Bob opened the door in response to the summons.
“Thought something might have happened to you,” said the guard, half apologetically.
“Something did,” smiled Bob. “I went sound asleep. I’d better get out of here and get to bed.”
While the guard looked on, Bob turned off the lights, locked the room and started toward the elevator.
The guard halted him a few paces down the hall.
“Sorry, Mr. Houston, but I’ll have to search you. There’s a new rule that anyone working on this floor out of hours must be searched.”
Bob was half inclined to be angry, but he realized the soundness of this rule, especially after what had just taken place. He quietly submitted to a careful search of his clothing by the guard.
“You know your job,” said Bob when the search was over.
“I used to be a store detective,” replied the other, with not a little pride in his voice, “and if I do say it myself, I was one of the best in Washington.”
It was only a few blocks to the hotel at which Bob had decided to take up temporary quarters, and he walked the short distance at a brisk pace.