The Film of Fear

by Frederic Arnold Kummer

"Yes. There were two."

"Ah! The Ford girl. I might have known. Where did they go?"

"I—I don't know. To the station, I think. They said something about waiting there for a train."

"What station?"

"They didn't say. But they spoke of taking a car to 42nd Street, and crossing over. It must have been the Grand Central."

"Or possibly the West Shore. We'll have to try both. Are you able to leave now?"

Grace straightened out her stiffened limbs.

"Yes—I—guess so."

"Then come along."

As they started to leave the place, two men confronted them at the door. One was Mr. Scully, he of the ground-floor apartment, the other a short, thickset man, who at once announced himself as the janitor of the building.