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.
[Illustration: One shadow suddenly detached itself from the rest]
“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?”
“Better not,” Peggy answered. “Someone may remember having seen it
there, and if it’s missing, it might give them the idea that somebody’s
been here. And we don’t want anyone to get ideas like that.”
Amy agreed reluctantly with the sense of Peggy’s argument, and shifted
her position. “No wonder Pip was so tired,” she whispered. “A whole
twelve hours of crouching like this must be a terrible thing to go
through! We’ve only been here for about fifteen minutes, and I’m
beginning to get pins and needles already.”
The next hour and a half, spent mostly in silence, and in trying to get
used to the cramped position beneath the stairs, passed by with terrible
slowness. Every so often, the roar of a truck would be heard in the
street, and the girls would grow tense, waiting for it to turn into the
alley. But it always went by, leaving an even deeper silence behind it.
“It’s almost time for Randy and Mal to come,” Peggy whispered. “I don’t
envy them their night, but I’ll sure be glad to get out of here!”
“So will—quiet! I hear another truck,” Amy said.
Quietly shifting into new positions of comparative comfort, the girls
held their breath and waited to hear the sound of the truck passing the
alley. But this one didn’t pass.
A bright beam of headlights swept down the alley and lighted up the
court as the truck turned in off the street.
“Those headlights!” Peggy whispered. “When they turn the corner into the
court, they’re bound to light up this whole stairway!”
“Just hope the driver doesn’t look this way!” Amy whispered in return.
But before the truck came into sight, the headlights were switched off,
and the driver came in under the soft glow of the parking lamps. The
truck was an ordinary-looking, box-body affair, a little shabby, dented,
and in need of both a washing and a paint job. Faded, once-gold letters
high up on its side read “O & O TRUCKING Co.” The forlorn appearance of
the truck was belied by the soft, powerful sound of its well-tuned
engine as it turned into the alley and was expertly backed up to the
loading platform.
Two men silently leaped out of the cab and carefully closed the doors.
Moving on rubber-soled shoes, they climbed onto the platform, unlocked
the rear doors of the truck and swung them back. A third man, holding a
rifle in his hand, stepped out of the truck.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “You get the stuff out, and I’ll keep watch.”
He jumped lightly down and stationed himself at the corner by the alley,
his rifle held ready, while the other men unlocked the elevator doors
and opened them.
They worked swiftly and quietly in the darkness, which was relieved only
by a very dim work light mounted in the truck body. By its pale glow,
Peggy and Amy saw only an anonymous series of boxes being transferred
from the truck to the elevator. There was no way to tell what they held
but, Peggy thought, it couldn’t have been anything legal—not if it had
to be loaded secretly at night and under an armed guard.
Thinking of the armed guard, she suddenly shivered with fright as a new
thought came to her. The boys! Randy and Mal! What if they should choose
this moment to make their appearance? The man with the rifle stood
motionless and poised for action. Peggy was sure he would not hesitate
to shoot anyone who walked into that alley. Biting her lip and holding
tightly to the steel support of the stair, she prayed that Randy’s
engine would give him more trouble, or that they would run into heavy
traffic or want to stop for dinner or ... or anything! Anything to keep
them from coming here until the truckmen had finished their business and
gone.
At least she was not kept long in suspense. The men were quick and
efficient, and their cargo was not a very large one. In a very few
minutes, the elevator was loaded and, with a smooth whir not at all like
the Academy elevators, it ascended to the theater. It returned not long
after, emptied of its crates, and the workmen shut off the mechanism,
swung the doors closed, and clicked the lock on them.
The watchman with the rifle nodded his approval, climbed back into the
rear of the truck and once more allowed himself to be locked in. Without
a word, the truckmen took their places in the cab, soundlessly shut the
doors, and the battered truck swung smoothly into the courtyard, backed
up, and turned down the alley.
It seemed like the first time in ten minutes that Peggy had breathed.
“I was frightened to death that the boys would come!” she said.
“That’s all I could think of, too,” Amy whispered in a shaky voice.
“Now all I want is for them to come fast!” Peggy said. “We’ve got all
the evidence we need for the police, I think, and I just want to get out
of here!”
“If we do get this theater for our play,” Amy said, “I wonder if I’ll
feel good about it. I’m afraid I’ll never feel quite right about this
place after tonight!”
“Oh, we’ll make it all over,” Peggy said with enthusiasm. “We’ll put
bright lights in the little marquee, and we’ll put up lighted theater
posters on the walls, and I think we could paint the wall behind the
loading platform white with gilt trim on the pillars on each side of the
elevator. Then, if we can find a fountain for the court, the way I
suggested before, and maybe a few stone benches, we—Oh!” She gave a
start of fright as a male voice laughed close to her ear.
“Just like a woman!” Randy said. “Supposed to be keeping a lookout, and
you’re decorating an alley! But where are Pip and Tom? And what are you
doing here? And—”
“We’ll tell you everything over coffee,” Peggy said. “Oh, Randy! It’s
all over! We’ve got our crooks—and they’re crooks all right—and we’ve
got our theater, I’m sure—and I’m so glad you didn’t come ten minutes
earlier, and.... Oh, let’s get out of here!”
“Let’s,” Mal said. “This is hardly my idea of a place for a date! Amy,
take my arm. I have a feeling you need it. And Randy, get a firm grip on
Peggy, if you please.”
“Stop directing, Mal,” Randy laughed. “I think I’ve already written this
scene quite nicely, and the hero has the heroine well in hand!”
XVIII
_Forecast—Fair!_
Seated at the desk in her room, Peggy selected a fresh sheet of paper.
She was on the fifth page of a letter to her friend Jean Wilson.
So you see I was right. There _were_ crooks using the theater all the
time. The next day, Amy and I told the police what we had seen in the
alley, and I think they were really pleased, even though they did bawl
us out for poking around in police affairs. At that, they admitted that
if we had come to them the first time with nothing but suspicions, they
probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Anyway, they put a
guard under the stairs and stationed some more policemen around, and two
nights later they caught the gang.
It seems they were hijackers, which means that they held up trucks on
the road and stole valuable cargo from them. They were using the theater
as a warehouse for the stolen goods until they could dispose of them in
whatever way crooks get rid of stolen goods. When the police searched
the place, they found thousands and thousands of dollars’ worth of furs
and silverware and liquor and appliances and all sorts of things. The
cartons that we saw them unload the night we were there turned out to
contain nylon stockings, and they were worth about twenty thousand
dollars, which is an awful lot of nylon stockings.
The police say we’re going to get a big reward from the insurance
people. The boys wanted to give it all to me, but I refused it. I’m
going to give it to the players’ group, which really means to Randy and
Mal, to rent the theater on a long-term lease and to fix it up properly.
They said once before that they didn’t want to be in the real estate
business, but I think that they’re changing their minds about that.
The police got in touch with the owner of the building, who is retired
and has been living in Florida for a long time. He didn’t know anything
about what was going on in the theater and was quite grateful that we
had gotten his crooked tenants out of the place. It seems he has been so
long away from the New York real-estate scene, that he didn’t know his
property was in demand as a theater. He says it hasn’t been used as one
for over fifty years! Of course, he could get more money renting it as a
theater than as a warehouse, but he says he doesn’t need more money, and
we need a theater. He has offered it to us on a ten-year lease for the
same rent he was getting before.