She glanced at the tall grandfather clock in the corner. “It’s not quite ten o’clock in California now,” she said. “I’ll go upstairs and call.”
“But what if it’s an unlisted phone number?” Amy asked.
“Oh-oh,” said Peggy. “You’re right, of course, Amy. A famous star like Stacy Blair would never have a listed number. She’d be bothered to death.” She sighed impatiently. “Well, I’ll just have to send her a wire.”
“Wait a minute, Peggy,” May Berriman said suddenly. “I know someone who’s a close friend of the Andrews, and she’s right here in New York. Let me call her. She’s bound to know their number.”
May went up the stairs with surprising agility while the three girls waited in excited silence. She soon returned waving a slip of paper and announced dramatically, “I’ve got it!”
Peggy stood up and crossed the room. May handed her the slip on which the number was written. At the foot of the stairs, Peggy paused and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please wait up for me, will you?”
“You couldn’t get us to bed now at gunpoint!” Greta said.
Peggy went upstairs and put through the call. The Andrews telephone was answered by a woman.
“Andrews residence,” she said crisply.
“I’d like to speak to Mrs. Andrews,” Peggy said.