“Tomorrow night,” Peggy said. “It’s too late to start tonight. We’d want to be in the alley and under the stairs before it gets really dark. Tomorrow Amy and I will stand watch, then—”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Randy said. “You two have done your part in this. The lookout work will be done by men!”
“You’re probably right,” Peggy said, outwardly reluctant to give in, but secretly happy that she wouldn’t have to spend nights crouching under those dark stairs and waiting for heaven only knew what.
“I’ll go tomorrow,” Pip said.
“I’ll go with you,” Tom Galen said. “We’d better go two at a time, at least for the purpose of having two witnesses to anything we see.”
“Good. Randy and I will go the next night,” Mal said. “We can alternate from there.”
Everything arranged, Mal tried to turn the group to the original purpose of the meeting, which was to work on further readings of the play. He soon realized that everyone was too keyed up to concentrate, and canceled work for the night.
“I think, in fact, that we’d better forget about rehearsals entirely,” he said, “at least until we have this theater business settled one way or the other. For one thing, we’re going to need all the sleep we can get on the nights that we’re not standing watch.”
Everyone agreed, and in varying states of tension and excitement, said good night and parted, knowing that the next few days might be very, very busy.
School the next day seemed almost unreal to Peggy. Or was it the dark alley and the night watch to come that was the unreal thing? Considered carefully, nothing seemed quite real, even her home and her parents in the neat, orderly world of Rockport. A ride on Socks around the autumn fields of Wisconsin would clear her mind, she thought, or just an hour alone in her favorite thinking spot in the harness room.
Her thoughts, shuttling restlessly between the friendly barn and the now-sinister alley, were definitely not on her work, which was a lecture session on television acting technique.
At lunch in the park, the discussion centered on the night’s work that waited for Pip and Tom Galen. It all seemed very melodramatic.
“I’ve arranged with Tom,” Pip was saying, “to meet me downtown a little before six. We’re both going to wear black slacks and sweaters, and we’ll take black gloves. That way, we ought to melt into the shadows perfectly.”
“How about your faces?” Connie giggled. “Are you going to go in blackface like a couple of Al Jolsons?”
“We considered it,” Pip said seriously, “but we decided that it wasn’t necessary. If anyone comes, we’ll hold our gloved hands over our faces, and look through our fingers.”
“I must say you’ve thought of everything,” Amy said in admiration.
“Everything,” Pip echoed gloomily, “except what to do if we get caught. We even worked out something about that, but I don’t know how good it is.”
“What have you worked out?” Peggy asked.
“We’re supposed to call Randy at one in the morning to tell him that we’re going off duty. If we don’t call by then, he’s supposed to call the police. Tomorrow night, he and Mal will call me at one.”
“That sounds sensible,” Peggy commented.
“Sure. Sensible. But if they catch us, say, at ten o’clock, we could be in some pretty bad trouble by the time the police come around after one.”
Feeling that this line of conversation was doing them no good at all, Peggy tried, with little success, to change the subject. By the time lunch was over and they had returned to the Academy, all four of them felt thoroughly depressed.
Somehow, Peggy got through the afternoon.
And somehow, she got through the night, but it was scarcely a restful one. She lay awake until one o’clock worrying about Pip and Tom, and finally, at one-fifteen, called Randy. He answered at the first ring, quite awake.
“Did they call?” she asked.
“At one o’clock sharp,” he assured her. “They haven’t seen anything at all, and they’re perfectly all right. Now get some sleep. Good night.”
Feeling relieved, Peggy went back to bed, but it was not easy to sleep. What had seemed such a good idea yesterday was beginning to seem foolish today. The boys were engaging in unknown risks, and nobody knew what dangers they might encounter. Perhaps they should have gone to the police in the first place, and tried to convince them that something was amiss. Perhaps they should still do so....
Finally, she slept, troubled by vague, unpleasant dreams.
The next day, her doubts grew stronger. Pip appeared at school late, looking like a molting owl. He had rings under his eyes and seemed not to have slept at all.
“We decided to stay on until daylight,” he explained wanly, “just in case your idea that any action would take place between six and twelve was wrong. Nothing happened, and we left at five-thirty in the morning.”
“But, Pip!” Peggy protested. “That’s a twelve-hour watch! You shouldn’t be in school today!”
“It’s all right,” he assured her with a weak smile. “I’m rested. Slept from six until nearly nine.”
He tackled his work gamely, but by noon agreed with Peggy that the wisest course would be to cut school for the afternoon and go home to sleep.
“Remember,” she cautioned him, “you have to set your alarm clock for one in the morning, in case you don’t get a call from Randy and Mal.”
“I’m going to do better than that,” Pip said. “I’m going to shut off the bell on my telephone so I can sleep straight through to midnight. Then I’ll have the alarm wake me, so I can turn the phone on, and I’ll set the alarm for one o’clock then.”
Pip left, somewhat unsteadily, and Peggy went to her afternoon class on Elizabethan drama. She forced herself to concentrate, knowing that she would have more than enough time that night to worry about the mystery of the alley, and to speculate on what troubles the second night watch might bring.
It was five-thirty and teatime at the Gramercy Arms when the troubles began.
“Your redheaded boy friend’s on the phone for you, Peggy,” Greta announced from the head of the stairs. “He sounds worried.”
Hurriedly putting down her teacup, Peggy ran from the kitchen and up to the phone in the hall.
“Randy,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid so, Peggy,” he answered. “Nothing serious, but I’m afraid that Mal and I are going to be hopelessly late for our watch tonight, and unless you want to take a chance on missing whatever action might take place in the alley, Pip and Tom are going to have to cover it again. At least for the first few hours.”
“What happened?” she asked. “Where are you?”
“It’s my car,” he answered. “I had to go out to my family’s place on Long Island to get some stuff, and Mal came along for the ride. We thought we’d have plenty of time, but on the way back, the car broke down. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and the trouble will take at least another hour to fix. That means that we couldn’t possibly be at the alley until about seven-thirty, and, to tell the truth, eight or nine would be more like it. Will you get hold of Pip and Tom and tell them the sad news?”
Peggy agreed, wished him good luck with the car, and hung up.
Pip’s phone didn’t answer, and after ringing for several minutes, Peggy remembered his decision to shut off the bell until midnight. She next tried the midtown hotel where Tom Galen lived, but he was not in his room, and the desk clerk had not seen him for several hours.
Hurrying downstairs to the kitchen and her now cold cup of tea, she broke the news to Amy.
“Well, maybe nothing will happen before eight or nine,” Amy said hopefully, but not looking too convinced.
“I’m afraid that if anything is going to happen, that’s just about the time for it,” Peggy said. “The neighborhood doesn’t really empty out until after six, and it starts to get busy again a little before midnight. If I wanted to do any work in that alley, I think I’d plan to arrive by eight and leave by ten, if it could be done.”
“Nothing happened last night,” Amy said, “so maybe nothing will happen tonight either.”
“I’m going to have to disagree again. Just because nothing happened last night, I think that we stand a better chance of seeing something tonight. Judging from the used condition of that doorsill, whoever’s using the place doesn’t let too much time go by between visits.”
“But what can we do about it?” Amy said. “With Randy and Mal out on Long Island, and Pip and Tom unreachable, that leaves only us.”
“I know,” Peggy said firmly. “And that’s who’s going to go tonight!”
“Oh, Peggy! Do you think we ought to?” Amy asked. “I mean, it might be dangerous, and we are a couple of girls, and....”
“This is no time to play the feminine Southern belle,” Peggy said. “We have to go. And besides, there’s no danger. It’s not as if we’ll be seen, or as if we meant to rush out and stop the crooks if we see them! We’ll just hide under the stairs and watch. Anyway, even if you don’t want to go, you can’t stop me.”
“That settles it,” Amy said with conviction. “You’re not going to go to that place alone. When do we start?”
“Right now!” Peggy said eagerly. “It’s almost six o’clock, and we haven’t got too much time to get there before it’s dark. Come on! We have to get dressed for the occasion!”
Peggy giggled uneasily as she and Amy inspected themselves in the hall mirror before leaving the Gramercy Arms. “We look like a couple of character actors dressed up for a skit on the Beat Generation.”
“Or like a couple of weird vampires from a horror movie,” Amy replied with a nervous laugh.
Greta surveyed them critically. “At least you don’t have to worry about anything,” she said acidly. “Those getups would frighten off any man in the world. If the crooks do catch sight of you, all it’ll take is one look before they scream and run!”
Both girls were dressed identically, having taken their cue from Pip in the matter of appropriate clothes for playing detective in a dark alley. They wore black skirts and sweaters, black stockings and black shoes. They carried black gloves and black scarves. The scarf was necessary for Amy to cover her bright, blond hair, and Peggy thought it was a good idea for her to take one, too, as a face covering. Neither wore any jewelry at all, so there would be nothing to rattle or jingle or catch the light.
“If we’re not back by morning,” Peggy said wryly, “send out the bloodhounds for us.”
“I’m waiting up for you,” Greta said. “And if you’re not back by one-thirty, the first bloodhound to pick up your trail is going to be me. With an appropriate police escort,” she added.
“Don’t worry,” Peggy said. “We’ll be all right. Just wish us luck, and we’ll be on our way.”
“All right, then. Good luck,” Greta said, opening the door for them. “I just hope the police don’t pick you up, for looking like suspicious characters.”
Peggy and Amy left, feeling a little foolish about their costumes, but after walking for a block or two, they realized that nobody was even looking at them.
“That’s the wonderful thing about New York,” Peggy said. “You can wear anything, or do anything, and nobody seems to care as long as you don’t disturb the peace.”
Amy nodded in agreement. “The other day I noticed a man with a beard down to his waist. He was wearing a long Biblical-looking white robe and a pair of sandals, and nobody on the street was paying the least bit of attention to him. Just try to picture him passing unnoticed in Pine Hollow or in Rockport!”
“Just try to picture us passing unnoticed in Pine Hollow or in Rockport!” Peggy laughed. “We’d probably have a crowd of people and barking dogs and small boys throwing stones by now!”
The driver scarcely glanced at them as they boarded a bus.
“I suppose it’s nice to know that nobody bothers about you in New York,” Peggy said when they were seated, “but in a way it’s kind of scary. I mean, supposing something were to happen to us, do you think that anyone would even notice it if we screamed?”
Amy shivered. “I know what you mean,” she said. “I suppose a lot of people would notice it, and then they’d just put it out of their minds and do nothing about it. They’d just figure it was none of their business, after all, and go right on doing what they were doing.”
The thought was not a happy one, and both girls lapsed into a tense silence as the bus bore them downtown into the deepening twilight.
They got off in a district of office buildings, shops, and showrooms, all dark now. The streets were empty, save for an occasional car or taxi and the taillights of their bus, receding in the distance. As they turned to the west, down a narrow side street, the street lights came on. They seemed to accentuate the darkness rather than relieve it. The girls hurried on past closed doors and shuttered windows. Each block they walked brought them past older and lower buildings. The smell of the river was brought to them by an incoming mist. Somewhere in the distance a foghorn sounded two short, mournful blasts and then was still.
They were in the market and warehouse district now. Parked trucks stood silently by darkened loading docks, and shadows crouched behind tall stacks of crates and boxes. One shadow suddenly detached itself from the rest and shot by them with a wail! Peggy’s heart leaped and she clutched Amy’s arm before she realized it was only an alley cat.
One shadow suddenly detached itself from the rest
“A cat!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling in mixed fear and relief. “Just a cat! Oh dear, if I let that sort of thing scare me, I’m not going to be much good tonight!”
“I ... I was frightened, too,” Amy said. “It was so sudden! We’ll probably see more of them here, chasing the rats that must live around these food markets. We’d better get used to it.”
But the thought of rats did nothing to calm Peggy’s nerves, or Amy’s either. What if, in the alley behind the theater, rats should come? What if they should come at the same time as the crooks? What if, under the fire stairs, there should come a quiet scratching...? Peggy wondered if she would be able to keep her silence then.
But they were near the theater alley now, and Peggy resolutely put her fear of rats out of her mind. Let’s just worry about one thing at a time, she told herself. The street was deserted, as she had hoped it would be, and they were able to slip into the alley unobserved.
They walked cautiously, taking care with each step. If there was any work going on in the alley now, this would be no time to disturb it. Before turning the corner into the back court, they paused and listened for what seemed a very long time. Not a sound disturbed the night. The immediate silence was so perfect that they could hear, far in the distance, the never-ending rumble and stir of the city, the growl of subways and motors, the far-off drone of airplanes.
They turned into the empty courtyard, darted noiselessly for the fire stairs and crouched in the shadows, their hearts drumming loudly and the blood roaring in their ears like the noise of the distant subways.
It was some time before they felt calm enough to take stock of their position. The fire stair was, as Peggy had told the boys, a perfect place to hide. Most of it mounted out of sight in an airshaft on the side of the building opposite the entrance alley. Only the last six steps came out into the court, having turned the corner of the building at a landing. The space below the landing made a cramped little lean-to, protected by the steps themselves on one side and by a latticework of metal on the other. The space was open only in the rear, from which direction nobody could approach them.
The steps themselves were steel, and the risers between the steps were of the same metal grillwork as that on the side. It was almost impossible for anyone to see into the shadowed cubbyhole behind the grill, but quite an easy matter for the girls to see out.
“I think we’re safe enough here,” Peggy whispered, tactfully restraining herself from adding, “as long as no rats come around.”
“It seems safe,” Amy agreed, “but I wouldn’t exactly call it comfortable. It’s too low to stand in, and I hate the thought of sitting down on the dirt that’s collected here. There’s a box out there in the courtyard. Why don’t we bring it in to sit on?”
“Better not,” Peggy answered. “Someone may remember having seen it there, and if it’s missing, it might give them the idea that somebody’s been here. And we don’t want anyone to get ideas like that.”
Amy agreed reluctantly with the sense of Peggy’s argument, and shifted her position. “No wonder Pip was so tired,” she whispered. “A whole twelve hours of crouching like this must be a terrible thing to go through! We’ve only been here for about fifteen minutes, and I’m beginning to get pins and needles already.”
The next hour and a half, spent mostly in silence, and in trying to get used to the cramped position beneath the stairs, passed by with terrible slowness. Every so often, the roar of a truck would be heard in the street, and the girls would grow tense, waiting for it to turn into the alley. But it always went by, leaving an even deeper silence behind it.
“It’s almost time for Randy and Mal to come,” Peggy whispered. “I don’t envy them their night, but I’ll sure be glad to get out of here!”
“So will—quiet! I hear another truck,” Amy said.
Quietly shifting into new positions of comparative comfort, the girls held their breath and waited to hear the sound of the truck passing the alley. But this one didn’t pass.
A bright beam of headlights swept down the alley and lighted up the court as the truck turned in off the street.
“Those headlights!” Peggy whispered. “When they turn the corner into the court, they’re bound to light up this whole stairway!”
“Just hope the driver doesn’t look this way!” Amy whispered in return.
But before the truck came into sight, the headlights were switched off, and the driver came in under the soft glow of the parking lamps. The truck was an ordinary-looking, box-body affair, a little shabby, dented, and in need of both a washing and a paint job. Faded, once-gold letters high up on its side read “O & O TRUCKING Co.” The forlorn appearance of the truck was belied by the soft, powerful sound of its well-tuned engine as it turned into the alley and was expertly backed up to the loading platform.
Two men silently leaped out of the cab and carefully closed the doors. Moving on rubber-soled shoes, they climbed onto the platform, unlocked the rear doors of the truck and swung them back. A third man, holding a rifle in his hand, stepped out of the truck.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “You get the stuff out, and I’ll keep watch.”
He jumped lightly down and stationed himself at the corner by the alley, his rifle held ready, while the other men unlocked the elevator doors and opened them.
They worked swiftly and quietly in the darkness, which was relieved only by a very dim work light mounted in the truck body. By its pale glow, Peggy and Amy saw only an anonymous series of boxes being transferred from the truck to the elevator. There was no way to tell what they held but, Peggy thought, it couldn’t have been anything legal—not if it had to be loaded secretly at night and under an armed guard.
Thinking of the armed guard, she suddenly shivered with fright as a new thought came to her. The boys! Randy and Mal! What if they should choose this moment to make their appearance? The man with the rifle stood motionless and poised for action. Peggy was sure he would not hesitate to shoot anyone who walked into that alley. Biting her lip and holding tightly to the steel support of the stair, she prayed that Randy’s engine would give him more trouble, or that they would run into heavy traffic or want to stop for dinner or ... or anything! Anything to keep them from coming here until the truckmen had finished their business and gone.
At least she was not kept long in suspense. The men were quick and efficient, and their cargo was not a very large one. In a very few minutes, the elevator was loaded and, with a smooth whir not at all like the Academy elevators, it ascended to the theater. It returned not long after, emptied of its crates, and the workmen shut off the mechanism, swung the doors closed, and clicked the lock on them.
The watchman with the rifle nodded his approval, climbed back into the rear of the truck and once more allowed himself to be locked in. Without a word, the truckmen took their places in the cab, soundlessly shut the doors, and the battered truck swung smoothly into the courtyard, backed up, and turned down the alley.
It seemed like the first time in ten minutes that Peggy had breathed.
“I was frightened to death that the boys would come!” she said.
“That’s all I could think of, too,” Amy whispered in a shaky voice.
“Now all I want is for them to come fast!” Peggy said. “We’ve got all the evidence we need for the police, I think, and I just want to get out of here!”
“If we do get this theater for our play,” Amy said, “I wonder if I’ll feel good about it. I’m afraid I’ll never feel quite right about this place after tonight!”
“Oh, we’ll make it all over,” Peggy said with enthusiasm. “We’ll put bright lights in the little marquee, and we’ll put up lighted theater posters on the walls, and I think we could paint the wall behind the loading platform white with gilt trim on the pillars on each side of the elevator. Then, if we can find a fountain for the court, the way I suggested before, and maybe a few stone benches, we—Oh!” She gave a start of fright as a male voice laughed close to her ear.
“Just like a woman!” Randy said. “Supposed to be keeping a lookout, and you’re decorating an alley! But where are Pip and Tom? And what are you doing here? And—”
“We’ll tell you everything over coffee,” Peggy said. “Oh, Randy! It’s all over! We’ve got our crooks—and they’re crooks all right—and we’ve got our theater, I’m sure—and I’m so glad you didn’t come ten minutes earlier, and.... Oh, let’s get out of here!”
“Let’s,” Mal said. “This is hardly my idea of a place for a date! Amy, take my arm. I have a feeling you need it. And Randy, get a firm grip on Peggy, if you please.”
“Stop directing, Mal,” Randy laughed. “I think I’ve already written this scene quite nicely, and the hero has the heroine well in hand!”
Seated at the desk in her room, Peggy selected a fresh sheet of paper. She was on the fifth page of a letter to her friend Jean Wilson.
So you see I was right. Therewerecrooks using the theater all the time. The next day, Amy and I told the police what we had seen in the alley, and I think they were really pleased, even though they did bawl us out for poking around in police affairs. At that, they admitted that if we had come to them the first time with nothing but suspicions, they probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Anyway, they put a guard under the stairs and stationed some more policemen around, and two nights later they caught the gang.
It seems they were hijackers, which means that they held up trucks on the road and stole valuable cargo from them. They were using the theater as a warehouse for the stolen goods until they could dispose of them in whatever way crooks get rid of stolen goods. When the police searched the place, they found thousands and thousands of dollars’ worth of furs and silverware and liquor and appliances and all sorts of things. The cartons that we saw them unload the night we were there turned out to contain nylon stockings, and they were worth about twenty thousand dollars, which is an awful lot of nylon stockings.
The police say we’re going to get a big reward from the insurance people. The boys wanted to give it all to me, but I refused it. I’m going to give it to the players’ group, which really means to Randy and Mal, to rent the theater on a long-term lease and to fix it up properly. They said once before that they didn’t want to be in the real estate business, but I think that they’re changing their minds about that.
The police got in touch with the owner of the building, who is retired and has been living in Florida for a long time. He didn’t know anything about what was going on in the theater and was quite grateful that we had gotten his crooked tenants out of the place. It seems he has been so long away from the New York real-estate scene, that he didn’t know his property was in demand as a theater. He says it hasn’t been used as one for over fifty years! Of course, he could get more money renting it as a theater than as a warehouse, but he says he doesn’t need more money, and we need a theater. He has offered it to us on a ten-year lease for the same rent he was getting before.
Randy says that the rent is so low that even a moderately successful season would give him and Mal enough profit to live on comfortably, so they’re now beginning to talk about becoming managers, doing their own shows and, when they don’t happen to have a show for a particular season, renting the theater to other groups.
What’s more, the rent covers the whole building, and the boys are thinking of turning part of it into apartments for themselves, and the rest of it into apartments for other young actors, something like a Gramercy Arms for boys!
Incidentally, the theater is beautiful. The police let us in to take a look at it today, and even with all those boxes and crates and fur coats and things stacked around, we could see how nice it is. It’ll need new seats, I’m afraid, and a new lighting system and a switchboard and a curtain and loads of other things, but the reward money will more than cover all that. And we even have a name for it—the Penthouse Theater. How does that strike you? I only hope you can come to New York to see it when it’s all ready.
Or, better than that, plan to come to New York next season when, with luck, I might have a part in a play there. One of the things I like best about Randy and Mal is that, even though they’re just bursting with gratitude and they keep calling me a heroine, they haven’t tried to ‘pay me off’ by offering me a part in the play. I’m still going to help just by painting scenery and selling ads in the program and running errands and things like that. This way, I know that if I ever get a part in one of their plays, it will be because I deserve it as an actress.
Another thing I like about Randy is that he’s coming to take me out again tonight. Which reminds me—I’d better sign off now, before Irene and Amy install themselves in the bathrooms!
Do you suppose that’s what they mean when they say that one of the most important things for an actress to learn is timing?
More next time fromPeggy
Endpapers
Back cover
As far back as she can remember, Peggy Lane—young, pretty, and talented—has wanted to become an actress. Ambitious but realistic, Peggy knows her name isn’t going to be in lights immediately but finally persuades her cautious parents to let her spend a year in New York to try to gain a foothold in the fabled world of the theater.
Peggy’s first big test is an audition at the New York Dramatic Academy, whose eccentric director will decide whether she shows sufficient promise to be accepted for professional training. Meanwhile, Peggy becomes friends with Randy Brewster, a young playwright, and Mal Seton, who will direct Randy’s experimental play if and when they can find an off-Broadway theater in which to produce it. Peggy eagerly volunteers to help in their desperate search and, exploring the byways of the city for a forgotten theater, unwittingly stumbles into a mysterious and dangerous situation.
The launching of Peggy’s career, her struggle to make her dreams become a reality, is a delightful and heart-warming story.
Peggy Finds the TheaterPeggy Plays Off-BroadwayPeggy Goes Straw HatPeggy on the Road
By VIRGINIA HUGHES
Back cover
Peggy Lane, the young heroine of this exciting new series, is an aspiring and talented actress. Her adventures as a drama student in New York City, and her slow climb to success, with dedicated young theater people like herself, make the theme of this inspiring new career series for girls.
GROSSET & DUNLAPPublishersNEW YORK