osing
room. Now it was finished, the story of the year.

And as Trent slowly lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, he knew that he
had done a good job on the story. And a smile crossed his face as he
thought of it. His future was assured now. There could be no more
stopgaps, no more delays in his plans to marry Joan and settle down. And
the girl would have to agree. For the first time in many months, Fred
felt that his troubles were over with. And the feeling was nice. It
spread through him and he was content.

He glanced at his wrist watch and frowned. The story had taken longer
than he had anticipated. It was nearly eleven. Some of the enthusiasm
ran out of him as he thought of Joan waiting for him at Fenwick's. He
could imagine how angry she must be by now.

He got up quickly from his desk and reached for his hat. As he started
to walk away, the phone on his desk rang.

He stepped back and picked up the receiver.

"Trent speaking."

"_Fred!_"

Trent heard his name uttered in terror across the wire and he felt a
chill run through him as he recognized the voice. It was Joan Drake.

"Joan, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously.

"Fred! Come quickly! Bring help before it's too late--he'll kill us!"

"Joan! For God's sake, calm down! Now what's the matter?" His voice held
a tenseness in it as he spoke.

"It's Gaddon, Fred! Only it isn't Gaddon--it's a monster! He'll kill
us!"

"_Gaddon?_" Trent's voice spoke incredulously. "But that's imposs--"

"Oh, Fred, hurry-- I--oh--no--no! Keep away--"

He heard the girl scream over the phone then. And he heard something
else. A growling sound. A sound of animal noise unlike any other sound
he had ever heard. And then as he shouted into the phone: "Joan! Joan!"
the line went dead.

He stood for a moment, staring stupidly at the receiver in his hand.
Then he slammed it back on its cradle and turned. He nearly knocked over
the copy boy who hollered at him.

"Hey, Trent, the boss wants you in his office!"

But he swept by the boy unheeding. He didn't wait for the elevator. He
took the stairs in leaping bounds, and then he was on the main floor of
the building and out on the street.

He slammed the door of his car shut and started the motor. His hands
trembled as he meshed the gears and shot the coupe away from the curb.
Then he was moving swiftly through the traffic.

As he turned down the street where Fenwick's office was, Fred Trent's
mind was a whirl of confused t