Thrilled by her discovery, Judy removed the torn pieces of telegramfrom her purse and began unraveling the mystery, bit by bit. Irenelooked on, trembling with excitement.
“‘CUT ART SHOP ROBBERY STOP FIFTY THOUSAND IS PLENTY STOP....’ _ArtShop Robbery!_ That sounds like a title! And someone wanted him to cutit to fifty thousand words—just a nice length for a book. That musthave been what he was doing on the bus, cutting down the number ofwords on those typewritten pages.”
“Why, of course,” Irene agreed. “I always knew you were gifted, Judy,but can you explain this?” She pointed.
“‘ONE MAN MURDERED INTERESTS RANDALL....’ Easy as pie! Another titleand a publisher.”
Judy tossed her head with a self-satisfied air of importance. Every oneof their questions might be answered in the classified directory.
They found a telephone booth near by and a directory on the shelfbeside it. Promptly turning to the list of publishing houses, Judy’sfinger traveled down one complete page and half of another, but noRandall could she find. With a sigh of disappointment she turned tolook again at the telegram:
“DISCUSS TERMS MONDAY”
“EMILY GRIMSHAW”
What sort of person was she? A relative? No. Relatives didn’t discussterms with authors. Wives and sweethearts didn’t either. They mightdiscuss his books, but not terms. Anyway Irene hoped that Dale Meredithhad no wife or sweetheart, certainly not a sweetheart with a name likeEmily Grimshaw. That name sounded as harsh to the ears as Dale Meredithsounded musical.
Flipping the pages of the directory, Judy came upon the answer to theirquestion:
“AUTHOR’S AGENTS (_See_ Literary Agents).”
“That might be it!”
She turned to the place and, beginning at the top of the page, bothgirls searched eagerly through the G’s.
“Greenspan, Grier, Grimshaw....”
The name was Emily and the address was a number on Madison Square.Irene was so excited that she declared she could feel her heartthumping under her slip-on sweater.
“I’d give anything to meet him again, Judy! Anything!”
And suddenly Judy wanted to meet him too, not for her own sake but forIrene’s. A bold plan began to take shape in her mind. If she and Irenefound positions in Emily Grimshaw’s office Dale Meredith would neverknow that it had not been a simple coincidence. It would be suchfun—this scheming. It would give them something to do and if Judy’splan worked it might even solve the problem of Pauline’s career.
“Of course Emily Grimshaw may not hire us,” Judy said after she hadoutlined the scheme and won Irene’s approval. “But, at any rate, it’sworth trying. We won’t need to tell her it’s only for a few weeks whenPauline will be there to step right into the position. I wonder how youget to Madison Square.”
She stopped a policeman to ask him and found it to be within easywalking distance.
“We might as well go now,” Irene agreed.
Perhaps if they thought about it too long they might lose heart and notattempt it.
The literary agent’s office was located in an old hotel on thenortheast side of the square. The building looked as if it had beenunchanged for a century. In the lobby Judy and Irene paused, surveyingthe quaint furniture and mural decorations before they mustered enoughcourage to inquire at the desk for Emily Grimshaw.
“Who’s calling?” the clerk asked tartly.
“Tell her—” Judy hesitated. “Tell her it’s two girls to see her onbusiness.”
The message was relayed over the switchboard and presently the clerkturned and said, “She will see one of you. First stairway to the left.Fourth floor.”
“Only one—” Judy began.
“She always sees one client at a time. The other girl can wait.”
“That’s right. I—I’ll wait,” Irene stammered.
“But you wanted the position——”
“I don’t now. Suppose she asked about experience.”
“You’ve had a little. You stand a better chance than I do.”
“Not with your nerve, Judy,” Irene said. “This place gives me theshivers. You’re welcome to go exploring dark halls if you like. I’drather sit here in the lobby and read Dale Meredith’s book.”
“Oh, so that’s it? Make yourself comfortable,” Judy advised with alaugh. “I may be gone a long, long time.”
“Not if she finds out how old you are.”
“Hush!” Judy reproved. “Don’t I look dignified?”
She tilted her hat a little more to the left and dabbed a powder puffon her nose. The puff happened not to have any powder on it but it gaveher a grown-up, courageous feeling. And she was to have a great need ofcourage in the hour that followed.