Once asleep, Bob fell into a heavy slumber that was finally broken by the strident ringing of the telephone at the stand beside his bed. It was with an effort that he sat up in bed and reached sleepily for the instrument. “Hello,” he said in a voice still drugged with sleep. Then all thoughts of sleep were swept from his mind by the message which came over the telephone. It was from his uncle. “The head of the bureau of investigation wants you to come down for an interview at eleven o’clock,” said Merritt Hughes. “Think you can make it?” “What time is it now?” asked Bob. “Nine-thirty.” “I’ll be there with half an hour to spare,” promised Bob. “I’ve got a lot to tell you.” “Anything happen?” There was a note of anxiety in the question. “Not quite. Tell you about it later. Where will I meet you?” The federal agent named an office in the Department of Justice building and Bob promised to be there right after breakfast. He hung up the receiver and piled out of bed. His muscles were still a little sore as a result of the encounter of the night before, but a snappy shower toned up his body and when he finished dressing he felt that he was ready for anything the day might have in store in the way of excitement and adventure. Bob put on his topcoat and then removed the chair which he had wedged under the doorknob. In the cool light of the morning, the events of the night before seemed fantastic yet he knew that one man was in jail while another was in a hospital. Bob stepped into the hall and carefully locked the door. More or less as a reaction he looked cautiously up and down the hall and then laughed at himself. It was just a plain hall and his fears seemed so ridiculous now. It was 9:45 o’clock when Bob stepped out of the apartment building. He paused a moment to turn down the brim of his hat for the glare of the sun was too bright for unprotected eyes. Across the street a large, dark sedan was parked and several men were apparently waiting for someone to emerge from the apartment house opposite. Bob turned and strode down the street. There was ample time for him to have a leisurely breakfast and still reach the Department of Justice building with plenty of time to spare. The young filing clerk stopped at a nearby restaurant where he usually had breakfast and ordered rolls and coffee. Several morning papers were on the table and he scanned them with unusual interest. Washington reporters were unusually alert and it was just possible that they might have received some hint of what had taken place last night. Bob went through every page, but there was no story even remotely connected with the night before. He put down the papers and turned to his breakfast, wondering what the chief of the bureau of investigation wanted. Of course it must be linked with the radio document, but Bob felt that his uncle could adequately give all of the information needed.