Helen finished her shower, looked in at Janet, then returned to her own room, where she partially dressed, put on a dressing gown, and sat down to write a letter home chronicling the events of her first day in New York.
Janet awoke as suddenly as she had fallen asleep. Helen had turned out the light in her room and it was quite dark now, the only light coming through the half-opened door that led to the bathroom and on to Helen’s room.
Janet turned on the light over the desk where she had been writing and glanced down at the manuscript she had been working on. She turned and called sharply to Helen.
“Did you pick up the manuscript I finished this afternoon?” she asked.
“Haven’t seen it since we left for the Battery,” replied Helen. “The last I knew it was right beside your typewriter. Maybe you’re too sleepy to see it.”
“I’m not that sleepy,” retorted Janet.
Perhaps she had put it on the dresser and she turned toward that article of furniture but there was no sign of the manuscript there. She pulled open the drawers, but the manuscript was not there and Helen joined her in the hunt.
“Sure you haven’t taken it to your room and mislaid it?” asked Janet, a deep pucker of worry lining her forehead.
“We’ll look to make sure,” said Helen and they hastened to her room, but the search there was just as fruitless as the one in Janet’s room. Janet even looked in the closets, but there was no encouragement there. In a last hope, she went through the wastepaper basket, but she was doomed to disappointment and turned to Helen, her voice shaking with emotion.
“There’s no doubt about it now,” she declared. “Someone entered our rooms while we were away and stole the manuscript I had been working on!”