“I don’t know, but I’ll find out if you like.”
“I would,” said the filing chief simply and Bob stepped into an adjoining office and telephoned the archives division, where he was informed that a senior clerk from another office had taken over the duties temporarily.
When Bob stepped back into the larger room, Jacobs was sweating freely.
“Everything’s all right at the office,” volunteered Bob, who felt sorry for the little man. “Bondurance, from the next office, is taking charge and they’re getting along all right. Of course they miss you.”
“I’m afraid they won’t get those papers back in the proper order. It’s an awful mess.”
Bob agreed that it was and he couldn’t make himself feel that Arthur Jacobs, so obviously worried about the routine at the office, could be guilty of anything very bad.
“Come on, now Jacobs,” broke in the heavy voice of Condon Adams. “Quit this stalling and get down to business. How much did you get for selling out this secret?”
“But I tell you I didn’t get anything,” replied the filing chief, spreading his hands out on the table in a dramatic denial. “How many times must I tell you this?”
“Until you tell me the truth and admit that you were paid to sell information on a government secret.”
“Oh, go away; quit bothering me,” cried the man behind the table.