CHAPTER VIII
THE MISSING POEMS
The agent’s collapse had unnerved Judy more than a little, and it wassome time before she settled herself to her work. Dale had left but notbefore promising to see Irene safely home.
“She probably won’t want to come near the office again,” Judy thought.“Poor Irene! I wonder what made Emily Grimshaw act up and scare her so.”
But this was no time for deductions, Judy knew, when so much workremained to be done—twice as much now. And there was no use sitting incomfort on the sofa, either. Alone, she could group the poems better ather own desk.
She lowered the typewriter until a place was clear above it and thenwent for the pile of manuscripts. She looked on the table back of thesofa, but they were not there.
“That’s queer,” she thought. “I’m sure we left them right on the cornerof that table. I saw Irene when she put _Golden Girl_ back, and it wasright on top. But maybe she moved them afterwards.”
Next Judy looked on the sofa and under all three cushions. She feltbeneath the arms, then got down on her hands and knees and looked underthe sofa on the floor. She even lifted the rug and looked under that.
“What _are_ you doing?” Emily Grimshaw inquired, looking up with ascowl.
“Hunting for something,” Judy answered vaguely. She was not ready totell her employer that the manuscripts were missing, not after havingbeen told how valuable they were. Perhaps, absent-mindedly she hadplaced them in one of the drawers of her own desk.
After another ten minutes of Judy’s frantic searching the agent’spatience was exhausted.
“Sit down, young lady, and tell me why you are turning my office upsidedown in this ridiculous fashion. As if I hadn’t enough worries!”
“I’m sorry, Miss Grimshaw,” Judy replied contritely. “But the poems yougave me—the originals, I mean—they seem to have—disappeared.”
“Disappeared! Stuff and nonsense!” the old lady snorted. “Like allgirls, you’ve been careless, and misplaced them.”
“I’ve looked everywhere except in your desk, and they couldn’t bethere.”
“They couldn’t, eh? We shall see.”
Soon the agent had her own desk in worse confusion than Judy’s, but nopapers could she find. She poured herself another drink from the bottleand regarded Judy with a wild light in her eyes.
“Joy Holiday took them! That’s what happened! I knew that girl was herefor a reason.”
After that there was a long silence during which Emily Grimshaw satmoving her lips but making no sound. It was uncanny! Judy longed forfive o’clock and freedom from her queer employer.
No one had entered the office; of that Judy felt sure. The sofa wasopposite the door. No one could have passed it and taken the pile ofpapers from the table without being seen. And no one could enterwithout a key. The door locked from the inside, and Judy never left thecatch off except when Emily Grimshaw was there. That had been heremployer’s instructions, and she had followed them to the letter.
What, then, could she mean by saying Joy Holiday took the poems? Whyhad she collapsed the moment Irene looked up at her, and who or whathad taken the pile of manuscripts?
Judy shivered. Would it be stretching the truth to say that somestrange, invisible force had been at work in the office that day?Irene, timid, lovable little girl that she was, couldn’t possiblyfrighten a big capable woman like Emily Grimshaw. She must have seensomething else!
Without meaning to, Judy glanced over her shoulder. Then a thought cameto her that seemed all at once amusing. Dale Meredith had said thereweren’t enough mysteries in real life. Wait till she told him this one!A writer of detective stories ought to be interested. He might evenhave a theory, perhaps from his own novels, that would work out asolution.
Or perhaps Dale knew what had happened to the poetry. He didn’t seemdishonest, but if he refused to show an interest or showed too great aninterest.... How was it that people told the guilty party?
These questions ran through Judy’s mind as she sat before hertypewriter. Mysteries intrigued her. But no mystery on earth would beworth the solving if it lessened her trust in people she loved.
“There has to be some way to get Irene out of this,” she said toherself. “Whatever Emily Grimshaw saw, she mustn’t be allowed to accuseIrene of taking the poetry.”
Then it occurred to Judy that, ordinarily, she would be under suspicionas well. Instead, Emily Grimshaw suspected someone named Joy Holiday.It sounded like an hallucination.
When closing time came, Judy walked in the direction of Gramercy Parkand arrived at Dr. Faulkner’s house just as Pauline was leaving througha side door.
“Where are you going?” Judy asked in surprise. Usually Pauline wouldnot be going out just at dinner time.
“I told Mary I’d not be home,” Pauline replied, “and you had better notbe, either. Dale Meredith’s up on the roof garden with Irene, and wewould be intruding if we thrust ourselves upon them.”
“Why? What makes you think that?”
“Just what I overheard.”
“Perhaps you didn’t understand,” Judy attempted. “There’s a brand-newmystery for us to solve. I’m sure Dale Meredith wants to hear about it.Something happened in the office today, and Irene was dreadfully upset.He may have been trying to comfort her.”
Pauline laughed bitterly. “A queer way of doing it—calling her a sweetgirl, holding her hand and saying something about ‘another roof garden... peppy orchestra, floor as smooth as wax ... and you to dancewith....’ He said more, too, but that was all I heard. You see what amistake I almost made! Of course he wants Irene to himself. He won’t beinterested in your mystery now—only in Irene’s glorious eyes and herbright hair. I guess she knew what she was doing when she wore thatparty dress.”
“You wouldn’t feel that way if you knew how little pleasure Irene hashad in her life,” Judy said. “My brother is the only boy who ever paidany attention to her, and he never took her out alone.”
“That doesn’t excuse her for dolling up on purpose to attract DaleMeredith.”
“Why, she didn’t even know he was going to come into the office! Shedressed up only because it pleased her to look pretty. It pleased me,too,” Judy added warmly. “Do you think they have really gone outtogether, Pauline?”
“I’m sure of it. And she doesn’t deserve it after scheming to meet him.I’ll never quite forgive her, and you’re a little bit to blame, too. Itwasn’t just the thing to go off and find yourself a position when youare really my guest.”
“I suppose it wasn’t,” Judy admitted, feeling sorry for Pauline inspite of the attitude she had taken. She couldn’t be blamed too much.It promised to be another one of these eternal triangles. Judy thoughtof Peter Dobbs and Arthur Farringdon-Pett at home. They both liked herand were still good friends to each other. She thought of Horace andHoney and Irene. One triangle made straight, only to be converted intoanother and more puzzling one. Why couldn’t Dale Meredith take out bothPauline and Irene, she wondered. She would even be willing to tag alongif it would help. But tonight she would tag along with Pauline andsympathize.
They had hot chocolate and sandwiches in a drug store and called ittheir dinner. After that they walked uptown as far as Central Park andthen back again in time to see the last show at a near-by movie.
“No need to hurry,” Judy said. “Irene is sure to be home late if sheand Dale Meredith went out to dance.”
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The Yellow Phantom Page 9