ting
Company. As they walked down Sixth Avenue they glanced aloft and far up
in the building a blaze of light shone from windows. Some company was
busy up there tonight, providing thousands of radio fans with drama or
music for their entertainment and they thrilled at the thought that
within a very short time, they, too, would be a part of the radio world.

Back in their rooms that night Janet glanced at the place beside the
typewriter where the manuscript had disappeared. She would have liked to
have telephoned Curt Newsom and told the lanky cowboy about the incident
but he had not mentioned where he was staying. She thought of
telephoning Mr. Adolphi, their radio director, but dismissed that for
she felt that he might think her foolish. Undoubtedly he had sent for
the manuscript.

They were up early the next morning, refreshed after a night of sound
sleep. A quick shower was followed by a rapid but thorough toilet and
they were ready for what they might have in store for them. They had
breakfast in the grill room which opened off the main lobby of their
hotel and then started for Radio City.

There was a touch of fall in the air and they walked briskly, pushing
through other hurrying throngs of men and women who were on their way to
work.

The elevator shot them up to the twenty-seventh floor in a dizzy,
breathless rush and they stepped out into the reception room. A page
took them to studio K and there were only two others there when they
entered--Ben Adolphi, their director, and Curt Newsom. The cowboy star
looked a little pale.

"Sick?" asked Janet.

Curt shook his head. "Not exactly, but I didn't sleep very well last
night. Too much noise here in the city. I'm going to move. My hotel's
right on Times Square."

"Why, we're staying there too," said Helen. "Our hotel is the
Dorchester. We slept fine."

"I'm staying there," replied Curt, "but I don't see how you slept. I
heard fire engines and police patrols and street cars and newsboys all
night. I might as well have been down in the subway trying to sleep on
an express train."

The radio director looked at Janet.

"Manuscript ready?" he asked.

Janet stared at him and he repeated the question.

"Haven't you got it?" she asked.

"Certainly not," he snapped, evidently a little provoked at what he
considered dull wits.

"But the maid at the hotel said someone from the studio called yesterday
afternoon for it. It's gone!"

"Certainly I didn't send