trains for their suburban homes.

Janet, Helen, and Curt Newsom walked slowly toward the elevators. The
corridor down which they walked was practically deserted for none of the
studios flanking it were in use. They entered the main lobby of the
World Broadcasting Company office. From a loudspeaker on the reception
desk came the voice of a world-famous crooner which Helen recognized
instantly.

"That's a program I'd like to see," she told Curt.

"Come on, then. Now that we are members of a radio company, we ought to
be able to crash the gates."

The cowboy star inquired the way to the proper studio and they turned
and walked down a long corridor to Studio A, the largest and most costly
of all of the broadcasting rooms of the World Company. It was like a
little theater, with sloping seats and a stage upon which the performers
worked before the microphone. At the back was a large orchestra, while
up to the front of the stage the famous crooner was singing into a
"mike."

"Why, he doesn't look at all like I thought he would," exclaimed Helen
as they peered through the plate glass windows which flanked one wall of
the studio. "He's much older."

"Many of us are disillusioned about our heroes and heroines," said Curt
quietly. "Let's eat. I'd like a steak."

"Sounds good to me," agreed Janet, and even Helen was willing to leave
the studio after another minute or two of gazing at the crooner.

They ate in a small but attractive restaurant off Sixth Avenue and after
a leisurely meal Curt hurried away to keep an appointment and Janet and
Helen, though tired from the long day's grind of rehearsals, strolled
over to Fifth Avenue to look into shop windows. After half an hour on
the avenue, they started back to their Times Square hotel, heading west
on one of New York's dark and little-frequented cross streets.

They were halfway down the long, dimly lit block when Helen seized
Janet's arm.

"Someone's following us!" she whispered.

Chapter Twenty-two

SHADOWED!

Despite Helen's whisper of warning, Janet never missed a stride. If
anything, she quickened her pace.

"Keep up with me," she replied, "and don't look around."

From somewhere behind Janet could hear steady footfalls that quickened
as they walked faster.

"Are you sure someone is following us?" asked Janet.

"Positive," replied Helen. "There was someone back of us on the avenue
and he turned onto this street right after we did."

"But it must