a nearby drug store and from a pay station there
telephoned the World Broadcasting studio. It was as she had feared; Jim
had not returned. In fact, there was no one in the continuity
department.

It was with a heavy heart that Janet returned to the cab. So much
depended upon the safeguarding of the script. There was their own radio
debut for one thing. But that was comparatively minor. More than that
was the success of the broadcast which was to arouse public interest in
the film which Helen's father had created. This was what really counted.

When she told Helen and Curt that Jim had not returned to the studio,
the cowboy sat silent for a time.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," he said. "We may get in trouble, but
it's worth a try."

Without explaining what he intended to do, he bolted toward the drug
store and returned a minute later with an address written on a slip of
paper. He gave this to their driver and ordered him to get there with
the least possible delay.

"Where are we going?" asked Janet.

"To pay a little call on Director Adolphi."

"Then you think he's mixed up in this thing?" Helen asked.

"I'm sure of it now. There's something about him that just doesn't ring
true."

There was little conversation in the cab during their fast ride to the
director's apartment and they all went up together after Curt had paid
the taxi bill.

Insistent ringing of the bell failed to bring an answer and at last they
turned away, their hearts heavy with despair.

"I'm going to report this to the nearest police station," said Curt.
"You girls might just as well go back to your hotel. There's nothing
further you can do."

"But we seem so helpless," groaned Helen.

"We're just exactly that," growled Curt as he signalled two cabs, one
for the girls and the other for himself. "I'll phone you the minute I
get any word of good news."

Janet and Helen said little on their way back to the hotel, for a
numbing sort of ache had taken possession of their bodies. After days of
fatiguing rehearsals, the broadcast appeared doomed. Helen cried a
little as their cab swung onto Broadway and the bright lights of the
Great White Way blazed in their faces.

At the hotel Janet stopped at the desk to inquire about mail and the
clerk handed her a telegram.

"It's for you," she said, handing the message to Helen, who tore it open
with fingers that were none too steady.

"Oh, this is awful," she groaned. "Dad and Mother are comi