“I may get a little sleep, but I’m not going home,” replied Bob. “That’s too popular with certain unpleasant people. You can find me at a hotel and I’ll probably change my address every night.” He named a small hotel which was near his own room. “That’s a good idea,” said Waldo Edgar, “but be sure to keep us informed every time you shift to a new address. We’ll let you know the minute we get any information on your uncle. Now you’d better get home and get some sleep.” Bob admitted that he was mighty tired, but he was far from sleepy for his mind was still spinning in circles. When he left the office Condon Adams and Tully Ross stepped out into the hall with him and they descended to the main floor in the same elevator. Bob could feel the cold wave of animosity which engulfed the others and he knew that though they would make every effort to recover the radio secret, they probably would not overtax their energies in finding his uncle. As they walked toward the main door, Condon Adams spoke. “We’ll call on you when we need help, but this thing is going to be easy. Too bad your uncle muffed it this afternoon.” Bob wheeled and faced him squarely. “Let’s have an understanding right now. In the first place, my uncle didn’t muff anything. I’d like to have seen you do any better than he did when three gunmen were shooting at you in a dark street and the only escape was at an end where there was a brilliant street light. Now as far as getting things in a mess, it seems to me that you did a perfect job when you let that prisoner, the one man who could have supplied valuable information, take your gun away from you in the police station this afternoon. That makes you out to be quite a chump and I’ve always thought you were.” Bob was surprised at his own words and his own boldness, but he saw a look something like apprehension in Condon Adams’ eyes. “You don’t like my uncle; you never have. You’ve always been jealous of his brains and his ability. Your nephew doesn’t like me. Well, that goes for me, too. I don’t think you’ll make any effort to find my uncle. If you can recover that paper, well and good—that’s your first thought. But I’m serving notice on you right now that I’m going to find him and I’m going to recover that paper. And I’ll do it without any help from either one of you. So here’s a tip. I’m tired and I’m mad and I don’t like you. Right now I can think of nothing I’d like to do better than give each of you a biff on the nose and if you open your mouths again about my uncle, I’ll do just that thing. Good night.” Bob’s words had so amazed both Adams and his nephew that they were speechless and the young federal agent turned and stepped through the main doorway. Tully Ross, angry words crowding to his lips, started to follow Bob, but the firm hands of Condon Adams stopped him.