Bob nodded, for Tully was right. In spite of the secrecy which usually surrounded the filing of important documents, the clerks often knew what was going through their hands, for even the walls in Washington seemed to have eyes and ears and whispers flitted from one department to another in a mysterious underground manner which was impossible to stop. Sometimes the conjecture of the clerks was right; again they might all be wrong. But it was on such talk as this that secrets sometimes slipped away and into the hands of men and women for whom they had never been intended. Bob’s division, which filed all of the radio documents, had enjoyed a particularly good record. The chief, Arthur Jacobs, had been in charge since before World War days, and he had used extreme care in the selection of the personnel. There was yet to come the first major leak and Bob hoped fervently that it would not happen while he was in the division. Tully puttered around his own desk, shoving papers here and there and obviously making an effort to appear interested. Once he glanced sharply at Bob, who was intent on his own work. Finally Tully stood up and walked to one of the windows. He gazed out for several minutes and Bob, glancing up at him, got the impression that Tully was trying to make up his mind what to do. The next thing Bob noticed, Tully was on the other side of the room, pulling open one of the filing cases. The floor was carpeted and his steps from the window to the filing cases had been noiseless. There was no rule against a clerk opening one of the cases, for the documents kept there were of no major importance. Something in Tully’s attitude caught Bob’s attention. Then he realized that Tully was looking into one of the files which was under Bob’s supervision and there was a strict rule against that. Bob hesitated for a moment. It seemed a little foolish to make an issue over that. Probably Tully had done it absentmindedly. Then he remembered his uncle’s warning to watch everything going on in the division. “Tully, you’re in the wrong file,” said Bob. Tully turned around quickly, his face flushing darkly. “No harm, I guess. I just wondered what you’ve been doing and how you’ve been handling your file. I heard Jacobs complimenting you the other day and thought I could get some good pointers by looking your stuff over.” “That’s okay, Tully. I’ll show you sometime when Jacobs is here, but you know the rule about the files. I’ll have to ask you to close that one.” “And suppose I don’t?” snapped Tully. “Oh, you’ll close it all right,” said Bob. His voice was still calm and even, but there was a note of warning that Tully dared not ignore. Bob closed the file on his desk and stood up, stretching his long, powerful arms. Tully didn’t miss the significance of the motion for Bob had a well founded reputation as a boxer. Tully turned back to the filing case and slammed the steel drawer shut.