“Fritz came to my apartment and demanded money, but I actually didn’t have it. He went away for a while, and then came again later. It was on this visit last week that I got some inkling of what was in his mind. He started hinting around about the secrets which passed through my hands for filing and for safe-guarding. After an hour or so he came out in the open and made me a proposition. He knew where he could sell the secret of this new radio-propelled and guided plane if I could get my hands on the War Department papers.”
The filing chief stopped to pour out another glass of water.
“Go on,” urged Bob, who was desperately anxious to learn the full story and then resume the hunt for his uncle.
“Fritz offered me $5,000 for my share if I would only tell him when the papers reached the office. He said that was all they needed to know. I could have used the $5,000, but I told him I wouldn’t do such a thing. Then a couple of days later I got a letter from him. It was mailed somewhere over in Maryland and he repeated his offer and threatened me with exposing an old family scandal.”
“That was the letter Condon Adams found,” exclaimed Bob, and the filing chief nodded.
“I was careless about that. I tossed it in the fireplace, but didn’t make sure that it had been consumed.”
“But did you supply your brother with the necessary information?” asked Bob, pressing hard for more concrete information.
Arthur Jacobs lowered his head.
“Fritz came back the other night. He was in a terrible rage. He had promised to get this information from me, and had failed. You’ll never know the fear I’ve always had of Fritz. He was bigger, older and he always bullied me. He threatened to beat me to death and I finally told him what he wanted to know.”
Bob saw tears welling into the chief clerk’s eyes and he turned his own face away, for it had not been easy to hear this confession. When the young federal agent finally looked back, Arthur Jacobs was composed and calm once more.