Chapter IV: Part 4

"You understand that this company is comparatively small when you think of the one used in the production of the picture?" he reminded them. "It will be necessary for you to take several parts, but all of them will be minor roles since I understand neither of you have had any experience in broadcasting."

The girls nodded their understanding, and the director plunged on.

"We are going to give only the high spots of the film story over the air, but in addition we are going to weave in some of the actual drama and the thrills attached to the shooting of the picture--some of the behind-the-scenes incidents. Understand?"

Again they nodded.

"We have not been able to get all of this material that we desired and Mr. Newsom has informed me that you have a fair ability at writing."

This was aimed at Janet and she replied promptly.

"I enjoy writing," she said, "but the question of ability hasn't been very well determined yet."

"But you sold a script for film purposes only recently," pressed the director.

"Yes, that's true, but I think it was more luck than anything else."

"Be that as it may, I'd like you to write some of the intimate and unusual things that go on in the production of such a picture. Get in all of the thrilling material possible. Get me?"

"I think so," replied Janet, recalling the vivid hours that had marked the production work on "Kings of the Air" when the company was out in the desert and she had been kidnaped.

"Then take the rest of the day off and try to get some of the material into my hands tomorrow morning. We'll have it whipped into shape by the studio continuity writers, for this program goes on the air day after tomorrow."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Adolphi," promised Janet, and the director hurried away to give further instructions to others in the company.

Helen looked at Janet admiringly.

"Well, you certainly get yourself into all kinds of work," she smiled. "Now you'll have to go back to the hotel room and pound away on a rented typewriter while I go down and see a show in the Music Hall."

"Oh, don't do that," begged Janet, who was anxious to see the interior of the world's largest theater. "Wait another day until I can go with you. There'll be plenty for you to see in New York beside the Music Hall."

"All right," agreed Helen. "We'll plan on that for tomorrow afternoon."

As they left the studio they bumped into a slender, dark-haired girl who was hurrying in.

"Clumsy fools," Janet heard the other girl murmur as she went on and Janet's face flushed for it had been as much the other's fault as their own.

They dropped down to the street level in the elevator and Janet started back for the hotel while Helen walked toward Fifth avenue to enjoy a window shopping tour along the exclusive shops that had made the avenue famous throughout the world.

Chapter Nineteen

A MANUSCRIPT VANISHES

Janet went directly to their hotel and asked at the desk about renting a typewriter. Arrangements were made to have one delivered at her room within half an hour and she went to change into an older dress, something that wouldn't be hurt by wrinkles that were bound to come as she labored over the typewriter.

The machine was delivered promptly and Janet used a supply of the hotel stationary for her writing material. At first the idea of setting down intimate little things about the filming of the picture had appeared easy, but now that the task was before her, the words and ideas did not come freely.

Janet wondered if she dared to record the story of the sabotage when the company was on desert location. She could imagine that it would make grand material for broadcasting purposes and so she set resolutely about the task. The worst that could happen would be for Mr. Adolphi to reject it entirely. Janet finally got started and once under way the flow of words came smoothly and her fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard.

She worked steadily for more than an hour, got up, stretched, walked around the room and returned to the writing. She wasn't attempting to make it a complete story, just giving the sequences as they had happened during the filming of "Kings of the Air" and the mysterious events which had taken place out on the desert. It was natural that Janet should hint that the plotting was the work of another concern for it had been common talk in their own company later that Premier Films, also producing an air story, had attempted to keep their own film from a successful conclusion. But it had only been talk for there was no definite proof.

Helen came hurrying in just as Janet finished her work.

"How is it going?" she asked.

"All through," replied her companion. "Have a good time?"

"Grand. I never knew there could be so many beautiful shops in such a small area. Come on now. I want to ride a subway."

"I'll have to change clothes," said Janet.

"Never mind changing for a subway trip. We'll go down to the Battery. I inquired the way at the desk."

Janet slipped on a light brown coat and followed Helen down and across to the Times Square subway station where they found themselves engulfed in the crowd and the noise. Helen dropped two nickels in the turnstile and they went through the gate, Helen still in the lead and striding along as though she were the veteran of many a ride in the subway instead of a rank beginner.

A train roared out of the darkness of the tube and Janet saw a sign, "South Ferry," on the windows.

"This is our train," cried Helen, shoving her companion ahead of her and into one of the seats. Other passengers piled in, the doors clanged and they were roaring through the tunnel far under the street level. Their train was an express and occasionally they shot past a slower local. The air was close with an odor that is peculiar to a subway, but Janet enjoyed the ride, watching the crowd in the car. It was evident that most of them were accustomed to using the subway several times a day and they were either visiting or reading evening papers, which they had folded so they would take up the least possible room.

At the South Ferry station they walked up to the street levels and entered Battery park. Janet paused a moment, struck by the beauty of the harbor in the late afternoon. Beyond the Battery was the Statue of Liberty and even further the tidewater flats of Jersey.

Several freighters, which had cleared their docks a few minutes before, were going down the harbor and Janet and Helen, standing along the Battery wondered for what distant port they might be bound.

They walked past the Aquarium. On another afternoon they would come back and spend several hours going through that fascinating building.

"I'm tired," confessed Janet. "Let's get back to the hotel now, clean up, and have dinner. Perhaps we'll go to a show after that."

Helen readily agreed to the suggestion and they returned to the South Ferry station where they caught an uptown express that took them to Times Square at a dizzy pace.

When they emerged from the tube, the shadows were lengthening in the heart of the city. Sidewalks were crowded with hundreds of men and women on their way home after a day's work in the city. They paused for several minutes to watch the teeming mass of humanity and then turned and entered their hotel.

Janet was the first to step into their rooms and the instant she passed the threshold a feeling of foreboding gripped her and she stopped so suddenly that Helen bumped into her.

"What's the matter?" asked Helen, looking up quickly.

Janet looked a little sheepish. "I don't know. For some reason I thought there was something wrong in here."

"Want me to scream?" smiled Helen. "I can do a good job of that and I guarantee to get someone here in less than a minute with one scream."

In spite of the banter Janet was far from reassured for a feeling of unrest had settled down upon her. She snapped on the lights in the room and looked around.

Apparently nothing had been disturbed and Helen walked past her and went on into her own room. A puff of wind stirred the curtains at the half-opened window and Janet walked over and looked out. There was no fire escape nearby and it would have been impossible for anyone to have gained access to their room in that manner. But then, she asked herself, why would anyone want to enter their room. They carried no personal jewelry of any value and the money they had left in the room was of such a small amount that it would not make robbery worth while.

In the next room Helen was humming to herself as she undressed and prepared to take a shower. Janet dropped down on the bed to rest a moment. It had been a hectic day and she was tired. Her eyes dropped and she fell into a deep sleep.

Helen finished her shower, looked in at Janet, then returned to her own room, where she partially dressed, put on a dressing gown, and sat down to write a letter home chronicling the events of her first day in New York.

Janet awoke as suddenly as she had fallen asleep. Helen had turned out the light in her room and it was quite dark now, the only light coming through the half-opened door that led to the bathroom and on to Helen's room.

Janet turned on the light over the desk where she had been writing and glanced down at the manuscript she had been working on. She turned and called sharply to Helen.

"Did you pick up the manuscript I finished this afternoon?" she asked.

"Haven't seen it since we left for the Battery," replied Helen. "The last I knew it was right beside your typewriter. Maybe you're too sleepy to see it."

"I'm not that sleepy," retorted Janet.

Perhaps she had put it on the dresser and she turned toward that article of furniture but there was no sign of the manuscript there. She pulled open the drawers, but the manuscript was not there and Helen joined her in the hunt.

"Sure you haven't taken it to your room and mislaid it?" asked Janet, a deep pucker of worry lining her forehead.

"We'll look to make sure," said Helen and they hastened to her room, but the search there was just as fruitless as the one in Janet's room. Janet even looked in the closets, but there was no encouragement there. In a last hope, she went through the wastepaper basket, but she was doomed to disappointment and turned to Helen, her voice shaking with emotion.

"There's no doubt about it now," she declared. "Someone entered our rooms while we were away and stole the manuscript I had been working on!"

Chapter Twenty

THE MYSTERY DEEPENS

The girls stared helplessly at each other and Helen was finally the first to speak.

"But Janet, that can't be possible. It must be here somewhere."

Janet shook her head firmly. "It isn't here and we both know it. My premonition when we entered the room was right. Something is decidedly wrong."

"But what can we do about it?" asked Helen.

"I'm going to call the clerk," said Janet, picking up the telephone. She explained briefly what had happened. "The assistant manager is here. He's coming up in five minutes," she said when she replaced the instrument on the stand.

Helen rushed back to her own room to finish dressing and was fully clothed when the assistant manager arrived. He made a careful examination of the door and the lock and then went all over the rooms with the girls, but as Janet had felt convinced, there was no further trace of the missing papers.

"I regret this deeply," said the hotel official, "and can only promise that every effort will be made to see that the papers are returned if they are still in the building." He excused himself to question the housekeeper about any maid who might have been working in the room while the girls were away.

In less than five minutes he returned, a maid following close behind him.

"I think the mystery is solved," he explained. "The maid says she came in to put fresh towels in the bathroom and someone knocked at the door. She answered and a man from the World Broadcasting Company said he had come to get your manuscript. He came right on in and picked up the papers beside the typewriter. Of course she should not have admitted him, but he appeared to know just what he wanted."

"What did he look like?" Janet asked the maid.

"Well, I didn't pay particular attention, but he was small and I guess you would call him dark. He had on a hat and it was pulled down over his forehead. He took the papers and went on out. Said they'd be waiting for you at the broadcasting office tomorrow."

"I believe this solves the mystery," said the assistant manager.

"I hope so," agreed Janet. "We're sorry to have caused you so much trouble."

When the hotel official and the maid had taken their departure, Helen turned to her companion.

"I didn't know the radio people were in such a hurry for the material you were working on," she said.

"Neither did I," replied Janet, "but I guess it is all right. Let's have dinner now and then perhaps a show. I feel tremendously relieved about the manuscript."

They added a dab of powder and a touch of rouge to their faces and went downstairs. Further down the block they had noticed an attractive Old English Inn and they walked there where they enjoyed a leisurely dinner.

"What shall we do now?" asked Helen as she finished the dish of ice cream which was their dessert.

"Shall we go back to Radio City and see the Music Hall?" asked Janet.

"I'd like nothing better. We're on our way."

They strolled along at a leisurely pace, turned into Sixth Avenue and headed north toward the great mass of gray limestone which was Radio City. Overhead the trains rumbled along the elevated, but Janet and Helen had eyes only for Radio City.

Ahead of them opened the doors of the world's largest theater and with their hearts beating faster than usual they purchased their tickets and walked into the grand foyer, the most majestic, breath-taking enclosure either of them had ever been in. Their feet sank into the heavy pile of the great carpet and their eyes feasted on the beauty of the towering bronze doors which led into the theater itself.

Then they went on into the Music Hall, which with its sixty-two hundred seats, was the largest of the world's modern theaters. A great expanse of space greeted their eyes, the theater sloping gently forward to the huge stage. An orchestra, in full dress, was rising from the depths of its pit as though lifted by the hand of some unseen giant. The orchestra broke into a full swell of music and Janet and Helen, sinking into deep, comfortable seats, were enraptured. Above them hidden lights changed the color effect of the ceiling continuously. Then the overture was over and the curtains of the stage parted and for half an hour they enjoyed a musical entertainment based on Coney Island, the famed fun center of the city. After that came the feature picture, and they enjoyed every moment of the nearly three hours of entertainment.

When it was over they walked out slowly, for the Music Hall was one great part of Radio City. Tomorrow, across the street and up on the twenty-seventh floor, they would be in another but very vital part of Radio City, in the broadcasting studios of the World Broadcasting Company. As they walked down Sixth Avenue they glanced aloft and far up in the building a blaze of light shone from windows. Some company was busy up there tonight, providing thousands of radio fans with drama or music for their entertainment and they thrilled at the thought that within a very short time, they, too, would be a part of the radio world.

Back in their rooms that night Janet glanced at the place beside the typewriter where the manuscript had disappeared. She would have liked to have telephoned Curt Newsom and told the lanky cowboy about the incident but he had not mentioned where he was staying. She thought of telephoning Mr. Adolphi, their radio director, but dismissed that for she felt that he might think her foolish. Undoubtedly he had sent for the manuscript.

They were up early the next morning, refreshed after a night of sound sleep. A quick shower was followed by a rapid but thorough toilet and they were ready for what they might have in store for them. They had breakfast in the grill room which opened off the main lobby of their hotel and then started for Radio City.

There was a touch of fall in the air and they walked briskly, pushing through other hurrying throngs of men and women who were on their way to work.

The elevator shot them up to the twenty-seventh floor in a dizzy, breathless rush and they stepped out into the reception room. A page took them to studio K and there were only two others there when they entered--Ben Adolphi, their director, and Curt Newsom. The cowboy star looked a little pale.

"Sick?" asked Janet.

Curt shook his head. "Not exactly, but I didn't sleep very well last night. Too much noise here in the city. I'm going to move. My hotel's right on Times Square."

"Why, we're staying there too," said Helen. "Our hotel is the Dorchester. We slept fine."

"I'm staying there," replied Curt, "but I don't see how you slept. I heard fire engines and police patrols and street cars and newsboys all night. I might as well have been down in the subway trying to sleep on an express train."

The radio director looked at Janet.

"Manuscript ready?" he asked.

Janet stared at him and he repeated the question.

"Haven't you got it?" she asked.

"Certainly not," he snapped, evidently a little provoked at what he considered dull wits.

"But the maid at the hotel said someone from the studio called yesterday afternoon for it. It's gone!"

"Certainly I didn't send for it," he retorted. "Evidently it was some one's idea of a practical joke."

"I don't think it was much of a joke," said Curt quietly. "If the manuscript Janet was working on has disappeared, it vanished because someone was afraid of what she might write."

Chapter Twenty-one

INSINUATIONS

At the cool words of the cowboy star, the radio director whirled to face him.

"Just what do you mean by that," he demanded, his face flushing.

"I mean just this," retorted Curt. "There was a very real attempt made on the coast to stop the filming of 'Kings of the Air' and it begins to look like that attempt is being carried on even in New York in an effort to stop the promotion of the picture. All I've got to say is that someone had better be careful."

"Are you insinuating anything?" demanded the radio director.

"I'm not insinuating; I'm just saying," said the cowboy star firmly.

The director turned back to Janet.

"You're sure the manuscript was stolen?"

"It was unless someone in the studio here has it," she replied.

"I'll make inquiries," he promised, "but I am sure no one in the studio would have sent for it."

Mr. Adolphi left studio K and Janet, Helen and Curt Newsom were alone.

"You're not kidding about the manuscript being missing?" Curt asked.

"No, Curt, I'm terribly serious. We went out for a time yesterday afternoon. While we were gone the maid came in to leave clean towels and while she was in the room a man came in. He said he was from the studio here and had come for the manuscript. Naturally the girl didn't object and he walked out with the papers."

"What did you have in the story?"

"Oh, a lot about the final days in the desert. How the attempts were made to stop the picture, the bombing from the sky and my own kidnaping."

"Did you hint that some other company was responsible for this?" The question was snapped at Janet.

"Come to think of it, I did, but of course I didn't mention any company by name."

Curt scratched his head in frank worry.

"You know," he confessed, "this thing has got me puzzled. There is some powerful agency at work to stop the picture Helen's father made and I believe its influence must extend right here into this studio. You girls be sure and watch your step and especially at night."

"But nothing will happen to us," protested Helen.

"No, I don't suppose there will, but you keep on the alert just the same," Curt warned them.

Mr. Adolphi returned and shook his head in response to Janet's inquiring gaze.

"I've checked everyone in the studio," he said, "and no one knows anything about it. Can you do the manuscript over?"

"Probably," assented Janet, "but I'd prefer not to under the circumstances."

The director did not insist and Janet thought perhaps he even seemed a little relieved.

Other members of the company arrived. Several of them had been in the film company on the coast but most of them were from the regular stock company which the studio maintained for its dramatic needs. Most of them were pleasant enough. Only one of them turned Janet against her and that was the small, dark-haired actress who had bumped into her the day before and called her a "clumsy fool." That was Rachel Nesbit and Janet thought her eyes a trifle too close together and her mouth too hard. It looked as though it was difficult for Rachel to look pleasant and there was a sulky twist to her lips.

Janet soon found that Rachel was the pampered member of the studio's stock company. She was considered an actress of ability and she arrived late and left early during rehearsals. Her one redeeming grace was that she came through when she was before a microphone. Janet also learned that Rachel was writing in addition to her acting and that she had had several of her skits produced on the air.

As soon as the company was assembled, Director Adolphi plunged into the task of rehearsing. Sound men brought in the necessary paraphernalia and through the hours of the morning they went over the first scene which was to be presented in their radio show. The program was to be unusual, running half an hour for five consecutive nights, each of them increasing the tempo and mystery of the action. Janet, reading the script, could feel the thing getting into her blood and she was anxious for the hour to come when they would actually go on the air.

She had no fear of the microphone, now, for that had vanished while she was working for Billy Fenstow in the westerns with Curt Newsom and Helen.

The trio had lunch together that noon, and returned immediately to the studio, where rehearsals continued into the afternoon and at the close of the day the director rather grudgingly conceded that the company had made excellent progress.

"Be here tomorrow sharply at nine," he cautioned as he dismissed them for the day.

Members of the company scattered quickly, some of them hurrying away to catch trains for their suburban homes.

Janet, Helen, and Curt Newsom walked slowly toward the elevators. The corridor down which they walked was practically deserted for none of the studios flanking it were in use. They entered the main lobby of the World Broadcasting Company office. From a loudspeaker on the reception desk came the voice of a world-famous crooner which Helen recognized instantly.

"That's a program I'd like to see," she told Curt.

"Come on, then. Now that we are members of a radio company, we ought to be able to crash the gates."

The cowboy star inquired the way to the proper studio and they turned and walked down a long corridor to Studio A, the largest and most costly of all of the broadcasting rooms of the World Company. It was like a little theater, with sloping seats and a stage upon which the performers worked before the microphone. At the back was a large orchestra, while up to the front of the stage the famous crooner was singing into a "mike."

"Why, he doesn't look at all like I thought he would," exclaimed Helen as they peered through the plate glass windows which flanked one wall of the studio. "He's much older."

"Many of us are disillusioned about our heroes and heroines," said Curt quietly. "Let's eat. I'd like a steak."

"Sounds good to me," agreed Janet, and even Helen was willing to leave the studio after another minute or two of gazing at the crooner.

They ate in a small but attractive restaurant off Sixth Avenue and after a leisurely meal Curt hurried away to keep an appointment and Janet and Helen, though tired from the long day's grind of rehearsals, strolled over to Fifth Avenue to look into shop windows. After half an hour on the avenue, they started back to their Times Square hotel, heading west on one of New York's dark and little-frequented cross streets.

They were halfway down the long, dimly lit block when Helen seized Janet's arm.

"Someone's following us!" she whispered.

Chapter Twenty-two

SHADOWED!

Despite Helen's whisper of warning, Janet never missed a stride. If anything, she quickened her pace.

"Keep up with me," she replied, "and don't look around."

From somewhere behind Janet could hear steady footfalls that quickened as they walked faster.

"Are you sure someone is following us?" asked Janet.

"Positive," replied Helen. "There was someone back of us on the avenue and he turned onto this street right after we did."

"But it must be coincidence," insisted Janet.

"But remember what Curt said about our knowing too much of the mysterious events that went on during the last days of the filming of 'Kings of the Air,'" said Helen. "He warned us to watch out."

There was no answer to that for Curt had warned them and Janet was glad that they were near the bright lights of Broadway. She felt safer now. As the noise of that great artery of traffic deepened, they slowed their pace and Janet turned and looked around.

There was no one on the street behind them. She grasped Helen's arm and both girls stopped.

"There's no one following us," smiled Janet. "It was just imagination."

"It wasn't imagination and you know it," declared Helen. "Whoever it was could easily have slipped into a doorway. Maybe he's watching us this very moment."

Janet felt a shiver of nervousness race along her spine. It was not pleasant to think of being shadowed, especially in New York where there were so many people and so few friends.

They turned into Times Square and entered the lobby of their hotel. At the desk they inquired for mail and each received letters from home.

Once up in the privacy of their rooms, they undressed, slipped into comfortable pajamas and dressing gowns, and read their letters. There was little actual news from Clarion, but just hearing from their fathers and mothers was nice.

"Dad is anxious to hear the first part of the program," said Helen as she finished her letter. "He says they'll all be over at our house grouped around the radio when we go on."

"Nervous about it?" asked Janet.

"Not particularly about the program, but there's something about the whole thing that has me uncertain. The company seems to be on edge as though there was some danger hanging over the heads of everyone."

"Perhaps talk about the trouble on the coast has reached them," suggested Janet.

"That may be. But I'm so anxious for the program to be a success. This picture has meant so much to Dad; it's the air epic that he has wanted to do for years. If it goes over in a big way, the Ace Company will renew his contract for a substantial time and give him a big increase in salary."

Shortly after that they retired and both girls slept soundly.

Next day at the studio the pressure was on again and Director Adolphi whipped them through the rehearsals at a terrific pace. Several changes in script were necessary and the director sent a page to the scenario department on the run. He returned in a few minutes with Jim Hill, the writer who had handled the continuity for the radio play.

"Listen, Jim," he snapped. "This sequence is punk. It will fall flat on the air and too much money is being spent on this program. Get some punch into this or I'll see that another writer gets the job."

Jim Hill was tall, lean and pleasant, with dark eyes that shot back sparks at the director's criticism.

"You okayed this script once," he reminded Adolphi, "but I'll see what I can do about it."

Dark, pretty Rachel Nesbit stepped forward.

"I'm pretty good at that sort of thing," she declared, flashing a winning smile at Jim Hill. "Perhaps I could help on the rewriting."

The continuity writer looked at her glumly.

"Your stuff is all right for lighter things, but this is straight action drama," he said shaking his head.

"But I can at least try," insisted Rachel, and the worried continuity writer finally acceded to her insistent requests. He left the studio with Rachel accompanying him.

Janet turned to Curt Newsom.

"I thought all of the work on this script was being handled with the utmost precaution and that no one outside was to do anything on it?"

"I guess that's right, but Rachel can hardly be called an outsider since she belongs to the studio's stock company."

"But she sells some of her radio skits free lance," insisted Janet.

"That's right," agreed Curt. "I hadn't thought of that."

He hastened over to Director Adolphi.

"No one with any outside contacts is supposed to work on this script or in the company," he told the director.

"That's right," replied Mr. Adolphi. "There's an iron-clad contract with the Ace Motion Picture Corporation to that effect."

"Then you'd better get Rachel back here. She'll read the rest of the script and know what the final broadcast will be."

"Oh, but Rachel's all right. Of course she does a little free lance stuff, but she can be depended upon."

"I'm not arguing that point," said Curt firmly. "I'm just telling you to get Rachel back here unless you want a violation of your contract reported to the Ace Company."

"I didn't think you'd stoop to such a dirty trick," sneered the radio director.

"You don't even need to think," snapped Curt, his eyes flashing. "You just live up to the agreements of that contract and you'll have no more trouble."

With his temper considerably ruffled, Mr. Adolphi left the studio and other members of the company stared wide-eyed at the husky cowboy star for most of them held their director in awe, but Curt had spoken firmly and there had been nothing else for Adolphi to do unless he violated the contract.

He returned to the studio in less than five minutes with Rachel Nesbit at his heels. The minute she entered the room, she rushed toward Janet, her hands clenched and her eyes snapping sparks of anger.

"You're responsible for this insult," she stormed at Janet. "I'd like to step on you."

"Oh, calm down, Rachel," said the director. "It was this skinny cowboy who started the trouble."

The radio actress and continuity writer whirled toward Curt Newsom.

"Go ahead and step on me," he grinned, and a titter of giggles ran through the rest of the company.

Rachel's dark cheeks flamed anew with anger, but she kept her tongue and turned away in silence.

The rehearsal continued. They were getting well along in the production and Janet felt that it was going smoothly. It was a condensed version of the real story of "Kings of the Air" and so to Janet and Helen it was familiar material.

Promptly at noon the director stopped the rehearsal.

"Half an hour for lunch," he announced and the company scattered at once.

Janet and Helen walked down the long corridor to the reception room where a hurrying figure almost bumped into them.

It was Jim Hill, the continuity writer. He stopped suddenly and his face lighted up as he recognized them.

"Just the girls I'm looking for!" he exclaimed. "Lunch time?"

Janet nodded.

"Then have lunch with me," and before they could remonstrate, he hurried them toward the elevator and they dropped downward with a suddenness that always unnerved Janet.

Chapter Twenty-three

JANET PINCH HITS

Janet and Helen found that Jim Hill was extremely pleasant and likeable, but he appeared to be laboring under some severe nervous strain and Janet noticed that his hands shook when he picked up a glass of milk.

"This script for your broadcast has about got me down," he confessed. "I've got to keep lots of punch in the action and yet I can't give away the actual plot of the film. On top of that old Adolphi is a regular crab and it doesn't seem like anything will suit him. This whole show of yours has to be okayed Saturday night by the Ace film people and if they don't like it they can cancel out and give it to another company."

"Is there any danger of that?" asked Janet.

"I'll say there is. This is a juicy contract and two other chains would like to get it on their networks. Believe me, there is some intense rivalry in getting big contracts like this. Why the Acme and the Sky High chains would be willing to pay a large sum just to see us fizzle the rehearsal Saturday night."

Janet was silent for a time. She had sensed the tension in the studio without knowing exactly what was behind it. Now she knew what was wrong.

Jim Hill was speaking again.

"Both of you girls are from the original film company on the coast, aren't you?" he asked.

Helen nodded in agreement.

"Then perhaps you would have some suggestions that might help me out of this tangle," suggested the continuity writer.

"Mr. Adolphi suggested that several days ago and I worked one whole afternoon on it, but someone stole the manuscript I had finished out of my room," explained Janet.

Jim whistled softly to himself.

"So that's how it stands." Janet and Helen weren't sure whether he was talking to them or to himself.

The continuity writer pushed back his chair and stared at them appraisingly.

"I wish you'd help me and I'll promise that your script won't be stolen from your hotel room. What do you say?"

Janet looked at Helen, and her companion nodded approvingly. The decision was easy to make for Jim was likeable and both of the girls wanted the broadcast to be a success.

"All right, we'll do it," said Janet.

"You mean you'll do it," Helen corrected her. "I'm not good as a writer and you can fairly make a typewriter talk. I'll just hang around and give you whatever advice I can and try not to be a nuisance."

"Say, that's great," said the continuity writer. "When can you begin?"

"As soon as we are through rehearsing this afternoon," promised Janet.

"How long will it take?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "Radio continuity is something new for me. I'll simply do the rough stuff and you'll have to smooth it over."

"Then suppose you come to my office as soon as you're through and you can work right on into the evening. Helen and I will see that you are well supplied with coffee, sandwiches and whatever you want in the way of eats."

"I'll be there," promised Janet. "Now we've got to get back to the studio."

At rehearsal that afternoon neither their director nor Rachel Nesbit were in a good mood and Rachel made it obvious that despite Curt's explanation she still blamed Janet and Helen for being taken off the continuity work on the script.

"It was the chance of a lifetime," Janet overheard her telling another girl in the company. "What if there is a clause about keeping the script secret. I'd know it as soon as the final chapter is placed in the hands of the company for rehearsal."

"But we won't get the final chapter until Saturday afternoon," replied the other. "They're taking no chances about any leaks on this program so any of the other companies can interfere with their contract for this big film broadcast."

Janet had no idea just how much the broadcast of their program would mean to the World Broadcasting Company, but from all the talk in the studio, she knew that it must be an exceedingly large sum. The vice president in charge of programs dropped into the studio that afternoon and watched them work for over an hour. At the end of that time, when the director called a brief recess, Janet saw him conferring with Mr. Adolphi. Whatever passed between them evidently was not pleasant to the director for he called them back at once and they started all over again, the director driving them with an intensity that approached a white-hot fury.

At last the rehearsal was over and most of them were completely worn out. Janet, fortunately, had been spared most of the director's criticism while poor Helen had come in for several bitter attacks from him.

"I'm going on to the hotel, take a shower and crawl into bed," said Helen. "Another day like this will put me in bed for a week."

"I'll be along later," said Janet. "Get the mail at the desk and if there are any letters for me, leave them on my bed."

They parted, Helen taking the elevator down and Janet turning toward the suite of rooms where the continuity writers worked. At the end of a long corridor, she found Jim Hill's office, a tiny cubby that contained only a desk, chair and typewriter stand.

"I thought you'd forgotten all about this writing date," said Jim, looking up. "I've patched up the sequence that Adolphi objected to this afternoon, but I'm still in a mess over the last episode. It's got to carry a lot of punch and this is the chapter we've got to guard until the last afternoon of rehearsal. There are more leaks in a big studio like this than you can shake a fist at."

"But who would give away this information?" asked Janet.

"That's not hard to guess," replied Jim. "It could be someone jealous of another member of the company, or someone who wanted a job with another broadcasting outfit and who figured that by double crossing his or her present employer, a better job could be obtained."

Jim stood up and motioned for Janet to take his place at the typewriter. Briefly he explained what he had been trying to work out and Janet thought his ideas sounded good. But somewhere the winning punch was lacking.

She scanned the last pages of script which he had written. Then she rolled a fresh sheet of copy paper into the typewriter and started work. A new interest took possession of her and the fatigue of the day dropped away as she got into the swing of the writing.

Chapter Twenty-four

NIGHT ON THE TWENTY-SEVENTH FLOOR

Jim Hill peered over her shoulder for a time. Then satisfied at the work she was doing, he slipped away and went in quest of a basket of lunch. It was nearly half an hour before he returned and by that time Janet had completed two pages of manuscript.

Jim laid the lunch out on his desk and while Janet munched a thick, cold meat sandwich and quaffed a glass of cold milk, he read the pages with real care.

"Say, this is just the stuff my script lacked," enthused the continuity writer. "My gosh, Janet, you ought to be on the staff here. We pay money for fresh ideas like these."

Janet stopped munching the sandwich and looked at Jim Hill with real interest.

"You actually think it is good?" she asked.

"I'll say it's good. Of course a lot of work has to be done to put it in finished form, but you've got the meat of it here. I'm going to take this down to McGregor. He's still in his office."

Before Janet could ask about McGregor and who he was, Jim Hill picked up the manuscript and his own work and fled down the hall.

When he returned ten minutes later a square hulk of a man, who had thick pompadour hair and peered through thick lensed glasses, followed him into his office.

"Janet," said the younger writer, "I want you to know Mr. McGregor, who is head of our continuity department. I showed him your manuscript and he agrees with me that it is just what we want for the final episode in the program for Ace Pictures. Can you go on working tonight? We've got to have the finished draft in the morning."

There was a dire appeal in young Jim Hill's eyes. Janet couldn't have ignored that and then Mr. McGregor spoke.

"It is extremely important that we have the Ace contract," he said in his slow, precise way. "Other companies are also anxious for it and if our dress rehearsal Saturday night fails to meet the approval of the Ace officials, we may lose the contract, which would then go to one of our rivals. We are none too sure but what they have certain people within our own staff who might sell them some of our secrets about this program."

"I know the situation," said Janet. "I'm tired, but I'll keep on until I either go to sleep or am through."

Mr. McGregor smiled approvingly and Jim Hill felt like shouting.

"That's splendid," said the continuity chief. "I'm going to send Jim along to bed. He's to report here early tomorrow morning to start the rewriting of your story. You keep on as long as you can. When you are through you can lock the script in the right hand drawer of Jim's desk. Here is a key for you and Jim has one already."

The head of the continuity department departed and Jim Hill lingered on for a minute or two.

"Want some more lunch?" he asked.

Janet, who had turned back to her typewriter, shook her head.

"How about a cup of coffee to keep you awake a while longer? I don't want you to go to sleep before you get this material hashed out for me."

"Go on, Jim. I'll get along all right. It won't take long now if I'm not interrupted."

Jim Hill took the hint and departed quietly and Janet continued with her work. It was something she thoroughly enjoyed doing. This writing was creating something out of whole cloth. Of course it would have to have a special revision by Jim tomorrow to work it into the script, but when it finally went on the air there would still be a lot of her material in the radio play.

Janet worked for more than half an hour and then leaned back in her chair for her arms ached and her eyes were blurred.

The studio was strangely silent. From somewhere at a distance came the soft strains of an orchestra but there was no sound in the corridor where the writer's offices were located.

Janet picked up the sheets of copy she had written and scanned the material. She smiled a bit as she read it and admitted that it did real well.

Placing the sheets back on the desk, she inserted a fresh page of copy paper into the typewriter. She would be through in a few more minutes. She glanced at her wrist watch before she started in again. It was eleven-forty. By midnight she would be through.

Janet was about to resume her work when a queer sensation started at the base of her spine and shot up her back. It was a feeling she couldn't quite describe and she sat perfectly motionless for several seconds.

Through her mind shot the thought that someone was watching her, peering at her from the darkness of the long corridor.

Janet turned suddenly, but there was no one behind her. She got up and went to the door where she could look down the corridor, but there was no one in sight. The office across the corridor from Jim's was dark and the windows only mirrored the shadowy depths.

Despite the fact that she saw no one, Janet was not wholly reassured and she looked about Jim's office. There were shades at the windows and the door which could be pulled down and she closed the door and drew all of the curtains. Before returning to the desk, she snapped the spring lock on the door. That done, she went back to the typewriter, but it was hard to concentrate now.

Janet forced herself to the task. She knew she must finish and at last got into the mood of her script again, working now at high speed and wholly forgetful of the strange feeling which had alarmed her.

Somewhere in the distance a bell tolled midnight as she finished the last page and pulled it triumphantly from the typewriter. The job was done and she felt that it was well done.

The pages she had written were scattered over the top of the desk and as she reached out to pick them up, one of them floated to the floor. Janet half turned to pick it up. As she did so, her eyes fell on a small gap in the curtains she had drawn on the windows along the corridor.

Chapter Twenty-five

JANET OPENS A DOOR

A half stifled scream escaped from her lips. Someone was staring at her intently through the small opening. The light from the desk lamp was just strong enough to reveal two eyes. That was all, but Janet saw the desperate intentness with which they were focused upon her.

Then the eyes vanished and there was no sound from the corridor. Involuntarily Janet leaped to her feet, her trembling hands seeking the curtain and closing the gap. She wanted to cry out, but the words stuck in her throat and she realized that to scream would be useless for there was no one along the corridor at this hour of the night who could help her.

Stepping back from the curtained window, Janet listened intently for the sound of footfalls in the corridor. Then she remembered that it was heavily carpeted and one could move along it without making a noise.

Visibly shaken, she finally rallied her nerves and stooped down to pick up the sheet of copy which had fallen from the desk. Almost mechanically she placed the sheets in order and stacked them neatly. That done she sat down at the desk to decide what to do.

There was no question in her own mind but what someone was after the manuscript she had finished and someone outside the studio. The disappearance of the manuscript from her hotel room tied up with this latest event and Janet knew that some agency was determined that the story of the last eventful days of the filming of "Kings of the Air" should never be told as a part of the radio play they were to present. Whether the unknown force was the Premier Film Company or a radio rival of the World Broadcasting Company, she couldn't even guess, but in either case she knew that she was in a particularly unpleasant position, and wished that Jim was with her.

Janet unlocked the right hand drawer of Jim's desk and pulled it out. For ordinary purposes it was strong enough, but to place a valuable manuscript in it was something that made her hesitate.

She turned around and stared at the curtains at the windows and the door along the corridor. They were drawn tightly now. It would be impossible for anyone to see in the office.

What should she do with the manuscript? Would it be safe in her own hands when she walked down the long corridor she must traverse before she reached the reception lobby and the battery of elevators?

Janet didn't feel she wanted to risk that, yet she knew it would be unsafe in the drawer of Jim's desk.

Suddenly her gaze fell upon the telephone and she smiled a little foolishly. She picked up the instrument and waited for the operator in the main office to answer.

There was no response.

Janet jiggled the hook several times, but still there was no answer. She did not know that the particular branch exchange on that floor which served the publicity department did not have an operator on duty after midnight.

Janet's spirits drooped when she failed to get a response through the telephone and once more she looked about the room for some place to hide the manuscript.

Suddenly she hit upon a plan of action. Seizing the manuscript she hastened over near the outside window, reached down and pulled up the heavy carpet which covered the floor. Working swiftly she placed the manuscript under the carpet, spreading the sheets out so there would be no noticeable bulge in the floor covering.

That done Janet returned to the desk, picked up a handful of blank copy paper, folded it quickly, and stuffed it into a large envelope. Taking up a pen she scrawled these words on the envelope: "Jim Hill--Here is the manuscript you wanted. Hope it is something that will fit into your program. Janet Hardy."

Janet didn't even stop to blot the wet ink, dropping the envelope into the drawer, and closing and locking the receptacle.

She felt better after that. At least she felt she had done her best to save the manuscript. Now the problem was to get up enough courage to attempt the walk down the long, darkened corridor.

Janet slipped the key to the drawer of Jim's desk into her left shoe, mechanically patted her hair, and decided that she might just as well be on her way.

It took nerve to open that door, and to step out into the hall from which someone had been staring at her only several minutes before. But somehow Janet managed it.

Chapter Twenty-six

IN THE HALL

From a distance came the soft strains of an orchestra playing in one of the more distant studios on the same floor, but there was no movement in the corridor.

Janet paused at the door. Should she snap out the lights? If no one came along they would burn all night, yet if she turned them off, she would be in utter darkness.

Then she realized that she was silhouetted in the light. Anyone who might trouble her would be even more handicapped than she in the darkness and her fingers pressed the switch.

As the lights went out, Janet stepped quickly away from the door, her feet treading silently on the heavy carpet which covered the floor of the hall.

Janet pressed close against the wall, listening for some sound which would indicate that someone was lurking in the corridor. There was only the far away music of the orchestra as it played a dreamy waltz. From outside a clock boomed, but Janet couldn't remember whether it was a half after midnight or a quarter to one. It didn't matter much, she decided.

Convinced at last there was no one moving along the corridor, she started feeling her own way along. The end of the corridor was marked by a very dim light that failed to penetrate more than a dozen feet in any direction. It was toward this glow that Janet started.

It was a ghostly and unnerving business, but she couldn't spend the whole night in Jim's office. It just wasn't possible. She had to get out.

Fighting to keep down a mounting fear, Janet quickened her steps. Then she stopped abruptly. Just why she did that, she would never know, but her instinct warned her that someone was near.

She turned toward an office door she had just passed. It was open and a flood of light poured out to blind Janet's tired eyes. The beam from the electric torch was so bright it fairly seared its way into her fatigued mind.

Then the stabbing light vanished and Janet heard a swift movement. A hard hand was clapped over her mouth and she felt an arm slide around her neck.

Before she could scream or move, a soft cloth, which reminded her of a hospital, was slapped against her face and the fumes of ether penetrated her nose and throat. Janet attempted to struggle but two capable arms held her fast.