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.