anies are also anxious for it and if
our dress rehearsal Saturday night fails to meet the approval of the Ace
officials, we may lose the contract, which would then go to one of our
rivals. We are none too sure but what they have certain people within
our own staff who might sell them some of our secrets about this
program."

"I know the situation," said Janet. "I'm tired, but I'll keep on until I
either go to sleep or am through."

Mr. McGregor smiled approvingly and Jim Hill felt like shouting.

"That's splendid," said the continuity chief. "I'm going to send Jim
along to bed. He's to report here early tomorrow morning to start the
rewriting of your story. You keep on as long as you can. When you are
through you can lock the script in the right hand drawer of Jim's desk.
Here is a key for you and Jim has one already."

The head of the continuity department departed and Jim Hill lingered on
for a minute or two.

"Want some more lunch?" he asked.

Janet, who had turned back to her typewriter, shook her head.

"How about a cup of coffee to keep you awake a while longer? I don't
want you to go to sleep before you get this material hashed out for me."

"Go on, Jim. I'll get along all right. It won't take long now if I'm not
interrupted."

Jim Hill took the hint and departed quietly and Janet continued with her
work. It was something she thoroughly enjoyed doing. This writing was
creating something out of whole cloth. Of course it would have to have a
special revision by Jim tomorrow to work it into the script, but when it
finally went on the air there would still be a lot of her material in
the radio play.

Janet worked for more than half an hour and then leaned back in her
chair for her arms ached and her eyes were blurred.

The studio was strangely silent. From somewhere at a distance came the
soft strains of an orchestra but there was no sound in the corridor
where the writer's offices were located.

Janet picked up the sheets of copy she had written and scanned the
material. She smiled a bit as she read it and admitted that it did real
well.

Placing the sheets back on the desk, she inserted a fresh page of copy
paper into the typewriter. She would be through in a few more minutes.
She glanced at her wrist watch before she started in again. It was
eleven-forty. By midnight she would be through.

Janet was about to resume her work when a queer sensation started at the
base of her spine and shot up her b