ross. Both of them looked tired and worn and their faces reflected the strain they had been under since the escape of the prisoner from the police station.
“Some more bungling, I expect,” snapped Condon Adams. The words were harsh and uncalled for, and Bob’s temper flared quickly.
“If it was bungling, it wasn’t the first bit of it today,” he shot back at the older federal agent.
Adams’ face flushed. He started to reply, then thought better of it, and remained silent.
“I want to know everything in detail, Bob,” said the federal chief. “Just tell me all that happened this evening.”
“We were eating dinner,” said Bob, “when I happened to put my hand in my coat pocket and I felt a paper in there. When I pulled it out and discovered what it was, I was dumfounded.”
“Dumb-bell!” The word was whispered, but everyone in the room heard it and Bob whirled toward Tully.
“Another crack like that out of you and I’ll take you all apart,” he flared.
“Calm down, boys,” said Waldo Edgar. “We’ve got to get facts and get them at once. A man’s life may be hanging in the balance. Go on Bob.”