Part 9

By the time they had turned in their plans and charts to the file clerk and returned to the loft-theater building, it was almost six o’clock. Most of the trucks that had filled the streets were gone now, not to return until after midnight, when the produce market would open for one more business “day.” A few of the offices, small manufacturing businesses and printing shops that filled the surrounding lofts, were still open, judging by the lights in their windows, but for the most part the streets and buildings were empty in the pearly twilight.

Making every effort to be inconspicuous, the girls ducked down the alley to the rear courtyard entrance of the Starlight Theater. A miniature marquee bearing the name “Mason’s” overhung a short flight of stairs that led up to a loading platform, at the back of which was a wide, high elevator door with pillars on either side. Above it, a plaster arch was decorated with the twin masks of Comus—comedy and tragedy.

“Do you still think that the janitor didn’t know there was a theater in the building?” Peggy whispered. “He’d have had to be blind as well as dumb.”

Walking very quietly, the girls ascended the steps and approached the huge elevator door. “Look!” Peggy whispered, pointing to the metal doorsill. Amy nodded, clearly understanding the meaning of the bright metal.

“It’s being used regularly,” Peggy said. “You can see where the sill is dark and rusted toward the sides, and bright in the center, where people have been walking over it.”

“And the lock!” Amy said. She and Peggy examined the heavy padlock that secured the door to the frame by stout hasps. It was bright and clean, of modern design and well-oiled. Any further doubts they might have had were dispelled by examination of the door hinges, which were coated with a heavy layer of fresh grease.

“Not only is the theater in use,” Peggy whispered, “but whoever is using it is being awfully careful that he doesn’t make any noise opening and shutting these doors. Are you convinced now?”

Amy nodded, wide-eyed. “I surely am. And I’m convinced that we’d better get out of here before the man with the keys comes along! I’d hate to be caught snooping around!”

Feeling not in the least as calm as she hoped she looked, Peggy motioned Amy to wait while she took a last look around to be sure that there was nothing she had missed. Then, her heart beating wildly, she and Amy left the alley as cautiously as they had entered it. But neither of them felt really safe until they were blocks away, and on their way to Connie’s for the meeting of the players.

“We seem to be practically living in alleys,” Amy said as they let themselves in through the street gate and started down the passage to Connie’s little house.

“Yes, but I feel a lot better in this one than in the last,” Peggy said. “When we get the theater, we’ll have to fix up that alley like this one, with flower borders and lights to make it cheerful. We can fix up the courtyard, too, with a little fountain and some garden seats and—”

“You’re awfully confident about getting that theater,” Amy interrupted. “I hope that you’re not going to be disappointed.”

“I won’t be,” Peggy said. “I know that it was just meant for us, and I mean to make sure that we get it!”

Connie let the girls in, and while they were saying hello to her and the others, the buzzer announced the arrival of Tom Galen and Mona Downs.

“I’m so glad everyone’s here at once!” Peggy said. “We’re so full of news that if we had to wait for anyone, I think we’d burst!”

“Don’t tell us you’ve found a theater!” Randy exclaimed.

“I will tell you,” Peggy answered, “because we did!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Mal asked.

“Where is it?” Connie said at the same time.

“And how much is it?” Randy put in, in the same instant.

“Whoa! One at a time!” Peggy protested. “If everybody will get settled and hold the questions for a few minutes, I’ll tell you all about it. Now,” she said, when the players were seated in expectant attitudes, “now I’ll tell you everything you want to know. It’s called Mason’s Starlight Theater; it’s on the top floor of a loft in the market area southwest of Greenwich Village; we don’t know the rent; it’s a perfect theater, just the right size, and—.”

“I feel a _but_ coming, rather than an _and_,” Randy said.

“Well, only a small _but_,” Peggy said. “The place happens to be in use right now.”

“Great,” Mal said sarcastically. “You can now add your name to the long list of those among us who have located perfect theaters that happen to be in use!”

“Wait!” Peggy said. “This is different. In the first place, nobody will admit to using it; in the second place, we think there’s something crooked going on there; and if we do a little bit of detective work, I think we can find out what it is. If I’m right, and if it’s being used by crooks, we can get the theater for ourselves by getting the crooks out!”

Their interest aroused by this unusual statement, the players began to question Peggy and Amy about their suspicions and about the circumstances that surrounded their discovery of the Starlight Theater. When the girls had told them about their interview with the janitor, and about their later visit to the alley behind the building, everyone seemed convinced that there was something peculiar going on at the place.

“The polished doorsill and the greased hinges and the new lock prove that it’s being used,” Peggy concluded. “And the janitor’s attitude seems to indicate that it’s being used for something illegal.”

“It sounds like an airtight case to me,” Pip said. “Why don’t we just take the facts to the police and let them investigate?”

“Because there are no facts yet,” Peggy said. “All we have are guesses. There must be thousands of places in use in the city, and thousands of janitors who don’t want to be friendly and tell what they’re used for, and I don’t think that the police would be willing to agree that they’re all run by gangsters.”

“Peggy’s right. We can’t go to the police without more evidence,” Randy said. “Before they’ll swear out a search warrant, we have to have something more definite for them.”

“Then let’s get it!” Pip said with enthusiasm. “What do you suggest, Peggy?”

“I think we ought to set up a lookout post in that back alley,” she answered decisively. “There’s a place under the fire stairs on the far side of the building where two people could hide and see without being seen, and it shouldn’t take more than a couple of nights of looking to find out what’s going on.”

“Why nights?” Randy asked. “They might be doing whatever it is they do in the daytime, too. I’m afraid we’d have to set up a twenty-four-hour watch to be sure of finding anything out.”

“I don’t think so, Randy,” Peggy argued. “If they were using the place by day, they probably wouldn’t have taken so much care with the hinges. What’s more, I’m sure the janitor was sleeping when we rang the bell, which is why he took so long in answering it. I would guess that he works at night with the rest of the gang. Besides, that neighborhood would be perfect for night work. The markets are practically deserted between six and midnight. Probably after midnight, when the markets open up, the crooks run a legitimate trucking business as a cover-up.”

“The girl’s a positive Sherlock,” Mal said fondly. “Anyway, we can try a few nights, and if nothing shows up, we can then worry about extending the watch during the daytime as well.”

“When do we start?” Tom Galen asked.

“Tomorrow night,” Peggy said. “It’s too late to start tonight. We’d want to be in the alley and under the stairs before it gets really dark. Tomorrow Amy and I will stand watch, then—”

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Randy said. “You two have done your part in this. The lookout work will be done by men!”

“You’re probably right,” Peggy said, outwardly reluctant to give in, but secretly happy that she wouldn’t have to spend nights crouching under those dark stairs and waiting for heaven only knew what.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” Pip said.

“I’ll go with you,” Tom Galen said. “We’d better go two at a time, at least for the purpose of having two witnesses to anything we see.”

“Good. Randy and I will go the next night,” Mal said. “We can alternate from there.”

Everything arranged, Mal tried to turn the group to the original purpose of the meeting, which was to work on further readings of the play. He soon realized that everyone was too keyed up to concentrate, and canceled work for the night.

“I think, in fact, that we’d better forget about rehearsals entirely,” he said, “at least until we have this theater business settled one way or the other. For one thing, we’re going to need all the sleep we can get on the nights that we’re not standing watch.”

Everyone agreed, and in varying states of tension and excitement, said good night and parted, knowing that the next few days might be very, very busy.

XVI _Understudies for Danger_

School the next day seemed almost unreal to Peggy. Or was it the dark alley and the night watch to come that was the unreal thing? Considered carefully, nothing seemed quite real, even her home and her parents in the neat, orderly world of Rockport. A ride on Socks around the autumn fields of Wisconsin would clear her mind, she thought, or just an hour alone in her favorite thinking spot in the harness room.

Her thoughts, shuttling restlessly between the friendly barn and the now-sinister alley, were definitely not on her work, which was a lecture session on television acting technique.

At lunch in the park, the discussion centered on the night’s work that waited for Pip and Tom Galen. It all seemed very melodramatic.

“I’ve arranged with Tom,” Pip was saying, “to meet me downtown a little before six. We’re both going to wear black slacks and sweaters, and we’ll take black gloves. That way, we ought to melt into the shadows perfectly.”

“How about your faces?” Connie giggled. “Are you going to go in blackface like a couple of Al Jolsons?”

“We considered it,” Pip said seriously, “but we decided that it wasn’t necessary. If anyone comes, we’ll hold our gloved hands over our faces, and look through our fingers.”

“I must say you’ve thought of everything,” Amy said in admiration.

“Everything,” Pip echoed gloomily, “except what to do if we get caught. We even worked out something about that, but I don’t know how good it is.”

“What have you worked out?” Peggy asked.

“We’re supposed to call Randy at one in the morning to tell him that we’re going off duty. If we don’t call by then, he’s supposed to call the police. Tomorrow night, he and Mal will call me at one.”

“That sounds sensible,” Peggy commented.

“Sure. Sensible. But if they catch us, say, at ten o’clock, we could be in some pretty bad trouble by the time the police come around after one.”

Feeling that this line of conversation was doing them no good at all, Peggy tried, with little success, to change the subject. By the time lunch was over and they had returned to the Academy, all four of them felt thoroughly depressed.

Somehow, Peggy got through the afternoon.

And somehow, she got through the night, but it was scarcely a restful one. She lay awake until one o’clock worrying about Pip and Tom, and finally, at one-fifteen, called Randy. He answered at the first ring, quite awake.

“Did they call?” she asked.

“At one o’clock sharp,” he assured her. “They haven’t seen anything at all, and they’re perfectly all right. Now get some sleep. Good night.”

Feeling relieved, Peggy went back to bed, but it was not easy to sleep. What had seemed such a good idea yesterday was beginning to seem foolish today. The boys were engaging in unknown risks, and nobody knew what dangers they might encounter. Perhaps they should have gone to the police in the first place, and tried to convince them that something was amiss. Perhaps they should still do so....

Finally, she slept, troubled by vague, unpleasant dreams.

The next day, her doubts grew stronger. Pip appeared at school late, looking like a molting owl. He had rings under his eyes and seemed not to have slept at all.

“We decided to stay on until daylight,” he explained wanly, “just in case your idea that any action would take place between six and twelve was wrong. Nothing happened, and we left at five-thirty in the morning.”

“But, Pip!” Peggy protested. “That’s a twelve-hour watch! You shouldn’t be in school today!”

“It’s all right,” he assured her with a weak smile. “I’m rested. Slept from six until nearly nine.”

He tackled his work gamely, but by noon agreed with Peggy that the wisest course would be to cut school for the afternoon and go home to sleep.

“Remember,” she cautioned him, “you have to set your alarm clock for one in the morning, in case you don’t get a call from Randy and Mal.”

“I’m going to do better than that,” Pip said. “I’m going to shut off the bell on my telephone so I can sleep straight through to midnight. Then I’ll have the alarm wake me, so I can turn the phone on, and I’ll set the alarm for one o’clock then.”

Pip left, somewhat unsteadily, and Peggy went to her afternoon class on Elizabethan drama. She forced herself to concentrate, knowing that she would have more than enough time that night to worry about the mystery of the alley, and to speculate on what troubles the second night watch might bring.

It was five-thirty and teatime at the Gramercy Arms when the troubles began.

“Your redheaded boy friend’s on the phone for you, Peggy,” Greta announced from the head of the stairs. “He sounds worried.”

Hurriedly putting down her teacup, Peggy ran from the kitchen and up to the phone in the hall.

“Randy,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m afraid so, Peggy,” he answered. “Nothing serious, but I’m afraid that Mal and I are going to be hopelessly late for our watch tonight, and unless you want to take a chance on missing whatever action might take place in the alley, Pip and Tom are going to have to cover it again. At least for the first few hours.”

“What happened?” she asked. “Where are you?”

“It’s my car,” he answered. “I had to go out to my family’s place on Long Island to get some stuff, and Mal came along for the ride. We thought we’d have plenty of time, but on the way back, the car broke down. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and the trouble will take at least another hour to fix. That means that we couldn’t possibly be at the alley until about seven-thirty, and, to tell the truth, eight or nine would be more like it. Will you get hold of Pip and Tom and tell them the sad news?”

Peggy agreed, wished him good luck with the car, and hung up.

Pip’s phone didn’t answer, and after ringing for several minutes, Peggy remembered his decision to shut off the bell until midnight. She next tried the midtown hotel where Tom Galen lived, but he was not in his room, and the desk clerk had not seen him for several hours.

Hurrying downstairs to the kitchen and her now cold cup of tea, she broke the news to Amy.

“Well, maybe nothing will happen before eight or nine,” Amy said hopefully, but not looking too convinced.

“I’m afraid that if anything is going to happen, that’s just about the time for it,” Peggy said. “The neighborhood doesn’t really empty out until after six, and it starts to get busy again a little before midnight. If I wanted to do any work in that alley, I think I’d plan to arrive by eight and leave by ten, if it could be done.”

“Nothing happened last night,” Amy said, “so maybe nothing will happen tonight either.”

“I’m going to have to disagree again. Just because nothing happened last night, I think that we stand a better chance of seeing something tonight. Judging from the used condition of that doorsill, whoever’s using the place doesn’t let too much time go by between visits.”

“But what can we do about it?” Amy said. “With Randy and Mal out on Long Island, and Pip and Tom unreachable, that leaves only us.”

“I know,” Peggy said firmly. “And that’s who’s going to go tonight!”

“Oh, Peggy! Do you think we ought to?” Amy asked. “I mean, it might be dangerous, and we are a couple of girls, and....”

“This is no time to play the feminine Southern belle,” Peggy said. “We have to go. And besides, there’s no danger. It’s not as if we’ll be seen, or as if we meant to rush out and stop the crooks if we see them! We’ll just hide under the stairs and watch. Anyway, even if you don’t want to go, you can’t stop me.”

“That settles it,” Amy said with conviction. “You’re not going to go to that place alone. When do we start?”

“Right now!” Peggy said eagerly. “It’s almost six o’clock, and we haven’t got too much time to get there before it’s dark. Come on! We have to get dressed for the occasion!”

XVII _Backstage Fright_

Peggy giggled uneasily as she and Amy inspected themselves in the hall mirror before leaving the Gramercy Arms. “We look like a couple of character actors dressed up for a skit on the Beat Generation.”

“Or like a couple of weird vampires from a horror movie,” Amy replied with a nervous laugh.

Greta surveyed them critically. “At least you don’t have to worry about anything,” she said acidly. “Those getups would frighten off any man in the world. If the crooks do catch sight of you, all it’ll take is one look before they scream and run!”

Both girls were dressed identically, having taken their cue from Pip in the matter of appropriate clothes for playing detective in a dark alley. They wore black skirts and sweaters, black stockings and black shoes. They carried black gloves and black scarves. The scarf was necessary for Amy to cover her bright, blond hair, and Peggy thought it was a good idea for her to take one, too, as a face covering. Neither wore any jewelry at all, so there would be nothing to rattle or jingle or catch the light.

“If we’re not back by morning,” Peggy said wryly, “send out the bloodhounds for us.”

“I’m waiting up for you,” Greta said. “And if you’re not back by one-thirty, the first bloodhound to pick up your trail is going to be me. With an appropriate police escort,” she added.

“Don’t worry,” Peggy said. “We’ll be all right. Just wish us luck, and we’ll be on our way.”

“All right, then. Good luck,” Greta said, opening the door for them. “I just hope the police don’t pick you up, for looking like suspicious characters.”

Peggy and Amy left, feeling a little foolish about their costumes, but after walking for a block or two, they realized that nobody was even looking at them.

“That’s the wonderful thing about New York,” Peggy said. “You can wear anything, or do anything, and nobody seems to care as long as you don’t disturb the peace.”

Amy nodded in agreement. “The other day I noticed a man with a beard down to his waist. He was wearing a long Biblical-looking white robe and a pair of sandals, and nobody on the street was paying the least bit of attention to him. Just try to picture him passing unnoticed in Pine Hollow or in Rockport!”

“Just try to picture us passing unnoticed in Pine Hollow or in Rockport!” Peggy laughed. “We’d probably have a crowd of people and barking dogs and small boys throwing stones by now!”

The driver scarcely glanced at them as they boarded a bus.

“I suppose it’s nice to know that nobody bothers about you in New York,” Peggy said when they were seated, “but in a way it’s kind of scary. I mean, supposing something were to happen to us, do you think that anyone would even notice it if we screamed?”

Amy shivered. “I know what you mean,” she said. “I suppose a lot of people would notice it, and then they’d just put it out of their minds and do nothing about it. They’d just figure it was none of their business, after all, and go right on doing what they were doing.”

The thought was not a happy one, and both girls lapsed into a tense silence as the bus bore them downtown into the deepening twilight.

They got off in a district of office buildings, shops, and showrooms, all dark now. The streets were empty, save for an occasional car or taxi and the taillights of their bus, receding in the distance. As they turned to the west, down a narrow side street, the street lights came on. They seemed to accentuate the darkness rather than relieve it. The girls hurried on past closed doors and shuttered windows. Each block they walked brought them past older and lower buildings. The smell of the river was brought to them by an incoming mist. Somewhere in the distance a foghorn sounded two short, mournful blasts and then was still.

They were in the market and warehouse district now. Parked trucks stood silently by darkened loading docks, and shadows crouched behind tall stacks of crates and boxes. One shadow suddenly detached itself from the rest and shot by them with a wail! Peggy’s heart leaped and she clutched Amy’s arm before she realized it was only an alley cat.

“A cat!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling in mixed fear and relief. “Just a cat! Oh dear, if I let that sort of thing scare me, I’m not going to be much good tonight!”

“I ... I was frightened, too,” Amy said. “It was so sudden! We’ll probably see more of them here, chasing the rats that must live around these food markets. We’d better get used to it.”

But the thought of rats did nothing to calm Peggy’s nerves, or Amy’s either. What if, in the alley behind the theater, rats should come? What if they should come at the same time as the crooks? What if, under the fire stairs, there should come a quiet scratching...? Peggy wondered if she would be able to keep her silence then.

But they were near the theater alley now, and Peggy resolutely put her fear of rats out of her mind. Let’s just worry about one thing at a time, she told herself. The street was deserted, as she had hoped it would be, and they were able to slip into the alley unobserved.

They walked cautiously, taking care with each step. If there was any work going on in the alley now, this would be no time to disturb it. Before turning the corner into the back court, they paused and listened for what seemed a very long time. Not a sound disturbed the night. The immediate silence was so perfect that they could hear, far in the distance, the never-ending rumble and stir of the city, the growl of subways and motors, the far-off drone of airplanes.

They turned into the empty courtyard, darted noiselessly for the fire stairs and crouched in the shadows, their hearts drumming loudly and the blood roaring in their ears like the noise of the distant subways.

It was some time before they felt calm enough to take stock of their position. The fire stair was, as Peggy had told the boys, a perfect place to hide. Most of it mounted out of sight in an airshaft on the side of the building opposite the entrance alley. Only the last six steps came out into the court, having turned the corner of the building at a landing. The space below the landing made a cramped little lean-to, protected by the steps themselves on one side and by a latticework of metal on the other. The space was open only in the rear, from which direction nobody could approach them.

The steps themselves were steel, and the risers between the steps were of the same metal grillwork as that on the side. It was almost impossible for anyone to see into the shadowed cubbyhole behind the grill, but quite an easy matter for the girls to see out.

“I think we’re safe enough here,” Peggy whispered, tactfully restraining herself from adding, “as long as no rats come around.”

“It seems safe,” Amy agreed, “but I wouldn’t exactly call it comfortable. It’s too low to stand in, and I hate the thought of sitting down on the dirt that’s collected here. There’s a box out there in the courtyard. Why don’t we bring it in to sit on?”