“Not many,” retorted Tully, who appeared to take malicious glee in taunting the filing chief.
“That’s enough, Tully. You know there have been serious happenings. Bob was attacked by a marauder who had gone through the files here.”
“What was he doing out of the room; how did anyone get in?” It was Condon Adams’ turn to speak.
Bob replied sharply, explaining what had happened.
“I’d call it mighty poor judgment on your part to leave this room no matter what the circumstances,” said Adams. “I think I’ll lodge a complaint against you.”
“That’s going far enough,” Merritt Hughes said firmly. “You’ll do nothing of the kind. If this thing is going to get as personal as that I’ll file one against your nephew for coming up here and attempting to get into a file that is prohibited to him. Now how would you like that?”
It was obvious that Adams did not relish the suggestion and the whole matter of filing complaints was dropped right there.
Merritt Hughes took charge then, questioning Tully carefully about all of his actions while he was in the room. Tully was surly, but he answered truthfully enough.
“How about it, Bob?” asked the federal agent.
“What’s the matter? Doubt my word?” flared Tully, his dark face flushing.