The Greatest Works of Earl Derr Biggers (Illustrated Edition). Earl Derr Biggers
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her. "I'll drive, if you like."
"No, thanks—I guess I'd better. I know the roads."
"You're always so efficient, you make me nervous," he commented.
"I wasn't so efficient when it came to Eddie Boston. I'm sorry about that."
"Don't you worry. Eddie's a tough bird. Chan and I will try him presently."
"Where does the big mystery stand now?" asked the girl.
"It stands there leering at us," the boy replied. "Just as it always has." For a time they speculated on Madden's unexplained murder of Delaney. Meanwhile they were climbing between the hills, while the night gathered about them. Presently they dropped down into a green fertile valley, fragrant with the scent of blossoms.
"Um," sighed Eden, breathing deep. "Smells pretty. What is it?"
The girl glanced at him. "You poor, benighted soul. Orange blossoms."
"Oh! Well, naturally I couldn't be expected to know that."
"Of course not."
"The condemned man gets a rather pleasant whiff in his last moments, doesn't he? I suppose it acts like ether—and when he comes to, he's married." A reckless driver raced toward them on the wrong side of the road. "Look out!"
"I saw him coming," said the girl. "You're safe with me. How many times must I tell you that?"
They had dinner and a dance or two at an inn in Riverside, and all too soon, it seemed to Eden, arrived at Pasadena. The girl drove up before the Maryland Hotel, prepared to drop him.
"But look here," he protested. "I'll see you safely to Hollywood, of course."
"No need of that," she smiled. "I'm like you. I can take care of myself."
"Is that so?"
"Want to see me tomorrow?"
"Always want to see you tomorrow. Chan and I are coming over your way. Where can we find you?"
She told him she would be at the picture studio at one o'clock, and with a gay good-bye, disappeared down the brightly-lighted stretch of Colorado Street. Eden went in to a quiet night at the hotel.
After breakfast in the morning he recalled that an old college friend named Spike Bristol was reported in the class histories as living now in Pasadena. The telephone directory furnished Bristol's address, and Eden set out to find him. His friend turned out to be one of the more decorative features of a bond office.
"Bond salesman, eh?" said Eden, when the greetings were over.
"Yes—it was either that or real estate," replied Bristol. "I was undecided for some time. Finally I picked this."
"Of course," laughed Eden. "As any class history proves, gentlemen prefer bonds. How are you getting on?"
"Fine. All my old friends are buying from me."
"Ah, now I know why you were so glad to see me."
"Sure was. We have some very pretty first mortgage sixes—"
"I'll bet you have—and you can keep them. I'm here on business, Spike—private business. Keep what I say under your hat."
"Never wear one," answered Spike brightly. "That's the beauty of this climate—"
"You can't sell me the climate, either. Spike, you know P.J. Madden, don't you?"
"Well—we're not very chummy. He hasn't asked me to dinner. But of course all us big financiers are acquainted. As for Madden, I did him a service only a couple of days ago."
"Elucidate."
"This is just between us. Madden came in here Wednesday morning with a hundred and ten thousand dollars' worth of negotiable bonds—mostly Liberties—and we sold them for him the same day. Paid him in cash, too."
"Precisely what I wanted to know. Spike, I'd like to talk with somebody at Madden's bank about his actions there Wednesday."
"Who are you—Sherlock Holmes?"
"Well—" Eden thought of Chan. "I am connected with the police, temporarily." Spike whistled. "I may go so far as to say—and for heaven's sake keep it to yourself—that Madden is in trouble. At the present moment I'm stopping at his ranch on the desert, and I have every reason to believe he's being blackmailed."
Spike looked at him. "What if he is? That ought to be his business."
"It ought to be, but it isn't. A certain transaction with my father is involved. Do you know anybody at the Garfield Bank?"
"One of my best friends is cashier there. But you know these bankers—hard-boiled eggs. However, we'll have a try."
They went together to the marble precincts of the Garfield Bank. Spike held a long and earnest conversation with his friend. Presently he called Eden over and introduced him.
"How do you do," said the banker. "You realize that what Spike here suggests is quite irregular. But if he vouches for you, I suppose—What is it you want to know?"
"Madden was here on Wednesday. Just what happened?"
"Yes, Mr. Madden came in on Wednesday. We hadn't seen him for two years, and his coming caused quite a stir. He visited the safe deposit vaults and spent some time going through his box."
"Was he alone?"
"No, he wasn't," the banker replied. "His secretary, Thorn, who is well known to us, was with him. Also a little, middle-aged man whom I don't recall very clearly."
"Ah, yes. He examined his safety deposit box. Was that all?"
The banker hesitated. "No. He had wired his office in New York to deposit a rather large sum of money to our credit with the Federal Reserve Bank—but I'd really rather not say any more."
"You paid over to him that large sum of money?"
"I'm not saying we did. I'm afraid I've said too much already."
"You've been very kind," Eden replied. "I promise you won't regret it. Thank you very much."
He and Bristol returned to the street. "Thanks for your help, Spike," Eden remarked. "I'm leaving you here."
"Cast off like an old coat," complained Bristol. "How about lunch?"
"Sorry. Some other time. I must run along now. The station's down here, isn't it? I leave you to your climate."
"Sour grapes," returned Spike. "Don't go home and get lost in the fog. So long."
From the eleven o'clock train a quite different Charlie Chan alighted. He was dressed as Eden had seen him in San Francisco.
"Hello, Dapper Dan," the boy said.
Chan smiled. "Feel respected again," he explained. "Visited Barstow and rescued proper clothes. No cooking today, which makes life very pretty."
"Madden put up a fight when you left?"
"How could he do so? I leave before his awakening, dropping quaintly worded note at door. No doubt now his heart is heavy, thinking I have deserted forever. Happy surprise for him when Ah Kim returns to home nest."
"Well, Charlie, I've been busy," said Eden. He went over his activities of the morning. "When the old boy came back to the ranch the other night, he must have been oozing cash at every pore. I tell you, Holley's right. He's being blackmailed."
"Seems that way," agreed Chan. "Here is another thought. Madden has killed a man, and fears discovery. He gets huge sum together so if necessity arouses he can flee with plenty cash until affair blows overhead. How is that?"
"By George—it's possible," admitted Eden.
"To be considered," replied Chan. "Suggest now we visit caretaker at local home."
A yellow taxi carried them to Orange Grove Avenue. Chan's black eyes sparkled as they drove through the cheerful handsome city. When they