called. "I didn't realize the time. We'll begin immediately."
Diana went to her desk and got out her notebooks and reference works. The session passed slowly tonight; the references were sparse. She seemed to have reached a stodgy period in the late nineteenth century, and when the bell rang at the end she realized that she had not gleaned a single new fact about that elusive and tantalizing band, the Scorpia. I
She glanced up, acknowledging the good-nights of her colleagues, and then became aware that Miss Welch was back at her elbow.
"How did it go tonight, Diana?" she asked.
Diana shrugged. "Slowly and rather dully," she said. "I think it's about time I got started on the term paper. It looks as though I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel."
"Well," said Miss Welch, smiling, "you've had more publicity than a Nobel prize-winner."
"I didn't mean that," Diana explained. "I've become really interested in the Scorpia now, and just when I seemed on the verge of a breakthrough, the information dried up."
"It happens to all historians, amateur and professional," said Miss Welch, following Diana to the door. "The main thing is not to get discouraged. It's usually when one's on the point of giving up that something unusual happens."
"That's true," agreed Diana, switching off the library light as the two women closed the door behind them.
"The only trouble here is that I don't know how much more material there is," Diana went on as they walked to the main entrance hall of the University. "It's getting pretty sparse and I have a horrible suspicion I'm coming to the end of all the known records."
"Don't give up, Diana," said Miss Welch brightly as they picked their way down the main steps.
"Remember, all the material we sent for from the County Archives should be here soon."
"I'd forgotten that," said Diana, as the two women paused on the boulevard before parting to go their separate ways.
"Anyway, don't take it too seriously," Miss Welch added. "It's all good fun, and the University has never had so much publicity before! And our enrollment for next term has increased measurably."
"As long as it's done some good," said Diana laughing.
The two women said good-night, and Diana watched as she saw Miss Welch's sprightly form dart across the road and onto the opposite sidewalk. Her hand fluttered goodbye, and then she disappeared into a side street as Diana turned toward home. She was busily mulling over the thoughts in her mind, so that she hardly noticed where she walked. It was true that the Scorpia—and the shadowy figure of Kit Walker—had been occupying a great deal of her mind lately.
Her face softened as she thought of Kit again, and she instinctively slowed her pace.
She was on a dark section of the sidewalk, where heavily-blossomed trees sagged down toward the cement path. A sudden squealing of brakes cut through her reverie. She glanced up to see the gleaming bulk of a Cadillac blocking out the light from the opposite sidewalk.
A hard-faced man with blond hair and a scar on the side of his face rolled down the window. His eyes glittered dully in the gloom.
"Miss Palmer," he said in a harsh, dead voice. "I'd like a word with you."
8
EARLY WARNING
Cringle's face momentarily softened as he absorbed the details of Diana Palmer's appearance. He slid farther over on the seat so that he could clearly see this celebrated woman athlete.
Diana drew closer to the Cadillac.
"I'm Diana Palmer," she said. "What is it?"
Cringle lit a cigarette. The flaring match momentarily made a cavernous mask of his face. His scar stood out liv- idly. Diana suddenly shivered.
"You've been writing a paper. . ." Cringle began, killing the motor of the car.
"Yes, that's right," said Diana. She laughed. "I suppose you caught the TV, show."
"Right," said Cringle, nodding. "But you didn't let me finish, lady." He cleared his throat. "You've chosen a certain subject," he went on.
Diana's face clouded.
"Oh, you're from a newspaper," she said. "I don't usually give
Diana went to her desk and got out her notebooks and reference works. The session passed slowly tonight; the references were sparse. She seemed to have reached a stodgy period in the late nineteenth century, and when the bell rang at the end she realized that she had not gleaned a single new fact about that elusive and tantalizing band, the Scorpia. I
She glanced up, acknowledging the good-nights of her colleagues, and then became aware that Miss Welch was back at her elbow.
"How did it go tonight, Diana?" she asked.
Diana shrugged. "Slowly and rather dully," she said. "I think it's about time I got started on the term paper. It looks as though I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel."
"Well," said Miss Welch, smiling, "you've had more publicity than a Nobel prize-winner."
"I didn't mean that," Diana explained. "I've become really interested in the Scorpia now, and just when I seemed on the verge of a breakthrough, the information dried up."
"It happens to all historians, amateur and professional," said Miss Welch, following Diana to the door. "The main thing is not to get discouraged. It's usually when one's on the point of giving up that something unusual happens."
"That's true," agreed Diana, switching off the library light as the two women closed the door behind them.
"The only trouble here is that I don't know how much more material there is," Diana went on as they walked to the main entrance hall of the University. "It's getting pretty sparse and I have a horrible suspicion I'm coming to the end of all the known records."
"Don't give up, Diana," said Miss Welch brightly as they picked their way down the main steps.
"Remember, all the material we sent for from the County Archives should be here soon."
"I'd forgotten that," said Diana, as the two women paused on the boulevard before parting to go their separate ways.
"Anyway, don't take it too seriously," Miss Welch added. "It's all good fun, and the University has never had so much publicity before! And our enrollment for next term has increased measurably."
"As long as it's done some good," said Diana laughing.
The two women said good-night, and Diana watched as she saw Miss Welch's sprightly form dart across the road and onto the opposite sidewalk. Her hand fluttered goodbye, and then she disappeared into a side street as Diana turned toward home. She was busily mulling over the thoughts in her mind, so that she hardly noticed where she walked. It was true that the Scorpia—and the shadowy figure of Kit Walker—had been occupying a great deal of her mind lately.
Her face softened as she thought of Kit again, and she instinctively slowed her pace.
She was on a dark section of the sidewalk, where heavily-blossomed trees sagged down toward the cement path. A sudden squealing of brakes cut through her reverie. She glanced up to see the gleaming bulk of a Cadillac blocking out the light from the opposite sidewalk.
A hard-faced man with blond hair and a scar on the side of his face rolled down the window. His eyes glittered dully in the gloom.
"Miss Palmer," he said in a harsh, dead voice. "I'd like a word with you."
8
EARLY WARNING
Cringle's face momentarily softened as he absorbed the details of Diana Palmer's appearance. He slid farther over on the seat so that he could clearly see this celebrated woman athlete.
Diana drew closer to the Cadillac.
"I'm Diana Palmer," she said. "What is it?"
Cringle lit a cigarette. The flaring match momentarily made a cavernous mask of his face. His scar stood out liv- idly. Diana suddenly shivered.
"You've been writing a paper. . ." Cringle began, killing the motor of the car.
"Yes, that's right," said Diana. She laughed. "I suppose you caught the TV, show."
"Right," said Cringle, nodding. "But you didn't let me finish, lady." He cleared his throat. "You've chosen a certain subject," he went on.
Diana's face clouded.
"Oh, you're from a newspaper," she said. "I don't usually give
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