about it. I haven’t heard from Nancy for almost a month. You see, that’s
why I ran out of money. My parents naturally didn’t want me to carry too
much cash with me, so they arranged to send regular monthly checks to me
at the cities I was supposed to visit. As soon as the checks came to the
hotel, Nancy would send them to me in New York, I would sign them and
mail them back, and Nancy would cash them in Europe. That way, the bank
markings on the backs of the checks wouldn’t be from New York, but from
Paris, or Milan or Rome or wherever Nancy was. Then Nancy would send me
a money order. The whole process only took about a week by air mail, and
it worked fine for a while.”
“It sounds complicated, but it makes sense,” Peggy said. “That is, as
much sense as it could make, once you had decided to do a foolish thing.
But what went wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Paula repeated miserably. “All of a sudden the money
stopped coming, and I didn’t get any letters from Nancy. At that point,
I didn’t know what to do. I’m convinced that Nancy either must have had
an accident, or else she’s ill, because I know that I can trust her. She
must be unable to send mail. I’m scared! I would have quit the show and
gone to Europe to find out, but by then I didn’t have any money left. My
father’s London office probably could locate her right away, but I
didn’t want to call my parents and tell them, because then no good at
all would have come of the whole affair. I just kept hoping each day
that I’d hear from Nancy. And meanwhile, opening night was coming
closer, and I thought that if I could just hold out until then—and until
I saw the notices in the papers—I could tell my parents, and maybe
they’d understand.”
“Well, maybe so,” Peggy said, “but, to tell you the truth, Paula, I
doubt it. They’ll surely understand your desire to prove yourself, but I
can’t imagine that they’ll appreciate the way you chose to do it.”
Paula nodded, looking unhappier every minute.
“What do you think I ought to do, Peggy?”
“I think you ought to call them right now and tell them you’re all
right. Then you can explain what you’ve done, and see what they say.”
“No! No, Peggy! I know you’re right, but I also know what they’d do!
They would come right to New York, and they’re unable to travel anywhere
without being recognized and followed by reporters and photographers.
And once the newspapers get hold of a story like this, it’ll be all over
the place, and when opening night is over, I’ll still not know whether I
was good or not—or if I made a splash because of my name and my
publicity.”
“But you can’t keep them worrying any longer!” Peggy exclaimed.
“It’s not much longer, Peggy,” Paula pleaded. “We open in three
days—just three more days! Then I’ll tell them!”
“I think you’re doing the wrong thing,” Peggy said, “but I suppose
there’s no way I can force you to do otherwise. Of course ... I can
always call them myself, but I’d rather you did it.”
“Please, Peggy! Promise me you won’t do that!” Paula begged.
“I ... I’ll think it over,” Peggy said. “I don’t want to make any
promises before I think.”
Both girls sat in unhappy silence for what seemed like a long time.
“Paula,” Peggy began after a while, “I hope you’ll forgive me for—”
“Of course,” Paula interrupted. “There’s nothing to forgive. I know you
were doing it for my own good. And if it hadn’t been for you—”
Peggy cut her off with an impatient nod. “Please don’t thank me for
that,” she said. “As long as you know I was just trying to help. And all
I want to know now is that we can keep on being friends.”
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Paula said solemnly, “and I
don’t know why you even want to have anything to do with someone who’s
acted as selfishly and inconsiderately as I have.”
“It’s because I want to meet your famous parents!” Peggy said, laughing.
For a moment Paula was taken aback, then she too burst out laughing. The
surface strain of the meeting was broken, and in a much lighter mood,
the two girls left the apartment for dinner and the night’s rehearsal.
But Peggy knew that it was only the surface that was smooth. Underneath,
she still felt the strain of the last hour—of the last weeks. She had
been asked to give her promise to Paula, and she had not done so. The
decision was still to be made, and until it was, Peggy knew that she
would not have a moment’s peace.
XIII
A Decision
During rehearsal that night, and afterward, Peggy managed to have as
little contact with Paula as possible. She felt that they were both
talked out on the subject by now, and any further conversation would
only serve to confuse the issue, rather than clarify it.
Shortly after midnight, when Mal dismissed the cast, Peggy, Amy, and
Greta made a quick and unobtrusive exit and hurried back to the Gramercy
Arms to discuss the matter with May Berriman.
May had been expecting a meeting this evening, and was waiting for the
girls in the huge and friendly kitchen downstairs. Hot chocolate
perfumed the air, and a tray of warm, freshly made cookies was set out
on the long sawbuck table.
When the girls were seated, and the chocolate had been poured, Peggy
repeated what Paula had told her. She finished by telling of Paula’s
request that nobody contact her parents until after opening night.
“And did you agree?” May Berriman asked.
“No,” Peggy said uneasily. “I couldn’t. But I didn’t say that I would
call them either. I told her that I would have to think it over.”
“What have you decided?” May asked, in a voice like a conscience.
“... I haven’t really come to a decision yet, May,” Peggy said. “I’ve
been thinking about it all evening.”
“Amy? Greta? What do you think?” May Berriman pursued.
The girls shook their heads and looked at each other.
“It seems to me,” the old actress said with slow dignity, “that Peggy
made her decision some days ago, even before the whole story was known.”
“What do you mean?” Peggy asked.
“I mean that I remember you saying that people were more important than
plays. And that, I presume, goes for careers, too. People, and people’s
feelings, are the most important thing in the world. I think that you’ve
already decided to call Paula’s parents.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Peggy answered. “Even though I agree that
people and their feelings are the most important thing. You see, I have
to consider Paula’s feelings, too, don’t I?”
“No,” May Berriman said firmly. “She’s been considering her own feelings
long enough, and all of you have done nothing but help her to continue
her foolishness. Maybe it’s because of my age, but I can’t consider her
feelings anywhere near as important as the feelings of her parents. They
haven’t heard from her for a month. The checks they sent haven’t been
cashed. They probably are frightened to death, and I wouldn’t be
surprised if they had the police forces in half the countries of Europe
searching for Paula. I think it’s time somebody put a stop to it.”
The girls considered what May had said, and silently sipped their
chocolate. Nobody cared to say anything, Amy and Greta each having
decided individually that the final decision must come from Peggy.
It was a long time until the silence was broken.
“All right, May,” Peggy said. “I can’t argue with you, because I know
you’re right. There’s nothing to do but call them, and now’s as good a
time as any.”
She glanced at the tall grandfather clock in the corner. “It’s not quite
ten o’clock in California now,” she said. “I’ll go upstairs and call.”
“But what if it’s an unlisted phone number?” Amy asked.
“Oh-oh,” said Peggy. “You’re right, of course, Amy. A famous star like
Stacy Blair would never have a listed number. She’d be bothered to
death.” She sighed impatiently. “Well, I’ll just have to send her a
wire.”
“Wait a minute, Peggy,” May Berriman said suddenly. “I know someone
who’s a close friend of the Andrews, and she’s right here in New York.
Let me call her. She’s bound to know their number.”
May went up the stairs with surprising agility while the three girls
waited in excited silence. She soon returned waving a slip of paper and
announced dramatically, “I’ve got it!”
Peggy stood up and crossed the room. May handed her the slip on which
the number was written. At the foot of the stairs, Peggy paused and
said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please wait up for me, will you?”
“You couldn’t get us to bed now at gunpoint!” Greta said.
Peggy went upstairs and put through the call. The Andrews telephone was
answered by a woman.
“Andrews residence,” she said crisply.
“I’d like to speak to Mrs. Andrews,” Peggy said.
“Who is calling, please?”
“My name is Peggy Lane. She doesn’t know me, but I’m a friend of her
daughter’s, and I have some information about her that I know Mrs.
Andrews would want to hear.”
“About Miss Paula? Tell me! Is she all right? Where—?”
“Yes, yes, she’s all right,” Peggy said, somewhat impatiently. “Now,
please, won’t you call Mrs. Andrews to the phone?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Lane,” the voice at the other end said, “but Mr. and
Mrs. Andrews aren’t here.”
“When do you expect them back?” Peggy asked.
“I don’t know. They’re in New York now, on their way to Europe, if they
haven’t left already. I believe they plan to catch a plane tonight.”
“Tonight! But ... what airline? How can I reach them if they haven’t
left yet?”
“You might try the hotel in New York,” the maid said. “They had to stop
over for plane connections, but I don’t know for how long. They always
stay at the Plaza, and you might get them there.”
“Thank you,” Peggy said hurriedly. “I’ll call them right—”
“But wait!” the maid interrupted. “Tell me about Miss Paula! Where is
she? Has she had an accident? What—?”
“She’s right here in New York!” Peggy cried. “And I can’t talk more now!
I have to stop her parents before they fly off to Europe! Thank
you—good-by!”
Peggy hurriedly hung up before the anxious woman could continue her
questioning. Swiftly thumbing through the phone book, she picked out the
number of the Plaza and dialed.
“I’m sorry,” a smooth clerkish voice answered, “but Mr. and Mrs. Andrews
have already checked out.”
“When?” Peggy asked. “What time?”
“About a half hour ago,” the voice said calmly. “I believe they left for
the airport.”
“I know,” Peggy said excitedly. “But which airline? Do you know, or is
there any way you could find out?”
“One moment, please,” the voice replied. “Perhaps the bell captain
knows.”
There was a clatter as the phone was placed on a marble surface, and
Peggy waited nervously. In the background, she heard the dim noises of
the hotel lobby, the thin sound of a dance tune, occasional small
voices. For what seemed an endless stretch of time, she waited. At last,
when it seemed that her nerves could stand not one moment more, she
heard the phone being picked up.
“The bell captain says they were going to International Airways
Terminal, miss,” the helpful voice said. “I’m sorry it took so much
time, but I checked the doorman as well, to see if he overheard the taxi
directions. Fortunately he did.”
“Thank you,” Peggy said fervently. “Thank you very much!” She rang off
and then promptly dialed Randy.
A sleepy voice answered at the seventh ring. “Wha’?” Randy said.
“Randy, it’s Peggy. I’m sorry to wake you, but don’t stop to ask why.
Just pull yourself together fast!”
“All right. Okay. I’m awake now,” Randy said. “What’s the trouble,
Peggy?”
“I’ll explain later, when there’s time,” she said. “Right now, we
haven’t a minute to lose. I want you to get dressed as fast as you can,
and come right up here with the car. Make sure you have plenty of gas.
I’ll be waiting.”
“But ... all right.” Randy said. “You don’t sound as if you’re kidding.
I’ll see you in about ten minutes!” He hung up.
Peggy ran down to the kitchen.
“I’m afraid we’ve talked about things for too long,” she said dismally,
“and acted a little too late. If only I had made up my mind an hour
sooner!”
“What’s wrong?” Amy asked.
Peggy explained what had happened. “Now they’re on their way to
Idlewild,” she concluded, “and I don’t know if we stand a chance of
reaching them before they take off. Randy’s on his way here now, and
we’re going to try to get there in time, even if it means getting a
police escort or the worst speeding tickets they hand out! Mr. and Mrs.
Andrews have over half an hour’s head start.”
“I think you have a good chance of making it,” May said calmly, “without
exceeding the speed limits. If you are stopped by a policeman, you’ll
lose more time than if Randy drives properly. Besides, their head start
isn’t as great as you think it is. The airlines always make passengers
arrive at least a half-hour before flight time, and most people allow
even more time than that, in case of traffic delays. Still ... I admit,
you haven’t got too much time to stand around talking.”
“Randy said he’d be here in ten minutes,” Peggy said, “and it’s just
about that now. I’d better go. Keep your fingers crossed.” She darted up
the stairs.
The two girls and May Berriman looked at each other.
“I suggest,” May Berriman said with an air of finality, “that we switch
from cocoa to coffee. I think it’s going to be a long night, and I, for
one, have no intention of trying to sleep until it’s all over.”
XIV
Race Against Time
Peggy struggled into her coat and stepped out onto the front stoop of
the Gramercy Arms just in time to see Randy’s sleek old English
automobile turn the corner and pull up with a squeal of brakes in front
of the steps.
She ran down the steps, wrenched open the door and slid in next to
Randy.
“Idlewild Airport,” she gasped. “As fast as you can without getting
stopped!”
“But—”
“No but’s,” she interrupted. “Let’s go!”
Randy put the big car smoothly into motion, turned east and headed for
the Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive.
“We’re going to the International Airways Building,” Peggy said. “Do you
know where it is?”
“Yes,” Randy answered. “And now that you’re settled down and have your
breath back, do you mind telling me what’s happening?”
“It’s Paula,” Peggy said. “Paula’s mother is Stacy Blair, the movie
star, and she’s going to Europe to hunt for Paula because she doesn’t
know she’s right here in New York and we have to stop them before the
plane leaves, and—”
“Wait a minute,” Randy interrupted. “Who thinks who’s in Europe and whom
do we have to stop? You mean that Paula’s going to Europe to find her
mother, or Paula’s mother is going to Europe to find Paula?”
“That’s right,” Peggy said. “I mean, the last thing you said is right.
Paula’s mother and father are on their way to Idlewild now to catch a
plane for Europe. They think Paula’s there. It’s simple.”
“It’s the most complicated piece of simplicity I’ve ever heard,” Randy
commented. “Now why don’t you start from the beginning and tell it
slowly and clearly? It’s not going to affect the time it takes to get to
Idlewild, so you might as well relax.”
Of course it wasn’t simple, as Peggy realized once she tried to explain
the whole affair. It was necessary to tell Randy how she found out about
Paula, and what Paula had been trying to accomplish, and how she had
found out that Paula’s parents were on their way. By the time she had
finished telling it, they had left Manhattan behind them, and were
speeding along the express highways of Long Island.
Every so often, coming to the top of one of the low rolling hills that
make up the gigantic sandbar that is Long Island, Peggy could see the
lights and towers of Manhattan, seeming never to drop much farther
behind. She had, for a moment, the nightmare sensation of running,
running, running with every possible effort, and getting nowhere at all.
Fortunately, the highways were nearly deserted at this late hour, and
Randy was able to make good time. The powerful engine under the long
hood of the big English car purred with a low, well-tuned sound as they
raced through the night, past the darkened windows of houses and garden
apartments. The speedometer needle quivered at the sixty mark, and Peggy
kept glancing nervously behind her, expecting at any moment to see the
flashing red light and hear the warning siren of a pursuing police
patrol car, but none came.
Once they passed a lurking police car, waiting with darkened lights to
catch a speeder, but Randy’s driving, though fast, was steady and
unobtrusive. The patrol car stayed parked in the field alongside the
road.
Finally, Peggy made out the searchlights of the airport, far ahead of
them, and then the general glow in the sky that marked the landing
strips, public buildings, lounges, and airline ticket offices.
As they approached the airport, Randy broke the silence. “I’ll drive
straight to the International Airways Building,” he said, “and I’ll put
the car in the employees’ parking lot. The regular parking lot takes a
little more time, especially if we have to wait for a ticket. We can go
right in from the employees’ lot, and worry about getting a ticket
later.”
“How do we go about finding Mr. and Mrs. Andrews when we get there?”
Peggy asked. “We don’t even know what plane they’re taking.”
“We shouldn’t have any trouble finding out about that,” Randy said. “I’m
sure that even International Airways doesn’t have more than one plane
bound for Europe at this time of night. We’ll look at the flight
schedule board, and then head for the gate. At least there’s no problem
about recognizing Paula’s mother when we do find her. She has one of the
most famous faces in the world, I guess.”
By now they were on the approach road to Idlewild Airport, which looked
like something out of a science-fiction movie. The highways curved in
symmetrical patterns, crossing over and under each other, and arched
over with slim, modern lamps. The airline terminal buildings, brightly
lighted, were each different from the other, and different, too, from
any buildings that Peggy had ever seen. One looked like a giant
glass-and-steel mushroom; others, in the most modern shapes, defied
simple description. The International Airways Building, one of the
largest, was a long, square, crystal box, with soaring bridges and
terraces connecting it to other buildings.
Randy drove under one of these bridges past the front entrance of the
building, swung sharply to the right, and pulled the car into the
parking lot reserved for pilots. Before anyone could come to question
them, he and Peggy were out of the car, running for the entrance.
Inside, in sharp contrast to the deserted highways and sleeping
landscape that they had just roared through, the terminal was alive with
hurrying people. Loud-speakers were crackling with announcements,
porters carried baggage in all directions, people stood in knots waiting
for planes to leave or for planes to arrive. Peggy’s head swam with the
excitement.
“This way!” Randy said, and grabbed her by the hand. He led her through
a maze of people to a counter at the far side of the room. Behind the
counter was a smartly uniformed young woman posting information on a
large blackboard.
“Miss,” Randy called, “could you please tell me if there’s a plane
leaving for Europe—or scheduled to leave for Europe—in the next few
minutes?”
The girl smiled, stepped away from the blackboard which she had been
obscuring, and pointed. “Take a look,” she said. “One left for Ireland
about five minutes ago. Another takes off for Lisbon in ten minutes.
Rome, fifteen minutes. Paris ... let’s see ... not for another
half-hour. That enough for you?”
“Oh dear!” Peggy said. “We’ll never find them this way! Miss, we’re
looking for some people who are probably scheduled to leave on one of
those planes, but we don’t know which. Perhaps you can help us?”
“The General Agent has all the passenger lists,” the girl said. “You’ll
find his office on the third floor, and I’m sure that you can get the
information you want there.”
“But....” Peggy began.
“It’s quite simple,” the girl said efficiently. “Take the elevator to
your left, and the General Agent will have your friends paged on the
public address system....”
“Paged!” Peggy gasped.
“Oh, boy, are we stupid!” Randy said. “We should have done that in the
first place, instead of taking this mad dash out here! Or we should have
done that, too, or had the girls do it....”
“But there’s no time for that now!” Peggy said. “They might be boarding
a plane this very minute!” She turned again to the now puzzled girl.
“Maybe you’ve seen them,” she began. “We’re looking for—”
“I’m sorry,” the girl said primly, “but I’m not allowed to give any
information about passengers, even if I do know their names. Which I
never do.”
“We’re looking for Mr. and Mrs. Dean Andrews,” Peggy went on, ignoring
the girl’s disclaimer. “She’s Stacy Blair, the famous movie—”
“Stacy Blair!” the girl exclaimed. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the
first place? Of course I’ve seen her! How could anyone miss? Why, I
never—”
“Has she left yet?” Randy interrupted.
“Not yet,” the girl said, annoyed at being cut off. “She’s scheduled to
take the Lisbon plane that leaves in eight minutes. But if you’re
looking for an autograph, you don’t have a chance. I tried myself, and
she didn’t even look at me. She’s in some sort of a bad mood, and won’t
talk to people. A lot of the girls and passengers tried, but—”
“Lisbon! Gate fifteen!” Peggy read from the notice board. “Thanks!” she
called back to the uniformed girl as she and Randy hurried for the exit
that led to the passenger loading gates.
They dashed past the gate attendant with a hurried explanation that they
just had to see somebody off. Before he could stop them, they were
racing down the long corridor past the numbered passenger gates. Through
the broad windows, they could see a large jet plane, its door opened and
a boarding ramp being wheeled up to its side. Through the trap below the
plane, they saw luggage being loaded.
“That must be it!” Randy panted.
“Attention, please!” rasped the loud-speaker. “Your attention, please!
Flight number two-oh-seven for Lisbon now taking on passengers at gate
fifteen! Gate fifteen! Will all passengers for Lisbon please go to gate
fifteen....”
“Good!” Peggy gasped. “We’re ahead of them! All we have to do is wait at
the gate and we’re sure to see them!”
They slackened their pace somewhat, as they saw that nobody was at the
loading gate but a uniformed airline official who was waiting to inspect
the passengers’ tickets before letting them board. As they pulled up
breathlessly at the railing, the man smiled.
“You didn’t have to rush,” he said. “We’re just boarding now, and we
won’t be taking off for another ten minutes or so.”
“Oh, we’re not flying,” Peggy explained. “We just wanted to be here
first so that we wouldn’t miss some people we want to see.”
“Oh, seeing off some friends,” the uniformed man said. “You must really
be fond of them to come out at a late hour like this just for the fun of
waving good-by!”
“Well, you might say that,” Randy said, reluctant to give away the real
purpose of their visit.
“If you wait right here, you can’t miss them,” the man smiled. “In fact,
here come the first ones now.”
Looking down the long corridor, Peggy and Randy saw a knot of passengers
approaching at a leisurely pace. None of them seemed, even at this
distance, to be Stacy Blair. Peggy cast a puzzled look at Randy.
“They’ll probably be along in a minute or two,” he said reassuringly. “I
guess it’s only the new travelers who hurry to be the first on board.”
They stood quietly by as the passengers checked in, one by one, offering
their tickets for inspection to the uniformed official. As each
passenger passed through the gate, the inspector checked off his or her
name against a master list on his little standing desk.
Peggy watched with mounting alarm as name after name was checked off,
and still Paula’s parents did not appear. Catching her expression, the
airline official paused in his paperwork.
“Say,” he said, “you’re not waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone, are
you? Because if you are, I got word that they had canceled, and your
trip out here would be for nothing.”
“No,” Peggy said, “not Blackstone. Why?”
“Because everybody else is on board already!” he replied. “Sure you have
the right flight number?”
“I certainly hope so!” Peggy said. “Please, may I see your passenger
list?”
“Sure. Help yourself.” He moved aside from the desk to let her look.
At the top of the list stood the names of Mr. and Mrs. Dean Andrews.
“This is the right flight, all right,” Peggy said. “We’re waiting to see
Mr. and Mrs. Andrews—and they surely didn’t come on board!”