  Peggy struggled into her coat and stepped out onto the front stoop of the Gramercy Arms just in time to see Randy’s sleek old English automobile turn the corner and pull up with a squeal of brakes in front of the steps. She ran down the steps, wrenched open the door and slid in next to Randy. “Idlewild Airport,” she gasped. “As fast as you can without getting stopped!” “But—” “No but’s,” she interrupted. “Let’s go!” Randy put the big car smoothly into motion, turned east and headed for the Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive. “We’re going to the International Airways Building,” Peggy said. “Do you know where it is?” “Yes,” Randy answered. “And now that you’re settled down and have your breath back, do you mind telling me what’s happening?” “It’s Paula,” Peggy said. “Paula’s mother is Stacy Blair, the movie star, and she’s going to Europe to hunt for Paula because she doesn’t know she’s right here in New York and we have to stop them before the plane leaves, and—” “Wait a minute,” Randy interrupted. “Who thinks who’s in Europe and whom do we have to stop? You mean that Paula’s going to Europe to find her mother, or Paula’s mother is going to Europe to find Paula?” “That’s right,” Peggy said. “I mean, the last thing you said is right. Paula’s mother and father are on their way to Idlewild now to catch a plane for Europe. They think Paula’s there. It’s simple.” “It’s the most complicated piece of simplicity I’ve ever heard,” Randy commented. “Now why don’t you start from the beginning and tell it slowly and clearly? It’s not going to affect the time it takes to get to Idlewild, so you might as well relax.” Of course it wasn’t simple, as Peggy realized once she tried to explain the whole affair. It was necessary to tell Randy how she found out about Paula, and what Paula had been trying to accomplish, and how she had found out that Paula’s parents were on their way. By the time she had finished telling it, they had left Manhattan behind them, and were speeding along the express highways of Long Island. Every so often, coming to the top of one of the low rolling hills that make up the gigantic sandbar that is Long Island, Peggy could see the lights and towers of Manhattan, seeming never to drop much farther behind. She had, for a moment, the nightmare sensation of running, running, running with every possible effort, and getting nowhere at all. Fortunately, the highways were nearly deserted at this late hour, and Randy was able to make good time. The powerful engine under the long hood of the big English car purred with a low, well-tuned sound as they raced through the night, past the darkened windows of houses and garden apartments. The speedometer needle quivered at the sixty mark, and Peggy kept glancing nervously behind her, expecting at any moment to see the flashing red light and hear the warning siren of a pursuing police patrol car, but none came. Once they passed a lurking police car, waiting with darkened lights to catch a speeder, but Randy’s driving, though fast, was steady and unobtrusive. The patrol car stayed parked in the field alongside the road. Finally, Peggy made out the searchlights of the airport, far ahead of them, and then the general glow in the sky that marked the landing strips, public buildings, lounges, and airline ticket offices. As they approached the airport, Randy broke the silence. “I’ll drive straight to the International Airways Building,” he said, “and I’ll put the car in the employees’ parking lot. The regular parking lot takes a little more time, especially if we have to wait for a ticket. We can go right in from the employees’ lot, and worry about getting a ticket later.” “How do we go about finding Mr. and Mrs. Andrews when we get there?” Peggy asked. “We don’t even know what plane they’re taking.” “We shouldn’t have any trouble finding out about that,” Randy said. “I’m sure that even International Airways doesn’t have more than one plane bound for Europe at this time of night. We’ll look at the flight schedule board, and then head for the gate. At least there’s no problem about recognizing Paula’s mother when we do find her. She has one of the most famous faces in the world, I guess.” By now they were on the approach road to Idlewild Airport, which looked like something out of a science-fiction movie. The highways curved in symmetrical patterns, crossing over and under each other, and arched over with slim, modern lamps. The airline terminal buildings, brightly lighted, were each different from the other, and different, too, from any buildings that Peggy had ever seen. One looked like a giant glass-and-steel mushroom; others, in the most modern shapes, defied simple description. The International Airways Building, one of the largest, was a long, square, crystal box, with soaring bridges and terraces connecting it to other buildings. Randy drove under one of these bridges past the front entrance of the building, swung sharply to the right, and pulled the car into the parking lot reserved for pilots. Before anyone could come to question them, he and Peggy were out of the car, running for the entrance. Inside, in sharp contrast to the deserted highways and sleeping landscape that they had just roared through, the terminal was alive with hurrying people. Loud-speakers were crackling with announcements, porters carried baggage in all directions, people stood in knots waiting for planes to leave or for planes to arrive. Peggy’s head swam with the excitement. “This way!” Randy said, and grabbed her by the hand. He led her through a maze of people to a counter at the far side of the room. Behind the counter was a smartly uniformed young woman posting information on a large blackboard. “Miss,” Randy called, “could you please tell me if there’s a plane leaving for Europe—or scheduled to leave for Europe—in the next few minutes?” The girl smiled, stepped away from the blackboard which she had been obscuring, and pointed. “Take a look,” she said. “One left for Ireland about five minutes ago. Another takes off for Lisbon in ten minutes. Rome, fifteen minutes. Paris ... let’s see ... not for another half-hour. That enough for you?” “Oh dear!” Peggy said. “We’ll never find them this way! Miss, we’re looking for some people who are probably scheduled to leave on one of those planes, but we don’t know which. Perhaps you can help us?” “The General Agent has all the passenger lists,” the girl said. “You’ll find his office on the third floor, and I’m sure that you can get the information you want there.” “But....” Peggy began. “It’s quite simple,” the girl said efficiently. “Take the elevator to your left, and the General Agent will have your friends paged on the public address system....” “Paged!” Peggy gasped. “Oh, boy, are we stupid!” Randy said. “We should have done that in the first place, instead of taking this mad dash out here! Or we should have done that, too, or had the girls do it....” “But there’s no time for that now!” Peggy said. “They might be boarding a plane this very minute!” She turned again to the now puzzled girl. “Maybe you’ve seen them,” she began. “We’re looking for—” “I’m sorry,” the girl said primly, “but I’m not allowed to give any information about passengers, even if I do know their names. Which I never do.” “We’re looking for Mr. and Mrs. Dean Andrews,” Peggy went on, ignoring the girl’s disclaimer. “She’s Stacy Blair, the famous movie—” “Stacy Blair!” the girl exclaimed. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Of course I’ve seen her! How could anyone miss? Why, I never—” “Has she left yet?” Randy interrupted. “Not yet,” the girl said, annoyed at being cut off. “She’s scheduled to take the Lisbon plane that leaves in eight minutes. But if you’re looking for an autograph, you don’t have a chance. I tried myself, and she didn’t even look at me. She’s in some sort of a bad mood, and won’t talk to people. A lot of the girls and passengers tried, but—” “Lisbon! Gate fifteen!” Peggy read from the notice board. “Thanks!” she called back to the uniformed girl as she and Randy hurried for the exit that led to the passenger loading gates. They dashed past the gate attendant with a hurried explanation that they just had to see somebody off. Before he could stop them, they were racing down the long corridor past the numbered passenger gates. Through the broad windows, they could see a large jet plane, its door opened and a boarding ramp being wheeled up to its side. Through the trap below the plane, they saw luggage being loaded. “That must be it!” Randy panted. “Attention, please!” rasped the loud-speaker. “Your attention, please! Flight number two-oh-seven for Lisbon now taking on passengers at gate fifteen! Gate fifteen! Will all passengers for Lisbon please go to gate fifteen....” “Good!” Peggy gasped. “We’re ahead of them! All we have to do is wait at the gate and we’re sure to see them!” They slackened their pace somewhat, as they saw that nobody was at the loading gate but a uniformed airline official who was waiting to inspect the passengers’ tickets before letting them board. As they pulled up breathlessly at the railing, the man smiled. “You didn’t have to rush,” he said. “We’re just boarding now, and we won’t be taking off for another ten minutes or so.” “Oh, we’re not flying,” Peggy explained. “We just wanted to be here first so that we wouldn’t miss some people we want to see.” “Oh, seeing off some friends,” the uniformed man said. “You must really be fond of them to come out at a late hour like this just for the fun of waving good-by!” “Well, you might say that,” Randy said, reluctant to give away the real purpose of their visit. “If you wait right here, you can’t miss them,” the man smiled. “In fact, here come the first ones now.” Looking down the long corridor, Peggy and Randy saw a knot of passengers approaching at a leisurely pace. None of them seemed, even at this distance, to be Stacy Blair. Peggy cast a puzzled look at Randy. “They’ll probably be along in a minute or two,” he said reassuringly. “I guess it’s only the new travelers who hurry to be the first on board.” They stood quietly by as the passengers checked in, one by one, offering their tickets for inspection to the uniformed official. As each passenger passed through the gate, the inspector checked off his or her name against a master list on his little standing desk. Peggy watched with mounting alarm as name after name was checked off, and still Paula’s parents did not appear. Catching her expression, the airline official paused in his paperwork. “Say,” he said, “you’re not waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone, are you? Because if you are, I got word that they had canceled, and your trip out here would be for nothing.” “No,” Peggy said, “not Blackstone. Why?” “Because everybody else is on board already!” he replied. “Sure you have the right flight number?” “I certainly hope so!” Peggy said. “Please, may I see your passenger list?” “Sure. Help yourself.” He moved aside from the desk to let her look. At the top of the list stood the names of Mr. and Mrs. Dean Andrews. “This is the right flight, all right,” Peggy said. “We’re waiting to see Mr. and Mrs. Andrews—and they surely didn’t come on board!” “Not when you were looking,” the man said with a grin. “Sorry, kids, but you’ll have to collect your autographs some other time. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews were allowed to board before the other passengers, just so they could avoid being noticed. It seems that everybody wants Stacy Blair’s autograph, and she had a headache or something. Tough luck!” “We’re not autograph hunters,” Peggy said, “but we have to see Mr. and Mrs. Andrews! Can we please go on board? It’s very important!” The man shook his head. “Sorry. It’s strictly against the rules.” “But—” “You sure are a persistent girl,” he interrupted, “but it’s not going to do you any good. Now why don’t you just run along and chase some other movie star? Mrs. Andrews asked to be left alone, and we’re going to do everything we can to see that her wishes are—Hey!” Realizing that further discussion would be useless, Peggy decided that the time had come for direct action. She simply ran through the gate and out on to the field. Before the uniformed man could get around the railing and start in pursuit, she had already covered half the distance to the waiting jet. “Stop!” She heard a shout behind her. Still running, she turned her head in time to see Randy grab the man by the sleeve to hold him back. Hoping that Randy wouldn’t get into a fight or in any serious trouble, she ran straight on and up the steps of the boarding ramp where a stewardess with a startled expression stood waiting for her. Knowing what the answer would be to any explanations she might make, Peggy simply dashed past her, muttering, “Excuse me!” before the surprised girl could stop her. In the softly lighted cabin, all that Peggy could see were the backs of heads. She knew that she must find Mr. and Mrs. Andrews in a hurry, or she would be put off the plane before she ever got a chance to speak to them. There was no time to go quietly from seat to seat looking for the familiar features of Paula’s mother. Peggy drew a deep breath, looked once around her, and shouted: “Mr. Andrews! Mr. Andrews! Telegram!” There was a sudden silence in the plane, then a murmur as heads swiveled around and saw a young girl standing in the aisle, nervously biting her lip. Among the heads was the beautiful but worn and strained face of Stacy Blair. Peggy ran down the aisle, the stewardess close behind her. “What’s the meaning of this?” Mr. Andrews began angrily. “Who are you, and what do you—” “Please!” Peggy interrupted, almost whispering. “It’s about Paula!” The airline stewardess reached them, grabbed Peggy’s arm, and said, “I couldn’t stop her, Mr. Andrews! I’m sorry, but—” “Wait, please!” Paula’s mother said, as the stewardess started to force Peggy away. The girl relaxed her grip. The famous actress looked at Peggy and said, “What about Paula?” “She’s right here in New York,” Peggy whispered, conscious of the surrounding passengers, whose attention was riveted on the strange, dramatic scene. “I’m her friend, and I came to stop you from going to Europe. I’m sorry I caused such a fuss ... but they didn’t want to let me on the plane, and—” “Wait, please,” Mr. Andrews interrupted in a quiet voice. “This is no place to talk.” He turned to his wife. “Stacy, we’re not taking this plane. Don’t say a word now. We’ll talk where it’s more private.” Paula’s father instructed the baffled stewardess to see to it that their luggage was removed, then shepherded his wife and Peggy out of the plane, leaving behind a cabin full of puzzled, buzzing passengers. “Are ... are you sure about this?” Paula’s mother said to her husband. “No,” he said calmly, “but we can’t leave here until we are sure, one way or the other.” At the passenger gate, they found Randy—uncomfortably under the guard of two airport policemen. The official who had tried to stop Peggy was sitting on a stool with an angry expression and what looked like the beginning of a classic black eye. “This is my friend, Randy Brewster,” Peggy said. “He drove me out here, and it looks as if he had to do some fighting to see to it that I got on the plane.” Randy grinned sheepishly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews.” Mr. Andrews smiled at Randy. To the policemen he said, “Let him come along with us, please.” “I dunno, Mr. Andrews,” one of the policemen said. “I think Mr. Watkins here wants to hold him on an assault charge.” “I was just trying to protect you, Mrs. Andrews,” the official said, “but if he is a friend of yours, as he says he is, I suppose I ought to apologize instead of pressing charges.” “Yes, he’s a friend,” Mrs. Andrews said, adding under her breath, “at least I think he is!” “Well ... no charge, then,” the uncomfortable Mr. Watkins said. Randy was released and fell into step alongside Peggy and Paula’s parents as they walked down the corridor. “This had better be on the up-and-up,” Mr. Andrews said darkly, “or I’ll see to it that both of you face a good deal more than a simple assault charge as a result of it!” He cut off Peggy’s protestations, saying that he didn’t want to say one more word until they were seated in privacy in the airport restaurant. The next minutes until they reached their destination were spent in uncomfortable silence. Once seated, after introductions and assurances that Paula was safe and well, Peggy recited the story that had by now become as familiar to her as her lines in the play. Carefully, omitting nothing, she explained what Paula had tried to do, and how things had gone wrong. She explained her own part in Paula’s life, and how she had decided, on May Berriman’s advice, to disregard her friend’s wishes and call her parents. Then she told of her fast detective work in tracing them to the hotel and the airport, and of the final dash for the plane. “So there was nothing I could do but stand there and yell,” she concluded. “I’m sorry it caused such a fuss, but I didn’t know how else to find you before they put me off the plane. Anyway, that brings us to here.” “It’s quite a story,” Mr. Andrews said. “Both of us are very grateful to you, Peggy, for the care you’ve taken of Paula and for your concern about us. And we’re grateful to you too, Randy,” he added. “We are,” Paula’s mother echoed, a smile lighting her face. “Now, my dear, will you please take us to Paula?” “I ... I was afraid you’d ask that,” Peggy said. “I will, of course, if you really insist on it, but I wish you’d think about it awhile first. Paula has gone through so much—and put both of you through so much, too—just to prove something to herself. If you go to her now, her whole effort will have been wasted. I think you ought to let her stay in obscurity for just a few days longer until we open the show, and give her the chance she wanted.” “I understand your point of view, Peggy,” Paula’s mother said, “but can’t you understand mine? All I want is to see my daughter and be sure that she’s safe and well!” “Can’t you take my word for that, please?” Peggy begged. “You’ve waited so long, what does it matter if you wait another three days until opening night? If you do that, then Paula will get the chance she wants, and I won’t feel so miserable about having called you when she asked me not to. I just want everybody—you two and Paula—to be happy. Won’t you please wait and give her a chance to prove to herself that she’s as good as we all know she is?” “Is she good?” her mother asked fervently. “She’s wonderful!” Peggy and Randy said in chorus. “I knew it! I knew it!” The famous actress beamed. “I knew all those good reviews weren’t just because of us....” “Then you had your doubts too, didn’t you, Mrs. Andrews?” Randy put in quickly. “Why ... why, not really,” Paula’s mother answered, taken aback. “But, still....” “But still, even though you were sure Paula is a good actress, you never knew for a fact that the critics sincerely thought so too!” Randy said. “In a way, I suppose you’re right,” Mrs. Andrews said. “Then you can understand Paula’s view?” Peggy asked. “Yes. I can understand.” “Peggy,” Mr. Andrews said, “I’m willing to wait a few days to see her, if you really think it’s best—and if my wife agrees. But what harm would it do for us to call her on the phone?” “It would be the same thing,” Peggy said. “She’d know that you’re in town, and she’d start to suspect that you were doing things for her again. Besides, it might throw her into such a state of excitement that she wouldn’t do her best on opening night.” “Perhaps you’re right,” Paula’s mother said thoughtfully. “Nerves do get on edge close to opening, and from what you tell me, I can’t imagine that Paula’s are in the best of shape now.” “Then you’ll wait?” Peggy asked. “Yes, Peggy, I’ll wait. If only as a favor to you. Heaven knows, we owe you a favor for all you’ve done. Do you agree, dear?” Mr. Andrews looked thoughtful. “All right,” he said at length. “But we’re going to be at the opening! We’ll sit in the back of the house so she won’t see us. My wife will have to wear a veil or a false mustache or something, but you can bet we’re going to be there!” “We’ll put you in the projection booth!” Randy said. “You’ll have a perfect view, and nobody will see you at all!” “Fine,” Mr. Andrews agreed. “And what do you want us to do until opening night? Shall we just hang around New York, or shall we lie low somewhere?” “It does sound like a conspiracy, doesn’t it?” Peggy laughed. “It is,” Paula’s mother said. “And Mr. Andrews has a point. We two are considered to be—well—newsworthy, you know. And while it’s not much of a story just to leave for Europe, it would be considered a story if the papers found out about our sudden cancellation of the trip. If that gets into the papers, and Paula sees it, she’ll know we’re in town, and she’ll probably be more nervous than ever. Shouldn’t we go somewhere?” “We should,” Mr. Andrews said, getting up from the table. “And before we waste any more time, I’d better get hold of those policemen and that Mr. Watkins and see that they don’t start talking to any reporters about tonight.” He returned somewhat later, looking pleased with himself. “Come on,” he said. “I’ve taken care of them, and I’ve rented a car. We’re going to do something we’ve both wanted to do for years, and haven’t had time for. We’re taking a nice, leisurely sight-seeing trip by car. We won’t come back till opening night, and then we’ll go straight to the theater!” Final plans were hurriedly made for the trip, and for the timing of their arrival on opening night, as Peggy and Randy walked Mr. and Mrs. Andrews to their waiting car. Good nights and thanks were exchanged once more. By the time that Randy delivered Peggy to the doorstep of the Gramercy Arms, the first light of dawn was showing in the east. It was nearly five in the morning. Through the kitchen windows at street level, Peggy could see May Berriman, Amy, and Greta, surrounded by coffee cups, doggedly waiting up for her. It would still be awhile, she knew, before she would get to bed. |
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