CHAPTER X

The Wrong Direction

Judy knew a moment of panic. When she tried to describe Clarissa all she could remember was her hair. She called it honey colored while Pauline and Flo described it as dark blond.

“She was pretty,” they all agreed. “She looked a little like—well, like Francine Dow. She’s the guest star who played Sleeping Beauty,” Judy added.

“She wasn’t that pretty,” Flo objected quickly. “Her hair was dull, and she had a rather drab look about her. She was young—”

“How young?” the policeman asked.

“About sixteen.”

“The woman they took away in the ambulance can’t be your missing friend if that’s the way it is,” the policeman said reassuringly. “No one could call her sixteen. Besides, she was hurt on her way to the theater—not coming away from it. The taxi driver says she kept after him to hurry. He turned the corner too fast and skidded into another car. Fortunately, no one in the second vehicle was hurt. But here’s the cab driver,” he ended abruptly. “He can tell you about it himself.”

Judy was introduced to the cab driver, who was a little shaken up, but not hurt. More than anything else, he seemed concerned about his passenger.

“Friend of yours?” he inquired.

Judy didn’t know what to say. Was Clarissa a friend or wasn’t she? Had she deceived them as Pauline and Flo seemed to think? It was Pauline who described the missing girl and took down the name of the hospital where the victim of the accident was taken.

“She couldn’t have been Clarissa. She was going in the wrong direction,” Flo told Pauline.

“Where did she hail your cab?” Judy asked finally.

“Grand Central Station,” he replied. “She said she’d just arrived in town and had to get to the theater in a hurry. She didn’t say why. Just gave me the address and a big tip and told me to step on it as she was already late—”

“She certainly was if she expected to see the Sleeping Beauty show. She’d already missed the best part of it.”

“Do you mean the witch dance?” the cab driver asked. “She said something about that.”

“What else did she say?” Judy asked eagerly.

“Don’t know. I don’t listen much,” the cab driver confessed. “I got my own problems. If this dame don’t come to—”

“Was she badly hurt?” Pauline interrupted.

“Out like a light. Couldn’t give her name or anything. I wish you girls did know her. It would be a help. She was what I’d call the theatrical type,” the cab driver continued. “Older than you, but sort of young looking—if you get what I mean.”

“What color was your passenger’s hair?” asked Judy.

The cab driver’s answer startled her. “Red,” he replied. “But not natural looking like yours. Think you know her?”

“I’m sure we don’t. It’s funny she mentioned the witch dance, though,” Flo said thoughtfully as the three girls turned away. “If there’s any truth in that story Clarissa told us—”

Pauline broke in with a laugh.

“You aren’t entertaining the idea that she might really be a changeling, are you?”

“No, but it did frighten her when that witch whirled in.”

“You remember that? You know she was sitting beside you then?” Pauline questioned.

“I remember it, too,” put in Judy. “I heard her say she’d left her two bottles of shampoo back there on the witch’s dressing table. Maybe she went backstage after them.”

“If she went anywhere,” Pauline said grimly, “it was for the reason I mentioned. She had our twenty dollars, didn’t she?”

“She said her father is a minister. I’ll bet he is—not!” scoffed Flo. “And Irene was telling me she didn’t think some advertising was honest! I wonder what she’ll say when she hears that our phantom friend disappeared with the money we lent her.”

“But Flo, maybe she didn’t,” Judy protested. “Maybe she’s back there in the theater looking for us.”

“That could be exactly where she is,” agreed Pauline. “Let’s ask Irene if she knows what happened to her. I’m sure our phantom friend didn’t disappear into the mist.”

Judy shivered at the way she said it. Remembering the film storage room and the secret it held, anything seemed possible. A real chill went through her as they reentered the theater. The overhead lights had been turned off, and the seats were all empty. The cameras, idle now, looked more like monsters than ever in the semidarkness. Most of the technicians had gone home, but there was some activity backstage where props were being put away. Voices came from the dressing room. Irene was saying, “I wonder where they went.”

“We went outside if it’s us you’re wondering about,” replied Judy, popping in at the door. Her entrance was so sudden that Irene jumped. The witch, who was just removing her green make-up, dropped her artificial nose. Pauline and Flo laughed, but their faces sobered when they attempted to describe the accident and their fears for Clarissa.

“We thought at first she might have taken a cab, but the cab was coming from Grand Central terminal and it had a redheaded woman in it. She was taken to the hospital—”

“You’re sure it wasn’t Clarissa?” Irene interrupted.

“We’re not sure of anything,” Flo replied with a shiver. “Clarissa is a strange girl. One minute she was there beside me, and the next time I looked she was gone. She probably sneaked out with the money we lent her. I was under the spell of the play and didn’t see her leave.”

“You see how good you were,” Irene said to the girl who had played the part of the witch. With her make-up removed, Judy could see that she was quite an ordinary-looking person. Her cackling voice, too, had been an act.

“Most people enjoy being frightened,” the girl said. “But I hope I didn’t upset your friend.”

Clarissa was not in the dressing room. Neither were the two bottles of shampoo she claimed she had left there.

“She must have taken them. Did you see her come back here?” Judy asked.

Irene shook her head. “I thought she was out there with you watching the play. I looked for you afterwards. I wanted to introduce you to Francine Dow, but her aunt hurried her away as soon as we went off the air. I’m not sure, but I don’t think she was quite well. Maybe she had a sore throat or something. She didn’t sing to the prince—”

“Was she supposed to?” Pauline interrupted to ask.

“Yes, at the end. I sang my whole theme song to fill in. Was it very noticeable?”

“It was beautiful, Irene. _You_ were the star,” Judy declared warmly. “Francine Dow played her part well, of course, but I liked best the part where you danced around the baby.”

“Did it look like a real baby in the crib? It wasn’t,” Irene explained. “It was only one of little Judy’s dolls. She knew we were going to use it. I told her we’d make it look like a real baby, but she didn’t understand about the film strip.”

“Will she think her doll came to life?”

“Perhaps. When she’s older I’ll explain it. To her television is a magic box where just about anything can happen.”

Judy thought about this a minute. The thought troubled her. Anything? She had a feeling something had happened—something she didn’t like at all. The film storage room was searched but yielded no clue to the disappearance of Clarissa.

“There’s nothing dangerous here, is there?” asked Judy, remembering the argument between the projectionist and the man from Flo’s agency.

Irene opened one of the waffle-shaped cans to show her the roll of film inside.

“This is a spot commercial for the golden hair wash people,” she said. “You couldn’t call that dangerous, even though young girls who use it would look so much lovelier with their own natural shade of hair.”

“I didn’t mean that. I’m not sure just what I did mean.”

The can of film looked innocent enough, but the fear that had gripped Judy stayed with her. Mr. Lenz had been justifiably angry, and the danger, whatever it was, had been real.