“Listen!” interrupted Amy Drew.
A sound—a shrill and compelling voice—reached their ears. Amy’s hand clutched at Jessie’s arm and held her back. There was nobody in sight, and the nearest house was some way back from the road.
“What is it?” murmured Jessie.
“Help! He-e-elp!” repeated the voice, shrilly.
“Radio!” muttered Amy, sepulchrally. “It is a voice out of the air.”
There positively was nobody in sight. But Jessie Norwood was practical. She knew there was a street branching off the boulevard just a little way ahead. Besides, she heard the throbbing of an automobile engine.
“Help!” shrieked the unknown once more.
“It is a girl,” declared Jessie, beginning to run and half dragging Amy Drew with her. “She is in trouble! We must help her!”
CHAPTER II
A ROAD MYSTERY
Like a great many other beautiful streets, there was a poverty-stricken section, if sparsely inhabited, just behind Bonwit Boulevard. A group of shacks and squatters’ huts down in a grassy hollow, with a little brook flowing through it to the lake, and woods beyond. It would not have been an unsightly spot if the marks of the habitation of poor and careless folk had been wiped away.