“I’ll take a taxi home; you won’t need to come for me,” protested Bob.
“You’re not going to take a taxi home and you’re not going home. Until this thing is cleared up you’re going to stay with me. Then if anyone decides to pay us a visit in the middle of the night we’ll give them a surprise.”
“Let me know if anything big breaks,” urged Bob, and his uncle promised to do this.
After their parting, Bob walked down the street alone. A police car sped by, but its siren was not sounding an alarm, and Bob wondered if the rush of the first chase for the escaped prisoner was over.
As he hurried toward the archives building, he pondered the events of the last 24 hours. It seemed almost incredible that so much could have happened; that he could have been involved in so many different and exciting things. And now he was a federal agent. True he was only on provisional duty, but if he made good, there was an excellent chance that he would become a permanent member of the great crime-fighting organization.
His uncle had been right—so far the breaks had all been against them and now the one man on whom they had been counting for information had slipped away. But Bob couldn’t help a grin as he thought of the chagrin which Condon Adams must be suffering now. It would be hard to explain that escape from the very heart of a police station.
Bob turned into the building where his own office was located and took the elevator to the top floor.
When he entered the office he almost bumped into Arthur Jacobs, the filing chief.
“Any news?” asked Jacobs anxiously and Bob shook his head.
“What about the prisoner captured last night?”