The elevator stopped at the top floor and they stepped out. Another guard stopped them and Bob was forced to present his identification card. The small golden badge which his uncle displayed was sufficient to gain his admittance.
Bob’s desk was in one wing of the archives division and they made their way there without loss of time. Bob took his uncle’s topcoat and hung it beside his own. When he turned back to his desk, his uncle was seated on the other side, leaning back comfortably in a swivel chair.
“Still have the idea you’d like to join the bureau of investigation of the Department of Justice?” asked Merritt Hughes. The question was casual, almost offhand, and Bob wasn’t sure that he had heard correctly.
“You’re kidding me now,” he grinned. “You know I’d like to get in the service, but I haven’t a chance. Why, I’m not through with my college work, and they’re only taking graduates now.”
“I’m not kidding, Bob; I’m serious. I think there may be a chance for you to get in. Of course you’d have to finish your college work after you were in the department, but that wouldn’t be too much of a handicap.”
“I’ll say it wouldn’t,” exulted Bob. “Now tell me what it’s all about. The last time I talked to you about getting in, you gave me about as much encouragement as though I was suggesting a swim across the Atlantic ocean.”
Merritt Hughes was a long time in answering, and when he finally spoke his voice was so low that anyone ten feet away would have been unable to hear his words.
“There’s trouble and big trouble brewing right in this department,” he said. “We don’t know just exactly what is going to happen, but we must be prepared for any emergency.”
Bob started to speak, but his uncle waved the words aside and went on.
“We could plant an agent here, but that might be too obvious. What we need is someone on the inside whom we can trust fully.”