Agent Nine and the Jewel Mystery: A Story of Thrilling Exploits of the G Men

by Graham M. Dean

  Bob pressed his own face against the glass and peered along the platform.Up ahead a brightly illuminated sign marked the telegraph office, and Bobsaw the man hurry inside, but the distance was too great for him to seethe other's face. In less than a minute the man reappeared, but he didnot come back along the train.

  Then the Limited plunged southward again, beating its way into the teethof the storm, and Bob wondered if Joe Hamsa could have been the man onthe platform.

  Bob finished his meal and after paying his bill went back into car 43 tosee how Tully was getting along. He found him awake and ready forsomething to eat.

  "Soup would taste good," nodded Tully when Bob suggested it and the youngfederal agent returned to the diner at once. When he re-entered the carhe saw Joe Hamsa seated at the far end of the diner and he was sure thathe had not passed Hamsa either going or coming from car 43. That meantthat Hamsa had been up ahead some place.

  Bob thought the diamond salesman made a deliberate effort to avoid hiseyes by staring intently through the storm-bathed windows of the car. Thesoup was ready and Bob followed a waiter who carried it back to thePullman.

  The train was traveling at a wild pace now and Bob almost lost hisbalance as he walked between the cars. As the anger of the stormdeepened, he became more convinced than before that Joe Hamsa was the manhe had seen on the station platform and there was something about thewildness of the night and Tully's sudden illness that caused graveapprehension in Bob's mind.

  Chapter VIII TULLY'S PAPERS VANISH *

  When Bob returned to the Pullman, Tully was obviously much refreshed fromhis deep sleep and he ate the soup with real relish. After he was throughand the waiter had gone, Tully spoke to him.

  "I'll appreciate it if you'll give me a hand down to the berth," he said."My legs are still a little shaky, but I guess I'm all right otherwise. Agood night's sleep will put me back to normal."

  Bob supported Tully and together they walked down to the berth which hadbeen made up. Joe Hamsa was not in the car.

  "I still can't figure out what happened to me," said Tully, shaking hishead.

  "You are sure I wasn't struck over the head?" he looked at Bob so sharplythat Bob was inclined to laugh.

  "Don't accuse me of doing a thing like that," he retorted, but there wasno anger in his words.

  "But I tell you it felt like something struck my face. Then there was ablanket of darkness that settled over me and I couldn't move or say aword. It was a mighty helpless sort of feeling."

  Bob agreed that there had been nothing pleasant about the experience andhe helped Tully in getting undressed. Tully drew the letter with itsconfidential report on the smuggling ring out of an inner pocket.

  "This goes under my pillow," he said.

  "I thought it was kind of foolish for you to read it while Hamsa was inthe smoking compartment with you," said Bob, and a flicker of angerglowed in Tully's eyes.

  "Hamsa's all right," he replied. "You take care of your copy and I'lltake care of mine."

  With that Tully pulled out the flap of the envelope and drew forth theclosely typewritten pages which comprised the report.

  Bob saw a sudden, startled change in Tully's face, and he leaned closer.

  "Bob," whispered the other. "Look at these pages. Am I seeing things?"

  Bob picked up the handful of data and scanned the typewritten words. Evenbefore he read the printing on the page he knew that something was wrongfor the paper was thicker than that upon which his report had beenwritten.

  But the real shock was when he read the first page. It was a recipe formaking dill pickles.

  "It's a pickle recipe," gasped Bob.

  Tully nodded grimly.

  "Look at the rest of them!"

  Bob skimmed through the pages, bending down to examine each one closely.Instead of the confidential data the pages were mimeographed recipes andBob and Tully stared at each other in amazement.

  "My report's been stolen!"

  It was Tully speaking and he sounded like a stricken man. Then he graspedBob's shoulders.

  "This isn't a trick you're playing on me?" he demanded.

  "Don't be silly," said Bob firmly. "That isn't my idea of a joke. We'vegot to get busy now."

  Bob pressed the buzzer for the porter, who put in an almost immediateappearance.

  "Get the Pullman conductor here at once," he commanded.

  "Sorry, boss, but he's eating supper up ahead."

  "Get him," retorted Bob, and the manner in which he gave the order sentthe porter scurrying up the aisle.

  "How could this have happened?" asked Tully, and from the heaviness ofhis voice Bob knew that his companion had not fully thrown off theeffects of the attack which had overcome him that afternoon.

  "The secret of this is somewhere on the Limited," replied Bob. "Onlythree people, in addition to myself, were in the compartment with you.One was the Pullman conductor, the other was Hamsa, and the third was theporter. I think we can rule out the porter for he was in there only onceor twice. There's just a chance the conductor might have come back inwhile I was in the diner."

  "What motive would he have in taking such a report?" Tully wanted to knowand Bob confessed that there apparently was none.

  The conductor, evidently irritated at being called from his dinner,entered the car and hurried down to the section.

  "What's the matter?" he asked crisply.

  Bob did not like the tone of his voice and he drew forth the little badgewhich identified him. The conductor's eyes widened in astonishment andthere was an instant change in his attitude. He looked toward Tullysignificantly.

  "Prisoner?" he asked.

  "No. He's a federal agent like myself. Sometime after he was strickenthis afternoon an envelope containing valuable information was taken fromhim and worthless papers substituted."

  "You're not suspecting me of this, are you?" asked the conductor andthere was such pathetic anxiety in his voice that Bob felt that the manwas innocent of any wrong doing.

  "I'm not suspecting or accusing anyone at present," replied Bob. "Isimply want to know if you saw anything unusual going on in this car atany time while I was in the diner and while my companion was asleep onthe couch in the compartment ahead."

  The conductor shook his head.

  "I was through the car twice," he said, "and the only one here was theman who had lower nine. The first time he was in his seat and the secondtime he was near the rear vestibule. He had on a slicker and had theupper part of the door open."

  "When was that?" The question shot eagerly from Bob's lips.

  "Just before our last stop at Atkinson where we took on coal and water,"replied the conductor. "I didn't notice him again until up in the diner afew minutes ago."

  "The vestibule door was opened by someone while we were in Atkinson," putin the porter.

  "Then lower nine's passenger must have taken a walk. Fine night for athing like that," said the conductor. "Come to think of it, I did see hisslicker on another chair in the diner."

  There was no question now but that Joe Hamsa had been the man Bob hadseen on the station platform, and the suspicious feeling Bob had heldtoward him from the beginning was strengthened.

  "I'm going forward to talk with Hamsa," he told Tully, and he startedahead through the train as fast as he could walk.

  When he reached the diner the steward was turning down the lights.

  "I'm looking for a dark, heavy-set fellow who was wearing a blackslicker," said Bob. "He belongs in car 43."

  "He left not more than two or three minutes ago," replied the steward."You should have met him, for he started back into the Pullmans."

  Bob shook his head.

  "I just came from car 43 and he couldn't have passed me."

  "He might have turned around and gone up into the coaches," said thesteward. "I've been busy in the kitchen checking with the chef. You mightlook up ahead."

  Bo
b went up into the day coaches and found the train conductor in theforward car. There were three day coaches on the train and the conductorwas busy making out his reports.

  The young federal agent wasted no time in identifying himself.

  "There's a man aboard I want to question," he explained. "He was in thediner a few minutes ago and after finishing his meal started back for thePullmans. He belongs in lower nine of car 43, but I'm sure he didn'treach there. Get your brakeman out and search this train."

  The small gold badge Bob displayed worked magic with the trainman and hesummoned his brakeman. Bob gave them a brief description of Hamsa andthey started back through the train.

  Every vestibule and every compartment was checked as the three workedmethodically. They even looked into the kitchen on the dining car whilethe chef, a jolly negro, grinned at them.

  Back in car 43 they found the Pullman conductor standing watch besideTully.

  "There's no sign of Hamsa up ahead," said Bob. "He didn't come this way?"

  "No one's been through this car," replied the Pullman official firmly.

  Bob shook his head.

  "A man can't vanish on a train and we've been running too fast for him tojump off. That would have been sheer suicide."

  There were two more Pullmans and an observation lounge car behind car 43and with the trainmen at his heels, Bob resumed the search.

  The next two cars were practically deserted and even in the observationlounge there were only five passengers in addition to the porter. Theylooked up with evident interest at the wholesale invasion of the trainmenand the grim intentness of the expression on Bob's face.

  But the observation car failed to yield any sign of Hamsa and Bob steppedout on the rain-lashed platform. The Limited whistled sharply and secondslater rumbled through a small village. Then the train was rushing throughthe desolate night once more.

  The young federal agent turned and re-entered the car and the feeling ofunrest which had gripped him ever since meeting Joe Hamsa deepened. Therewas something about the diamond salesman that sent shivers up and downBob's spine.

  "That fellow's got to be on the train some place for we haven't evenslowed up since we left Atkinson," said the train conductor. "We'd betterlook again."

  They started forward, once more examining every compartment aboard thetrain, and this time they even went into the baggage car, but thebaggageman insisted that no one had been through his car.

  Back in the first day coach they stopped to take council.

  "I'm afraid he's fallen off the train in some manner," said the trainconductor. "We're stopping in ten minutes at a junction and I'll send awire back to division headquarters. They'll warn all trains over the roadto watch for him."

  Bob, however, doubted that Hamsa had fallen from the train for he feltthat the diamond salesman was far too clever and cautious to be thevictim of such an accident.

  Chapter IX BOB GETS A WARNING *

  The young federal agent returned to car 43 and related in detail to Tullythe result of the search of the train.

  "It doesn't seem possible that Hamsa could be on the train, yet I am surethat he did not fall off," concluded Bob.

  "I've the same feeling," said Tully. "You're sure you didn't miss anyplace?"

  "We looked in every closet and compartment aboard the Limited," insistedBob. "We'd have found even a fly if one had been aboard."

  Tully was visibly downcast for he felt the loss of his confidentialinstructions keenly.

  "Hamsa is the only one who could have taken them," he said, half tohimself.

  Bob felt like telling Tully that he should have known better than to haveopened and read them in the presence of anyone else, but he checked theimpulse, and was glad that he had had the foresight to protect his ownpapers by placing them in his Gladstone bag.

  The train slowed to a stop at a lonely junction and Bob went to thevestibule where the porter opened the upper half of the door for him.

  The federal agent, peering ahead through the rain, saw the trainconductor make a dash for the station where a night operator was on duty.The conductor ran back to the train just before the engineer "whistledin" the flagman and Bob knew that already a message was humming over thewires telling of the disappearance of Joe Hamsa, the diamond salesman.

  The porter closed the upper half of the door and Bob returned to thePullman. The lights had been turned low and he looked in at Tully, whowas dozing.

  Bob was too wide awake to think of sleep just then, and he went ahead tothe smoking compartment, where the porter had left an evening paper.

  Bob picked up the paper and scanned the headlines on the first page, butthere was nothing recorded in the news there that drew his attention andhe turned to the sports page, where football dope stories could be foundplentifully, for Bob liked nothing better in the sports world than a goodfootball game.

  The train conductor came in and sat down.

  "It's a bad night," he said, looking at the curtain of rain which sweptthe windows. "We'll be late getting into Jacksonville. A message at thejunction back there gave us a lot of slow orders where the track is goingbad ahead of us."

  "The rain must be worse farther south," said Bob.

  "It's nearly a cloudburst in some places. I wouldn't be surprised if wefind a bridge washed out and get hung up for hours."

  The conductor was silent for a minute. Then he added, "I can't figure outwhere that fellow in lower nine went. Seems impossible that he could havefallen off the train, yet he isn't here."

  "I'm just as puzzled as you are," admitted Bob, "but I have a feelingthat no harm has come to him. I sized him up as a fellow pretty well ableto take care of himself."

  "I don't recall seeing him," said the train conductor, "for the Pullmanconductor handles this end of the Limited. Well, I've more reports to getready."

  He got to his feet and started for the door. The Limited lurched heavilyand the conductor was thrown back against Bob.

  "There we go!" he cried. "The track's gone out from under us."

  The car was weaving and lurching as the wheels screamed in the grip ofpowerful air brakes, but the rhythmic clack of the trucks told them theywere still on the rails.

  The conductor hoisted himself to his feet and Bob followed him in a dashfor the vestibule.

  "That blamed engineer almost shook us to pieces," groaned the conductoras he threw open the top half of the vestibule door and peered out.

  Bob, looking over his shoulder, could see a red glare that penetratedeven the brilliance of the locomotive's headlight.

  "Someone's swinging a fuse against us," said the conductor, buttoning uphis slicker. "I'm going ahead."

  Bob ran back into the Pullman and got his own coat. Tully, who was awakenow, wanted to know what it was all about.

  "An emergency stop of some kind," said Bob. "I'll be back soon."

  By the time he was back in the vestibule the Limited was grinding to astop and Bob swung down behind the conductor, the two running aheadalongside the train as rapidly as they could in the darkness.

  The Southern had been flagged at a lonely way station where it seldom ifever made a stop, and the engineer, who was leaning from his cab, bawledlustily at them.

  "Find out what that hick agent means by flagging us down," he shouted."We've got to get rolling again. We're 23 minutes late."

  The agent, the red fuse still in his hands, came toward them and Bobcaught a glimpse of a telegram in one hand.

  "What's the idea of flagging us down?" demanded the conductor. "I'm goingto report you if you haven't a mighty good reason."

  The agent's retort was sharp.

  "Oh, quit your howling. I waved a fuse at you because I had orders fromthe super to stop this train and deliver a message to one of yourpassengers."

  "What's that?" bellowed the conductor. "You had the nerve to stop theSouthern just to deliver a telegram?"

  The agent shrug
ged. "You heard me. Now I've got to find this passengerand deliver the message."

  "Give it to me. I'll deliver it." The conductor reached for the telegram,but the agent backed away.

  "Oh, no you don't. I'm going to deliver this in person and get thesignature of the man I deliver it to."

  "Hurry up there!" It was the engineer, shouting at them above the noiseof the storm and the air pumps on the locomotive.

  "Who's the telegram for?" asked the conductor.

  "Bob Houston in lower five, car 43," replied the agent. "Let's getgoing."

  "That's all right, I'll sign for the telegram," said Bob. "My name isHouston and I'm in lower five, car 43."

  The agent looked suspiciously at him as though he had not expected anyoneas youthful looking as Bob.

  "I've got instructions to see a certain badge before I turn over thismessage," he said.

  Bob reached into his inner coat pocket, drew forth his billfold, andproduced the badge.

  "That's right," nodded the agent. "Sign this slip."

  He produced a pencil and Bob, writing in the light from the headlight,signed his name.

  "Thanks," said the agent. Then he turned to the conductor. "All right.Now you can tell that hoghead up there to pick up his wheels and get thestring of varnished gondolas out of here. I want to go to sleep."