“Bob, Bob, are you hurt?” demanded the ace federal agent. Bob managed to shake his head. Just then he was too exhausted even to talk. As he watched the flashlights swept around the room, revealing its wild disorder. Then the lights focused on the form of a man sprawled out under the nearest desk and Bob caught his breath for the man was in a uniform of one of the night watchmen. So that was the reason why there had been no response to his calls for help; the marauder had been the guard! Merritt Hughes stepped over to the unconscious form and gazed at the man’s face. “You certainly landed a haymaker on one eye,” he told Bob. “Know who he is?” Bob managed to sit up where he could glimpse the other man. “He’s the guard who was on duty tonight,” he said, “but I don’t know his name. He is a new man.” Merritt Hughes chuckled grimly. “Well, he’s going to a lot different place. Maybe he’ll be able to remember his name and tell us a few things when he wakes up. Now just what happened here?” “It’s a long story,” began Bob. “Then save it until we’re alone later. Was anyone else running around up here tonight except yourself and the guard?” Bob thought instantly of Tully Ross, then decided to wait and tell his uncle about that when they were alone. “This fellow was the only intruder,” replied Bob, which was true enough, for Tully belonged to the office staff. “Take him down to the nearest station and have him fingerprinted and photographed,” the federal agent told the policemen. The officers leaned down and picked up the man Bob had fought and managed somehow to get him to his feet. Supporting him on their shoulders they walked him down the hall and Bob heard the elevator doors click. Bob’s uncle tried to turn on the lights in the room, but the switches, though they snapped as usual, failed to send any current into the lights. “Fuses blown,” Bob heard him mutter. They were alone now, the police having departed with their prisoner. “Here’s an extra flashlight, Bob. See if you can find anything missing by making a hurried search around the room,” directed Merritt Hughes. Bob felt stronger now and he got to his feet. He was still a little unsteady, but the cool, rain washed air, coming in sharp gusts through the window now, cleared his head and he took the flashlight which his uncle offered. The twin beams of light swept around the room. “What a mess!” exclaimed the federal agent, as the lights revealed the utter confusion. “Who’s in charge?” he asked. “Arthur Jacobs is the filing chief for this room,” replied Bob. “Then you’d better get him on the telephone and see that he gets down here at once. Explain what’s happened and tell him that you want to check over the files for any possible missing papers.” Bob looked up the number of the filing chief’s home telephone and dialed. It was some time before a sleepy voice answered and when Bob informed the filing chief who was speaking the voice was sharp and angry.