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."