“Oh, this is awful,” she groaned. “Dad and Mother are coming to New York for the first broadcast. What will I do?”
“Don’t answer the telegram tonight,” Janet warned her. “Perhaps something brighter will have taken place by tomorrow.”
Janet opened the door of her own room and snapped on the light. As she did so a small envelope, which had been slipped under the door, drew her attention and she reached down to pick it up. Helen came in the room just then and looked at Janet curiously as she opened the envelope.
Janet’s face flushed as she read the message, which had been printed crudely on a sheet of fine linen paper.
“What is it?” asked Helen, alarmed at the expression on Janet’s face.
Janet handed her the sheet of paper.
“Go back to the sticks where you belong or you’ll get more of what happened last night. This means both of you.”
“Why, the nerve of some people,” stormed Helen. “I won’t be threatened into leaving.”
“Neither will I,” said Janet firmly, “but this thing is getting terribly serious. Last night I was made unconscious by some prowler and tonight Jim has disappeared with the script of our radio show.”
Janet paused and looked at the sheet of stationery in her hand. Then she lifted it to her nose and sniffed carefully. Helen looked on in wonderment and Janet finally handed the sheet to her.