“I’ll even put eyes in the back of my head,” grinned Bob as his uncle stood up and donned his topcoat. “How long will you work tonight?” asked Merritt Hughes as he opened the door which gave access to the hallway. “Probably two hours; maybe even three.” “Watch yourself. Goodnight.” Then he was gone and Bob was alone in the high-vaulted room where the rays from the light on his desk failed to penetrate into the deep shadows and a strange feeling of premonition crept over him. For a moment he felt that someone was watching him and to dispel this feeling he turned on the glaring top lights. The room was empty! Chapter III BOB HAS A VISITOR ★ Bob turned off the top lights and returned to his desk, which was one of half a dozen in the long and rather narrow room at one corner of the building. As he sat down he could hear the beat of the rain against the window and looking out could see, through the curtain of water, the dimmed lights of the sprawling city. On a clear night the view was awe-inspiring, but on this night his only thought was to complete his work and to return to the warmth and comfort of his own room. Bob delved into the pile of papers which had accumulated in the wire basket on his desk. They must be filed and the proper notations made. There was nothing of especial importance, or he would not have been working alone for it was a rule of the division that when documents of great importance were to be filed, at least two clerks and usually the chief of the division must be on hand. Sometimes even armed guards came in while the filing was taking place for some of the secrets in the great vaults across the corridor were worth millions to unscrupulous men and to other powers. But until tonight, until his uncle’s words had aroused him, Bob had felt his own work was rather commonplace. There was nothing in his life which compared with the excitement and the almost daily daring of the men in the bureau of investigation of the Department of Justice. The hours were rather long, the work was routine and his companions, though pleasant, were satisfied with their own careers. They were not looking ahead and dreaming of the day when they might wear one of the little badges which identified a Department of Justice agent. Then Bob realized that he must stop his day dreaming. Or was it day dreaming after all? His uncle had said that there was now a possibility that he might join the department. But this was no time to ponder about that. He could think of his future when he returned to his room. Bob went to a filing case which was along the inside wall of the room and extracted a folder. Taking it back to his desk he started making entries of the papers which were on his desk. He worked slowly but thoroughly, and his handwriting was clear and definite.