“I’m the only one who’s handled them outside of the man who put them in place,” declared Bob, who felt that here might be a really important clue.
The taxi swung toward the curb. A dull light gleamed over the entrance of the apartment house where Bob had a room.
“Sure you’re all right?” his uncle asked.
“Absolutely. I’ll take a shower and hop into bed. Don’t forget to stop for me when you go down town to interview those fellows.”
“That’s a promise,” agreed the federal agent.
Bob jumped out of the cab, hurried across the parking and into the entrance of the apartment. Turning, he watched the cab pull away from the curb. Then he inserted his key in the lock and entered the building. The air was warm and dank and it made him sleepy.
His room was on the third floor at the back and the lights in the hallway were none too bright. Bob’s room was part of an apartment occupied by an elderly couple, but it had an outside entrance on the hallway and he could come and go as he pleased.
Another feature of it was a private bathroom. In spite of its comparative luxury, he was able to obtain the room for a rent well within his modest means for Bob also acted as a sort of caretaker for the apartment when the older people were away on one of their extensive trips.
Bob unlocked the door of his room. He had left one window partially open and the air here was fresh. Turning on the lights he undressed quickly and stepped into the bathroom where he was soon under a shower.
A rough toweling down made his body glow and then he pulled on fresh pajamas. The clock on the dresser showed the time to be three thirty. The night was nearly gone when Bob tumbled into bed and turned off the light on the bedside stand. In less than a minute he was sound asleep.