But from the back of the room, where he had stepped in unnoticed, Waldo Edgar spoke quietly. “Let Jacobs talk in his own way,” he ruled. “The rest of us will step out while Bob talks with him.” The legs of the chair in which Tully Ross had been leaning back against the wall struck the floor with a thud and Tully started to protest, but his uncle, realizing the futility, waved him into silence. Lieutenant Gibbons grinned at Bob as the others left the room. He was the last to step out and he closed the door carefully behind him. When they were alone a tremendous burden seemed to lift from the shoulders of the filing chief. “I’ve got to talk,” he told Bob, in a voice so low that it would have been impossible for anyone at the door to hear. “But I had to talk with someone I could trust.” He paused for a moment. “Your uncle is missing?” “He was kidnaped last night,” replied Bob. “There were three in the gang and they got him and the radio paper which was stolen from our file.” Arthur Jacobs nodded sorrowfully. “I’m sorry about that, Bob, for he is in great danger then. I’ll tell my story as quickly as I can; then you must act without loss of time.” Chapter XXVII ACTION AHEAD ★ Arthur Jacobs wiped the perspiration from his forehead and then reached for the glass of water. He drained it at one gulp and leaned back in his chair, an air of relief on his face. Bob, tense, waited for him to speak. When the words finally came they rushed out in a torrent and Bob heard a story that wrenched at his own heart. “It’s been terrible, Bob, terrible. I’ve got to tell you the whole story. When Fritz escaped from prison he made his way east and I had letters from him. He needed money; he had always needed money as far as that was concerned. When I sent word that I had none to spare, he started threatening me. Then he fell in with bad company and the first thing I knew he was here in Washington.” The filing chief paused a moment and wiped his forehead again for the perspiration was running freely. “Fritz came to my apartment and demanded money, but I actually didn’t have it. He went away for a while, and then came again later. It was on this visit last week that I got some inkling of what was in his mind. He started hinting around about the secrets which passed through my hands for filing and for safe-guarding. After an hour or so he came out in the open and made me a proposition. He knew where he could sell the secret of this new radio-propelled and guided plane if I could get my hands on the War Department papers.” The filing chief stopped to pour out another glass of water. “Go on,” urged Bob, who was desperately anxious to learn the full story and then resume the hunt for his uncle.