WAITING
Eight o’clock came and still no Irene. By nine o’clock Judy was in
tears. She felt that something dreadful must have happened and
suggested calling up hospitals to see if there had been any accidents.
After the calls were completed Dale returned to the kitchen and stood
looking at the dinner.
“You might as well eat some of the chicken,” Mary suggested. She placed
it on a platter and carried it up to the roof garden, but they ate only
a little, cut from underneath where it wouldn’t show. Then they left
the table as it was, waiting for Irene.
The yellow candles burned lower and lower. Finally they flickered and
went out. Pauline gave a little start, but Judy sank back in her chair
shaking with sobs.
“I—I’m not superstitious,” she blurted out. “I’m trying to be sensible
about it, but do you think it’s sensible just to wait?”
“There isn’t anything else to do unless we notify the police, and then,
if she had just been to a movie, wouldn’t she have the laugh on us?”
“But, Pauline, she isn’t thoughtless.”
“I could tell that,” Dale put in seriously. “She’s a mighty fine little
girl. I know how you feel, Judy. I’ll stand by. Didn’t Irene and I wait
up that night for you—and nothing had happened except that you took a
walk?”
Dale was comforting. It was nice to have him there, especially when
Judy knew that he was as interested as she in Irene’s safe return. But
Judy could not help thinking of Farringdon and the enthusiasm with
which the boys there would help her if they only knew.
Pauline thought of Farringdon too.
“Maybe Irene didn’t like it here in New York and went home,” she
suggested.
“But the house is empty,” Judy objected. “There really isn’t any home
in Farringdon for her to go back to. She doesn’t even know where they
are going to live when her father is well again. He’s in a sanitarium
now, and I hate to notify him if there’s any other way. It really would
be better to notify the police.”
“I guess you’re right,” Dale agreed. “If she isn’t home by midnight we
might try it. Things do happen—and especially to pretty girls,” he
added gravely.
It was five minutes to twelve when footsteps were finally heard outside
the door. Dale started to his feet, and Judy rushed toward the door,
then halted with a cry of disappointment as she recognized the now
familiar, “Hit’s Oliver, Miss.”
Pauline opened the door and urged him to come in.
“Irene isn’t home yet, and Mr. Meredith was waiting,” she explained.
“Did you happen to see her?”
“Well, let me think a minute.” The English servant passed his fingers
through his thinning hair. “Indeed, yes, Miss Pauline, I did see her
when the post came this morning. She stood hin the vestibule reading a
letter.”
“Did she seem worried, as if it were bad news?”
The man shook his head. “Indeed, she seemed quite ’appy over hit. She
went out a bit later ’umming a tune, ‘De de-de da de. Da de da. Da de
dum’—like that.”
He had given a crude imitation of the first notes of _Golden Girl_.
“She was very fond of that song,” Dale remarked after Oliver had left.
He was helping the girls with their wraps preparatory to calling at the
police station.
Again Judy thought about the papers. Could their disappearance and
Irene’s, in some way, be connected? She mentioned the possibility to
Dale but he thought it unlikely.
“At any rate we know Irene didn’t take them, and when we make our
report to the police we had better leave the papers entirely out of it.”
“And the name ‘Joy Holiday’?” Pauline questioned.
“Yes, for the present. We want to do all we can to save her from
embarrassment until we have an explanation. I feel sure that, whatever
it is, it will be—like Irene—satisfactory.”
“I’m glad you believe in her, Dale,” Judy said. She hoped, with all her
heart, that Irene would prove herself worthy of his loyalty.
At the police station the sergeant on night duty at the desk did not
take their story very seriously. He had a great many such cases, he
explained, most of which solved themselves. His questions, however,
suggested terrifying possibilities. Did she have any enemies, any
rejected suitors, any hostile relatives? Was she wearing any valuable
jewels? How much money did she have in her purse?
Judy thought it was about ten dollars.
“Ten dollars could take that girl a long way,” the officer said
significantly. “What about publicity on the case? We broadcast a
general alarm for missing persons every evening over the radio.”
Undecided, the girls appealed to Dale. “What do you think?”
“That’s another day. If she’s not home by then, by all means, yes.
Anything to find her.”
“We’ll do our best for you. I’ll assign the case to the Detective
Bureau right away, but be sure and telephone at once when she comes
home. And take my word for it, she’ll show up before morning,” the
sergeant prophesied as they turned to go.
“He probably thinks she’s only out on a party,” Pauline said later.
“But he doesn’t know Irene,” Judy reminded her. “She’s not the kind of
girl police officers are used to dealing with.”
“You bet she isn’t,” Dale agreed fervently. He promised to be back as
soon as it was daylight and urged the girls to try and get a little
rest in the meantime. Judy surprised him a few hours later by
announcing that she intended to spend the day at the office.
“Emily Grimshaw may know something about this,” she explained. “At
least I intend to find out all there is to know about this Joy Holiday
person. If there really is someone who looks exactly like Irene it
might get her into a good deal of trouble.”
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