Bob tugged hard on the door, but like the one which led to his own office, it stuck. Could it be another wedge of steel? Bob wondered and braced himself for another lusty tug. The door gave way and Bob toppled backward in a heap, the flashlight falling and blinking out. Bob had fallen heavily and for a moment he remained motionless on the floor listening for the sound of someone moving along the corridor. He could have shouted for the guard, but an inward distrust of the man kept him from doing that. Instead, he groped around for the flashlight, turned it on, and got to his feet, considerably shaken in mind and body by the experiences of the last few minutes. The young clerk reached for the light switch and a glare of light flooded the room, revealing even further the destruction which had been wrought there. Bob looked around. Hundreds of papers had been strewn on the floor; some of them had been ruthlessly destroyed and he wondered how many valuable documents would be lost when they finally checked up. But this was no time for inaction, he decided, and he hastened to one of the desks and picked up a telephone. He dialed quickly, but it was nearly a minute before a sleepy voice answered. “Hello, Uncle Merritt?” asked Bob anxiously. “No, I’m not home; I’m still at the building. I wish you’d get down here as soon as you can. “No, I haven’t had an accident, but some mighty strange things have been going on around this floor tonight. One of the offices has been completely ransacked. I’m in it now. Papers have been thrown all over and the filing cases opened and a lot of stuff destroyed. “Who did it? Gosh, I wish I knew. Someone’s been shutting doors on me and leaving steel wedges in them. It’s giving me the creeps.” “I’ll be right down,” promised the Department of Justice agent. Bob placed the receiver back on its hook and backed out of the room. The fewer things he touched the better it would be and as he drew the door shut, he was careful to keep his hands off the knob for there was a possibility of valuable fingerprints being there. An eerie feeling raced up and down Bob’s spine as he turned toward the door which opened into the office where he worked. The building was so quiet it was disturbing, yet he knew some unknown marauder had been busy on the floor while he had been bent over his desk. Could the unknown be after the radio secrets his uncle had hinted about? It was certainly worth considering. Bob reached the door that led into the office where he worked and stopped suddenly. He felt cold all over as he stared at the doorknob. He remembered distinctly having wrapped his own handkerchief around the knob to preserve possible fingerprints. But there was no handkerchief there now and the door was slightly ajar. The light had been on when he stepped into the hall, but now the room was in inky darkness.