Bob knew that was only a threat, but he was interested in the reaction in the face of the man on the bed and he saw a weakening of the lines around the mouth as though the thought of physical punishment was unnerving. Condon Adams must have sensed the same thing for he advanced with a threatening gesture of his fists and the man on the bed cringed away from him. “You can’t hit me,” he cried. “Maybe not, but I’d like to,” scowled Adams, and Bob knew that the older federal agent was sincere in that. Chapter XXV BOB GETS READY ★ Adams plied the wounded man with questions, but all of the answers were evasive and he finally turned to Bob. “We’ll let him go for tonight. I’ll come back and see him tomorrow and I’ll see him alone. I can make him talk.” They left the room after admonishing the policeman on guard to remain on the alert for any attempt to free the wounded man. Out in the hallway Condon Adams confessed to his disappointment. “I thought maybe he’d break and talk. He’s a weakling. I’ll get it out of him later.” “How much later?” asked Bob. “That’s just it. I don’t know. It may be too late to help in the hunt for your uncle.” Down on the main floor of the hospital once more they telephoned for a taxicab and when it appeared, gave the driver orders to go to Bob’s hotel. They were silent on the trip back into the heart of the city and when they reached the hotel Condon Adams registered for a room on the same floor as those of Bob and his uncle. Bob went directly to his own room and made a final inspection of the articles in his Gladstone bag. The rifle and ammunition appeared intact and he removed the revolver from the shoulder holster, cleaned it carefully and refilled the chambers. After that was done he inspected his coat. It appeared ruined beyond repair for the revolver bullets had torn through the cloth and sparks from the burning powder had extended the area of the damage. Bob removed the suit he had been wearing and got into the comfortable and rough and ready corduroys which he had brought with him. He laced up his boots and then adjusted the shoulder holster, making sure that it would swing free in case he faced any other emergencies similar to the one which had confronted them a little more than an hour before. Condon Adams tapped on the door and then came in. “About ready to start for Atalissa?” he asked. Bob nodded. “I can get a southbound local at 3 a. m. After about three hours I change to an accommodation train that finally winds up at Atalissa somewhere around noon. Not a very pleasant ride, but I don’t want to attract attention either by breezing in there in a car or a boat and as the roads are none too good, I think the train is the best bet.” “How about communications out of the village? You may need help in a hurry?” “I haven’t checked up on them,” confessed Bob.