“I have just a moment.” Thus the whisper began. “There is a girl,” it went on. “Her name is Nida McFay. She works in the bookstore around the corner on Peoria Street.”
Grace started. “Why! That’s the girl I know!” She spoke aloud, then ended abruptly.
“Ah! I see you know her! Fine!” The whisper rose. “No, I didn’t hear you. Had to read your lips. For the moment I am deaf. I am a mile away but I have eyes that see you and lips that speak to you down a beam of light. You cannot see me.”
“But perhaps I have seen you.” The thought popped unbidden into the girl’s mind.
“Listen carefully!” The whisperer’s tone was insistent. “You are to become very well acquainted with this girl, Nida; so well that she will tell you her story. And let me assure you—she has a story to tell.
“You must invite her to your room, seat her by your table, then induce her to tell the story.”
“But that would be spying!” the girl burst out.
“Nothing dishonorable. Remember, I promise this. You like to help people. This is your chance. You may help many. Good morning.”
The whisper was gone, leaving the girl in a daze.
“I must think,” she told herself. “Think clearly.”