"I wouldn't say so," replied the nurse cautiously, leading the way downthe darkened corridor to a room where the lights were aglow. She openedthe door and they stepped in, a nurse who had been near the bed rising asthey entered. A policeman on the other side of the bed did likewise.
"Don't make him talk too much," cautioned the night supervisor.
Bob looked at the man who had attempted to kidnap them. His face was thinand marred with a sneer.
"You fellows can save your breath. I won't talk," he said, an unpleasantwhine in his voice, and Bob catalogued him as a dangerous man when armed,but one who was weak physically.
"We'll see about that," said Adams confidently. "The boys down at thestation are working over the fellow who was driving for you. If you don'ttalk here, we'll work you over when you get out."
Bob knew that was only a threat, but he was interested in the reaction inthe face of the man on the bed and he saw a weakening of the lines aroundthe mouth as though the thought of physical punishment was unnerving.
Condon Adams must have sensed the same thing for he advanced with athreatening gesture of his fists and the man on the bed cringed away fromhim.
"You can't hit me," he cried.
"Maybe not, but I'd like to," scowled Adams, and Bob knew that the olderfederal agent was sincere in that.
Chapter XXV BOB GETS READY *
Adams plied the wounded man with questions, but all of the answers wereevasive and he finally turned to Bob.
"We'll let him go for tonight. I'll come back and see him tomorrow andI'll see him alone. I can make him talk."
They left the room after admonishing the policeman on guard to remain onthe alert for any attempt to free the wounded man.
Out in the hallway Condon Adams confessed to his disappointment.
"I thought maybe he'd break and talk. He's a weakling. I'll get it out ofhim later."
"How much later?" asked Bob.
"That's just it. I don't know. It may be too late to help in the hunt foryour uncle."
Down on the main floor of the hospital once more they telephoned for ataxicab and when it appeared, gave the driver orders to go to Bob'shotel. They were silent on the trip back into the heart of the city andwhen they reached the hotel Condon Adams registered for a room on thesame floor as those of Bob and his uncle.
Bob went directly to his own room and made a final inspection of thearticles in his Gladstone bag. The rifle and ammunition appeared intactand he removed the revolver from the shoulder holster, cleaned itcarefully and refilled the chambers.
After that was done he inspected his coat. It appeared ruined beyondrepair for the revolver bullets had torn through the cloth and sparksfrom the burning powder had extended the area of the damage.
Bob removed the suit he had been wearing and got into the comfortable andrough and ready corduroys which he had brought with him. He laced up hisboots and then adjusted the shoulder holster, making sure that it wouldswing free in case he faced any other emergencies similar to the onewhich had confronted them a little more than an hour before.
Condon Adams tapped on the door and then came in.
"About ready to start for Atalissa?" he asked.
Bob nodded.
"I can get a southbound local at 3 a. m. After about three hours I changeto an accommodation train that finally winds up at Atalissa somewherearound noon. Not a very pleasant ride, but I don't want to attractattention either by breezing in there in a car or a boat and as the roadsare none too good, I think the train is the best bet."
"How about communications out of the village? You may need help in ahurry?"
"I haven't checked up on them," confessed Bob.
The older federal agent went to the telephone and after a lengthyconversation with the hotel clerk, secured the desired information.
"The telegraph office at the railroad station is open from eight o'clockin the morning to five o'clock in the evening. The phone exchange, whichseems to be pretty much of a one horse affair, closes at nine o'clock inthe evening. If anything happens after that you'll have to get theoperator out of bed in order to get a call through. I'm making myheadquarters here. Let me know the minute anything turns up."
"I'll do that," promised Bob, who, while he could not exactly warm up toCondon Adams, felt sure that the older man would bend every effort towardthe recovery of his uncle. "I'll let you know where I can be reached inAtalissa so you can get news to me the minute Uncle Merritt is found."
Condon Adams glanced at his wrist watch.
"You haven't much time to lose if you're going to make that southboundlocal."
Bob looked at his own watch. It was 2:45 o'clock. He closed his Gladstonebag and tightened the straps. Condon Adams walked ahead of him into thehall and then as far as the elevator.
"Don't take too many chances, Bob, and keep your chin up. This thing isgoing to come out all right."
Chapter XXVI "DON'T MOVE!" *
Bob wished that he could feel the confidence of Condon Adams' words as hestepped into the elevator and dropped toward the main floor. At the deskhe turned in his room key and then took a taxi to the same station whereearlier in the night, in company with Condon Adams, he had captured twoof the suspected gem smugglers.
The young federal agent purchased his ticket for Atalissa and the agentcautioned him about the change at the junction. Then Bob picked up hisbag and walked through the now practically deserted waiting room and outinto the train shed where a stubby, three car train was waiting for thefinal call of "booo-ard" to start its jerking journey southward. Anexpress car and a combination baggage and mail car were behind the enginewhile the rear car was a dimly lighted coach.
Bob climbed up the steps. The seats were of green plush, and halfway upthe interior of the car was a wooden partition which marked the forwardend of the coach as the smoking compartment. There were only two peoplein the rear half and Bob turned one seat over so a double seat would beavailable. Then he stuck his ticket in his hat band, folded up hiscorduroy coat for a pillow, and curled up to make the best of the lonelytrip to Atalissa.
The federal agent had dropped into a light sleep when the train started.He roused up long enough to hear it roll over a bridge and then he wentback to sleep, failing to hear the conductor when he removed the ticketfrom the band of his hat.
The local jerked and stopped and then jerked into motion again. Thisoperation was repeated a number of times, but Bob slept heavily throughit all, for his body was near exhaustion. It was well after dawn when hefinally moved and he groaned softly as the blood started flowing oncemore through his cramped legs.
Bob sat up and massaged his legs and arms. It was quite clear out now andthe local was rocking along a desolate stretch of Florida east coast.Somewhere along the line the other passengers had left the train and Bobwas now the only occupant of the coach.
He got up and walked to the water cooler. Fortunately there was an amplesupply of water and after bathing his face and hands with the coolliquid, he felt much refreshed though ravenously hungry.
Up ahead the engineer blasted his whistle for a highway crossing and Bobfelt the air brakes go on, the old wooden coach jumping around in protestas the speed dropped sharply. They clacked over switches and Bob, lookingahead, could see a weather beaten station, on the other side of whichanother train was standing. This, he concluded, must be the junction.
The conductor, coming back from the baggage car, gave Bob his traincheck.
"Don't have many passengers going to Atalissa," he said. "Them that wantsto get there usually go by car or boat."
The local rocked to a creaking halt and Bob, his Gladstone in hand,stepped down on the cinder platform.
The accommodation which was to take him the rest of the way to Atalissawas on the other side of the station. The engine, an antiquated littleaffair, looked abou
t like a teakettle, but the two freight cars and thepassenger car on the back end were standard size equipment.
The conductor, in faded blue overalls, looked at Bob's ticket.
"Guess you're the only passenger," he said. "Well, we might as well begoing."
"How about breakfast?" asked Bob.
"Hungry?" asked the conductor.
"Just about starved," confessed Bob.
"Well, we stop at Ainsworth about ten miles down the line. There's alittle place there where you can get a bite to eat."
There appeared to be nothing else to do so Bob climbed up the steps ofthe old wooden coach and put his Gladstone in the first seat at the rear.The engineer whistled a wheezy "high ball" and the conductor swung up onthe back end as the accommodation started its daily run for the seacoast.
The air in the coach was stuffy and Bob found it pleasanter on the rearplatform, watching the track wind away in the distance and they swungaround curves and chugged their way up steep grades. It seemed incrediblethat in such a peaceful appearing country there must be located theheadquarters for a relentless band of smugglers.
The second stop of the accommodation that morning was at Ainsworth and asthe train slowed down for the station, the conductor came back and spoketo Bob.
"We'll be here about fifteen minutes. That ought to give you time enoughto get something to eat. Restaurant's right back of the station."
Bob estimated that Ainsworth must be a village of some two hundred soulsand he was dubious about the quality of the food which he would obtain,but when he stepped inside the eating house he was agreeably surprised bythe cleanliness and an elderly woman took his order with pleasingpromptness.
Bob took a cold cereal, and ate it with relish while eggs and baconsputtered on a stove in the kitchen. When they were ready he orderedcoffee and several doughnuts.
"Don't need to hurry too much, they won't go away without you," reassuredthe woman who waited on him.
But Bob finished in ample time to enjoy a leisurely walk back to thetrain. When he reentered the day coach he was surprised to find anotheroccupant, a large, heavy-boned man with a faded mustache and thinninghair. What surprised Bob even more was to see a badge on the other's vestand he strolled forward through the car. His eyes opened a little widerwhen he saw that the badge worn by the other said, "Sheriff."
The water cooler was a convenient place to stop and Bob, studying theother man in leisure, drank two cups of water.
Suddenly the sheriff spoke.
"Now that you've about sized me up, what's on your mind, Bud?"
Bob almost fell over backwards for he had tried to make his observationof the other man altogether casual.
"Nothing," he managed to reply, but the word failed to carry conviction.
"Not trying to dodge the law, are you?" asked the sheriff, and Bobnoticed that a perfectly capable looking gun was holstered under theother's right shoulder.
"No," said Bob.
"Then why are you carrying a gun?"
Bob started, almost guiltily, and his face flushed.
"That," he retorted, "is none of your business."
After the words were out he could almost have bitten his tongue in twofor if the sheriff pressed him for an answer, he would be forced toreveal his identity and such things as local sheriffs being involved incrime was not altogether unknown.
"I'm making it my business right now," snapped the older man and beforeBob could move, a gun appeared in the other's hands.
"Put up your hands and turn around. Do it slowly and you won't be hurt,but if you make one false move, I'll let you have it."
Chapter XXVII SHERIFF McCURDY TALKS *
There was nothing else for Bob to do and with his hands raised high abovehis head, he turned slowly and faced the water cooler. He could imaginehow Tully Ross would have chuckled if he could have seen his predicamentnow.
Firm hands whisked the gun out of the shoulder holster and Bob heard thesheriff step back.
"Turn around slowly now, but keep your hands up."
Bob obeyed the command and the sheriff waved him toward a seat on theopposite side of the car.
"Now that you've got my gun, you'd better let me explain," said Bob.
"You can do your explaining in jail," retorted the sheriff. "No big-towngunman is going to run another trick on me."
The last words were said with grim determination and Bob saw thesheriff's jaw muscles tighten.
"Turn up the lapel of my coat and you'll find that you're making amistake," pressed Bob. "I'm an agent of the bureau of investigation ofthe United States Department of Justice."
"You're just a kid," scoffed the older officer.
"Turn up the lapel of my coat and see what's there. This thing has gonefar enough," insisted Bob.
There was something in Bob's voice which forced the sheriff to act and hereached over cautiously and turned up the lapel of Bob's coat. The smallbadge which was revealed there brought an instant change in his attitudeand he lowered the gun which he held in his hands.
"Looks like I've made a bad mistake," he said. "I'm sorry, but after whatI've been through you can't blame me."
The sheriff, who introduced himself as Abel McCurdy, handed the gun backto Bob and the federal agent, after breaking open the gun and looking atthe chambers, returned it to his shoulder holster.
"What's happened?" asked Bob, for he recalled that only a minute earlierthe sheriff hinted at some trick of which he had been the victim.
"Oh, it's kind of a crazy story and I don't suppose it would interest afederal man," replied the older officer.
"I'm interested in anything that's going on around here," said Bob.
"Then you may run right smack into trouble," cautioned the other, and heshook his head a little sadly. "That's what was the matter with me--toointerested in other people's business."
"Tell me what happened," pressed Bob, for he had a feeling that in someway or another the sheriff might be connected with the smugglers who wereknown to be operating around Atalissa.
"There's been some strange things going on along the coast," began thesheriff, "and I've been trying to figure them out, but I didn't have muchluck until last night when I was south of Atalissa. A big touring carcame roaring along the road and I stopped it. Car was going too fast."
"What happened?" asked Bob.
"Too much," admitted the sheriff. "Fellow driving got out, but when hedid he had a machine gun in his hands and I wasn't any match for thateven though I'm a pretty good shot with a revolver. He handcuffed me withmy own handcuffs and made me get into the back seat and then drove offlike mad. After a while he stopped and blindfolded me, and then went onfor a time."
"What did he look like?" asked Bob.
"Well, he was kind of short and heavy, I'd say." The sheriff went on withhis description of the man who had kidnaped him and before he was throughBob was convinced that the other was Joe Hamsa.
Chapter XXVIII THEORIES *
Bob felt it was time to reveal his real mission to the seacoast and inclear, brief words he told the sheriff why he had come down fromWashington and what had gone on since he had started south.
"You mean to say they had the nerve to kidnap your uncle, a federalagent?" asked the sheriff.
"I'm sure they have him and the only thing we know is that the start awayfrom Jacksonville was made by boat."
The sheriff nodded.
"That would be a good way. Why, I can think of half a hundred good placesto hide a man along this section of the coast." Then the sheriff went onto explain that shortly before dawn he had been dumped unceremoniouslyout of the sedan after being released from the handcuffs.
"Can you remember any stops?" asked Bob.
"Only one. We must have been very close to the ocean, for I was sure Icould hear the sound of the surf."
"A
ny idea in what direction you traveled?"
"Nothing that would help much. I was about two miles from Ainsworth whenI was dumped out, and I went in there and got another gun and thendecided to take the train to Atalissa for I was only about a mile fromthere when I was kidnaped last night."
"Did you hear anything unusual when you stopped where you thought youcould hear the surf?" pressed on Bob.
Sheriff McCurdy was silent for a time.
"Yes, there was one thing--a humming that was faint and then increased instrength and finally died away."
"It might have been a 'plane," suggested Bob.
"Why, I hadn't thought of that. Sure, that's just what it sounded like."
"The driver of the car got out and came back a little after."
"After the humming had died away?"
"That's right," agreed the sheriff.
Bob was elated at this news. He felt that even before his arrival atAtalissa he had stumbled upon a real clue and he hoped upon a worthy aidin the doughty southern sheriff.
"Then he went on, later dumping you out of the car?" pressed Bob.
The sheriff agreed.
"He was none too gentle in dumping me out," complained the sheriff. "I'djust like to get my hands on him for a few minutes. Believe me, I'd makehis bones ache."
There was no question about the irritation or the sincerity of theofficer and Bob couldn't help but suppress a chuckle, for he believed thesheriff perfectly capable of manhandling Joe Hamsa.