Sleep vanished from his eyes. There was no mistake about it. Someone was outside his door, trying the knob ever so gently. At that moment Bob longed for some other weapon than his two capable hands. The side of the bed nearest the door creaked and Bob knew if he eased his body over that edge the creaking of the bed might scare away the marauder. Moving cautiously, he slid out the side next to the wall and put his bare feet on the floor. An alleyway ran back of the apartment and a street light at the head of this sent just enough light down to mark the window as a lighter square against the general pattern of darkness. This turning of the doorknob was getting to be too much for Bob and he cast about for some object which he could use as a club. His golf bag was in the corner and he managed to extract a steel shafted midiron which would make an excellent weapon if he had a chance to swing it. There was no thought of fear in Bob’s mind as he moved toward the door. His bare feet padded softly across the floor and he reached out and touched the doorknob with his finger tips. It was moving. For a moment Bob recoiled like he had been struck by an electric shock. Then he got a grip on his nerves and reached down for the key which he had left in the lock on the inside of the door. To his surprise the key was not in the lock. Then he understood the slight noise that had aroused him. Whoever was on the other side of the door had pushed the key out of the lock and the noise made when it had struck the floor had brought him out of his sleep. Bob leaned down and felt along the floor. He reached out in his search for the key, became overbalanced, and before he could regain his equilibrium, dropped to his knees with a thud that was plainly audible in the hall. Bob’s hands closed on the key he sought, but as he drew himself upright again he heard someone running down the hall. Seconds later came the slam of an outside door and Bob knew that it would be useless to attempt any pursuit. 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.