He turned on the light and opened the door. The same dim lights were burning in the hallway. Closing the door, he was sure that it was locked and then wedged a chair under the doorknob.
When Bob got back into bed he was a sadly perplexed young filing clerk. Why should an attempt be made to enter his room? The riddle was beyond him. Perhaps his uncle could solve it in the morning.
Chapter XIII
BOB FIGHTS BACK
★
Bob’s nerves were tight. The mystery of the turning knob had aroused and sharpened his senses and sleep was slow in coming to him again. He tossed fitfully on the bed, turning the pillow several times in an effort to find a more comfortable place for his head. When he finally dropped asleep it was just before dawn.
Once asleep, Bob fell into a heavy slumber that was finally broken by the strident ringing of the telephone at the stand beside his bed. It was with an effort that he sat up in bed and reached sleepily for the instrument.
“Hello,” he said in a voice still drugged with sleep.
Then all thoughts of sleep were swept from his mind by the message which came over the telephone. It was from his uncle.
“The head of the bureau of investigation wants you to come down for an interview at eleven o’clock,” said Merritt Hughes. “Think you can make it?”
“What time is it now?” asked Bob.
“Nine-thirty.”