CHAPTER XVI
OVER THE RADIO
Lieutenant Collins was a big man with a ruddy face and blue eyes thatsmiled kindly over his massive desk. Like Chief Kelly at home heinspired confidence, and Judy felt relieved to be talking with himinstead of the young sergeant they had found at the police stationbefore. With now and then an additional bit of information from Daleand Pauline, she retold the story of Irene’s mysterious disappearance.Then she explained Mr. Lang’s subsequent telegram leading them tosuppose Irene was safe and, finally, the discovery that Mr. Lang hadmerely described a house in Brooklyn.
“You see, he lives in a small town. He didn’t realize that such adescription would be of no use to Irene here. And now,” Judy finished,“we seem to be right back where we started from—without a clue.”
By this time quite a group of officers and young detectives hadgathered around the lieutenant’s desk.
“It’s beginning to look like an interesting case,” one of them remarkedwith a smug satisfaction that caused Dale to glare at him. Irene was nocase! She was a flesh-and-blood girl—lost, alone. He did not think ofthe many instances in his own stories where the detective had madesimilar remarks. It never occurred to him that here was real experienceon which to build his imaginative tales. No one had told him that theone thing his stories lacked was an intensity of feeling gained only byliving through an actual tragedy.
Judy thought of it. It seemed irrelevant, almost disloyal to Irene tothink of fiction and Dale’s future just then. But if they found Irene,Dale’s future might be hers. How wonderful! And after those high-hatgirls in Farringdon had snubbed her so! It would be almost a triumphfor Judy, too—that is, if they could only find Irene and give thisCinderella story a chance to come true.
The printed form Judy had previously filled in was still on file in thepolice records. This was checked up and once more turned over to theDetective Bureau. The description, Lieutenant Collins promised, wouldbe telephoned to the Bureau of Missing Persons and broadcast over theradio at seven-thirty.
Dale looked at his watch. Only an hour and the whole country would behearing about Irene’s disappearance. Surely someone had seen her, andwhoever it was couldn’t forget the golden dress and slippers.
“Girls don’t vanish,” Judy declared as they turned to leave.
“Oh, but they do,” Pauline cried. “Joy Holiday vanished right out of alocked room. And when they found her she was dead.”
None of them spoke after that. Automatically they went back to thehouse and climbed up the three long flights of stairs. Blackberrygreeted them as they opened the door, but Judy had no heart for rompingwith him.
“Go away!” she said, pushing him gently out of the way. “Cats can’tunderstand human troubles.”
But instead of minding her, he rubbed his silky head against herankles. His soft, crackly purr seemed to say: “Cats do understand humantroubles. What you need is someone who loves you to sympathize.”
Tears came to Judy’s eyes. She thought of her father and motherstruggling with an epidemic of influenza when they had wanted avacation. She thought of her brother, Horace. She thought of Peter andHoney and their two dear grandparents, of Arthur who had once helpedhunt for Lorraine Lee in his airplane. How she missed them all! How sheneeded them! Oh, why had she and Irene ever left Farringdon at all? Tofind adventure, she supposed. Now she felt sick to death of adventureand only wanted all her friends together the way they used to be.Irene, even the pale overworked Irene, would be better than this awfuluncertainty.
Walking over to the radio, Judy stood watching Dale as he fumbled withthe dials. In ten more minutes the police alarms would be on the air.
“A little more to the left if you want the city station,” Paulinedirected from her chair beside the desk. He turned the dials and, loudand clear, a familiar dance tune broke upon their senses. It was_Golden Girl_ and a well-known radio artist, Kate South, was singing inan emotional, contralto voice:
My own golden girl. There is one, only one Who has eyes like the stars and hair like the sun. In your new yellow gown you’re a dream of delight. You have danced in my heart on bright slippers tonight ...
Judy bowed her head and tears smarted in her eyes.
“Irene’s description,” Dale said fiercely. He shut off the radio anddid not turn it on again until the ten minutes were up.
Gongs sounded and then the announcer’s voice, very cold andmatter-of-fact, read through the list of missing persons. Irene’s namecame last:
MISSING SINCE JUNE TWENTIETH: IRENE LANG OF FARRINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA; VISITING AT 120 GRAMERCY PARK, NEW YORK CITY. SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD; HEIGHT: 5 FEET, 4 INCHES; WEIGHT: 110 POUNDS; BLUE EYES; FAIR HAIR; WEARING A YELLOW DRESS AND JACKET, NO HAT, HIGH HEELED GOLD PUMPS AND CARRYING A BROWN HAND BAG.
That was all. In a few seconds it was over and Judy was left with thesick feeling that no one had heard.
* * * * *
In the living room of their little apartment two hundred miles away,Mrs. Dobbs settled herself in a comfortable rocker ready to relax andlisten to the radio. Mrs. Dobbs loved music. Usually she listened tothe old-time melodies but there was something especially appealingabout the popular song that Kate South was singing. She called to hergrandson.
“Come here, Peter, and listen.”
The tall youth entered the room and stretched himself in a chair.
“Gee, Grandma! It makes a fellow feel lonesome. Why the dickens do yousuppose Judy had to spend her vacation so far away from folks who careabout her?”
“She’s with Irene,” Mrs. Dobbs replied, “and from what I hear, PaulineFaulkner has taken a great liking to both of them. Honey was sayingonly this morning that she wished she’d been invited, too.”
“I’m glad she wasn’t,” Peter returned with vigor. “At least I have alittle to say about what my sister is and isn’t going to do. Where isshe now?”
“Out with Horace. He’s been taking her out alone since Irene wentaway——”
But Mrs. Dobbs stopped speaking as Peter held up his hand. The musichad played out and neither of them had been paying much attention tothe announcements that followed until the name, Irene Lang, broke upontheir senses. Missing, was she?
Peter gave a low whistle of surprise and then jumped to his feet.
“Where are you going?” his grandmother cried.
“Going to get the car,” he flung over his shoulder. “Judy will beneeding me.”
In the hallway he bumped into Horace and Honey just returning from ashort walk through town.
“Where’s the fire?” Horace greeted him. “If there’s something excitinggoing on I want to hear about it. The paper’s starving for news.”
“Irene Lang has disappeared!” Peter gave out the “news” so suddenlythat Horace was dumbfounded for a moment.
“And I’m going to New York to help Judy,” he added. “She’s apt to gotoo far with her flare for detecting. You might as well come, too.Maybe the paper will finance the trip if we bring back a big scoop——”
“Sa-ay!” Horace broke in. “Don’t forget it’s Irene Lang who is missing.News or no news, nothing goes into the paper that isn’t on the level.”
“Don’t I know it!” Peter replied. “Irene wouldn’t do anything thatwasn’t on the level and there’s Judy to consider, too.”
“I want to help,” Honey spoke up. “Won’t you let me come with you?”
Horace looked at her and shook his head. The trip wouldn’t be a verysafe one with Peter in his present mood and his car capable of a speedexceeding sixty.
“Then can’t we do something here?” she begged. “Can’t we go and seeIrene’s father? Maybe he knows where she went.”
“Gosh!” Horace exclaimed. “That’s a real idea, Honey. You’ll be as goodas Judy if you keep on using those little gray cells of yours. Goodbye,Peter! We’re off for the sanitarium
.”
“Backing out, eh?” Peter gibed him.
“Backing out, nothing! If we learn anything important,” Horacedeclared, “we can beat your car in Arthur’s airplane.”
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The Yellow Phantom Page 17