Bob Houston, youthful clerk in the archives division of the War Department, drew his topcoat closer about him and shivered as he stepped out of the shelter of the apartment house entrance and faced the chill fall rain.

Going back to the office after a full day bent over a desk was no fun, but a job was a job, and Bob was thankful for even the small place he filled in the great machine of government.

The raw, beating rain swept into his face as he strode down the avenue. A cruising taxicab, hoping for a passenger, pulled along the curb, but Bob waved the vehicle away. Just then he had no extra funds to invest in taxi fare.

The avenue was deserted and Bob doubted if there would be many at work in the huge building where the archives division was sheltered.

At the end of a fifteen-minute walk Bob turned in at the entrance of a hulking gray structure. The night guard nodded as he recognized Bob and the clerk stepped through the doorway.

Bob paused in the warmth of the lobby and shook the water from his coat and hat. Fortunately he had worn rubbers so his feet were dry and he felt there was little chance of his catching cold.

The door behind him opened and a blast of raw air swirled into the lobby.

Bob turned quickly; then hurried to greet the newcomer.

“Hello Uncle Merritt,” he cried. “I didn’t expect to run into you down here tonight.”

Merritt Hughes, one of the crack agents of the Department of Justice, smiled as he shook the rain from his hat.

“I was driving home when I caught a glimpse of you coming in here. Working tonight?”

“I’ve got at least two hours of work ahead of me,” replied Bob.

“Anyone else going to be with you?” inquired his uncle.

“No, I’m alone.”

“Good. I want to talk with you where there is no chance that we may be overheard.”

Bob was tempted to ask what it was all about, but he knew that in good time his uncle would tell him.

They stepped into an automatic elevator and Bob pressed the control button.

There was a distinct resemblance between uncle and nephew. Merritt Hughes looked as though he might be Bob’s older brother. He was well built, about five feet eight inches tall, and usually tipped the scales at 160 pounds, but there was no fat on his well conditioned body. His hair was a dull brown, but the keenness of his eyes made up for whatever coloring was lacking in his hair.

Bob was taller than his uncle and would outweigh him ten pounds. His hair was light and his pleasant blue eyes were alert to everything that was going on. Both had rather large and definite noses, and Bob often chided his uncle on that family trait.

The elevator stopped at the top floor and they stepped out. Another guard stopped them and Bob was forced to present his identification card. The small golden badge which his uncle displayed was sufficient to gain his admittance.

Bob’s desk was in one wing of the archives division and they made their way there without loss of time. Bob took his uncle’s topcoat and hung it beside his own. When he turned back to his desk, his uncle was seated on the other side, leaning back comfortably in a swivel chair.

“Still have the idea you’d like to join the bureau of investigation of the Department of Justice?” asked Merritt Hughes. The question was casual, almost offhand, and Bob wasn’t sure that he had heard correctly.

“You’re kidding me now,” he grinned. “You know I’d like to get in the service, but I haven’t a chance. Why, I’m not through with my college work, and they’re only taking graduates now.”

“I’m not kidding, Bob; I’m serious. I think there may be a chance for you to get in. Of course you’d have to finish your college work after you were in the department, but that wouldn’t be too much of a handicap.”

“I’ll say it wouldn’t,” exulted Bob. “Now tell me what it’s all about. The last time I talked to you about getting in, you gave me about as much encouragement as though I was suggesting a swim across the Atlantic ocean.”

Merritt Hughes was a long time in answering, and when he finally spoke his voice was so low that anyone ten feet away would have been unable to hear his words.

“There’s trouble and big trouble brewing right in this department,” he said. “We don’t know just exactly what is going to happen, but we must be prepared for any emergency.”

Bob started to speak, but his uncle waved the words aside and went on.

“We could plant an agent here, but that might be too obvious. What we need is someone on the inside whom we can trust fully.”

Bob, teetering on the edge of his chair, breathlessly waited for the next words.

“I’m counting on you to be the key in the intrigue that’s going on right now in this building,” said Merritt Hughes. “What about it?”

“You know you can rely on me,” said Bob. “Why, I’d do almost anything, take almost any risk to get into the bureau of investigation of the Department of Justice.”

“I know you would, Bob, but that isn’t going to be necessary. All I want is someone who will keep his eyes open, listen to everything that is said around here, and report to me each night in detail. You know I wouldn’t want you butting into something where you might get hurt.”

“But I’m young and husky. I can take care of myself,” protested Bob, his eyes reflecting his eagerness.

“Sure, I know you can, but after all I’ve got to look out for you. Your mother would never forgive me if any actual harm came to you while you were doing a little sleuthing for me.”

There was a tender note in the voice of the agent, for it had devolved upon him to watch over Bob and his mother after the death of his sister’s husband some six years before. He had been faithful to the trust and he had no intention now of placing Bob in any situation where there would be real jeopardy to his life.

“Go on, go on,” urged Bob. “Tell me what I’m to watch for and what you suspect.”

Instead of answering Merritt Hughes stepped to the door, opened it, made a careful survey of the hall, and then drew his chair closer to Bob.