The Greatest Works of Earl Derr Biggers (Illustrated Edition). Earl Derr Biggers
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just what he's done." Eden related the purport of the millionaire's call on him the night before.
"What you know concerning that!" exclaimed Chan wonderingly.
"Well, I know this much," Eden answered. "It gives us one more day for the good old hoo malimali. Outside of that, it's just another problem for us to puzzle over. By the way, I didn't tell you why Doctor Whitcomb came to see us last night."
"No necessity," Chan replied. "I am loafing idle inside door close by and hear it all."
"Oh, you were? Then you know it may have been Shaky Phil, and not Thorn, who killed Louie?"
"Shaky Phil—or maybe stranger in car who drive up and call him into road. Must admit that stranger interests me very deep. Who was he? Was it maybe him who carried news of Louie's approach out on to dreary desert?"
"Well, if you're starting to ask me questions," replied Eden, "then the big mystery is over and we may as well wash up and go home. For I haven't got an answer in me." Eldorado lay before them, its roofs gleaming under the morning sun. "By the way, let's drop in and see Holley. The train isn't due yet—I suppose I'd better take it, somebody might be watching. In the interval, Holley may have news."
The editor was busy at his desk. "Hello, you're up and around pretty early this morning," he said. He pushed aside his typewriter. "Just dashing off poor old Louie's obit. What's new out at Mystery Ranch?"
Bob Eden told him of Doctor Whitcomb's call, also of Madden's latest switch regarding the pearls, and his own imminent wild goose chase to Barstow.
Holley smiled. "Cheer up—a little travel will broaden you," he remarked. "What did you think of Miss Evelyn? But then, I believe you had met her before."
"Think of Miss Evelyn? What do you mean?" asked Eden, surprised.
"Why, she came last night, didn't she?"
"Not so anybody could notice it. No sign of her at the ranch."
Holley rose and walked up and down for a moment. "That's odd. That's very odd. She certainly arrived on the six-forty train."
"You're sure of that?" Eden asked.
"Of course I am. I saw her." Holley sat down again. "I wasn't very much occupied last night—it was one of my free nights—I have three hundred and sixty-five of them every year. So I strolled over to the station and met the six-forty. Thorn was there, too. A tall handsome girl got off the train, and I heard Thorn address her as Miss Evelyn. 'How's dad?' she asked. 'Get in,' said Thorn, 'and I'll tell you about him. He wasn't able to come to meet you himself.' The girl entered the car, and they drove away. Naturally, I thought she was brightening your life long before this."
Eden shook his head. "Funny business," he commented. "Thorn got back to the ranch a little after ten, and when he came he was alone. Charlie here discovered, with his usual acumen, that the car had traveled some thirty-nine miles."
"Also clinging to accelerator, as though scraped off from shoe of Thorn, small fragment of red clay," added Chan. "You are accustomed round here, Mr. Holley. Maybe you can mention home of red clay."
"Not offhand," replied Holley. "There are several places—But say, this thing gets deeper and deeper. Oh—I was forgetting—there's a letter here for you, Eden."
He handed over a neat missive addressed in an old-fashioned hand. Eden inspected it with interest. It was from Madame Jordan, a rather touching appeal not to let the deal for the pearls fall through. He went back and began to read it aloud. Mrs. Jordan could not understand. Madden was there, he had bought the pearls—why the delay? The loss of that money would be serious for her.
When he had finished, Eden looked accusingly at Chan, then tore the letter to bits and threw them into a wastepaper basket. "I'm about through," he said. "That woman is one of the dearest old souls that ever lived, and it strikes me we're treating her shamefully. After all, what's happening out at Madden's ranch is none of our business. Our duty to Madame Jordan—"
"Pardon me," broke in Chan, "but coming to that, I have sense of duty most acute myself. Loyalty blooms in my heart forever—"
"Well, and what do you think we ought to do?" demanded Eden.
"Watch and wait."
"But good lord—we've done that. I was thinking about it this morning. One inexplicable event after another, and never anything definite, anything we can get our teeth into. Such a state of affairs may go on forever. I tell you, I'm fed up."
"Patience," said Chan, "are a very lovely virtue. Through long centuries Chinese cultivate patience like kind gardener tending flowers. White men leap about similar to bug in bottle. Which are better method, I inquire?"
"But listen, Charlie. All this stuff we've discovered out at the ranch—that's for the police."
"For stupid Captain Bliss, maybe. He with the feet of large extensiveness."
"I can't help the size of his feet. What's that got to do with it? No, sir—I can't see why we don't give Madden the pearls, get his receipt, and then send for the sheriff and tell him the whole story. After that, he can worry about who was killed at Madden's ranch."
"He would solve the problem," scoffed Chan. "Great mind, no doubt, like Captain Bliss. Your thought has, from me, nothing but hot opposition."
"Well, but I'm considering Madame Jordan. I've got her interests at heart."
Chan patted him on the back. "Who can question that? You fine young fellow, loyal and kind. But, listen now to older heads. Mr. Holley, you have inclination to intrude your oar?"
"I certainly have," smiled Holley. "I'm all on the side of Chan, Eden. It would be a pity to drop this thing now. The sheriff's a good sort, but all this would be too deep for him. No, wait just a little while—"
"All right," sighed Eden. "I'll wait. Provided you tell me one thing. What are we waiting for?"
"Madden goes to Pasadena tomorrow," Chan suggested. "No doubt Thorn will accompany, and we quench this Gamble somehow. Great time for us. All our search at ranch up to now hasty and breathless, like man pursuing trolley-car. Tomorrow we dig deep."
"You can do it," replied Eden. "I'm not eager to dig for the sort of prize you want." He paused. "At that, I must admit I'm pretty curious myself. Charlie, you're an old friend of the Jordans, and you can take the responsibility for this delay."
"Right here on shoulders," Chan agreed, "responsibility reclines. Same way necklace reposes on stomach. Seem to coddle there now, those Phillimore pearls, happy and content. Humbly suggest you take this aimless journey to Barstow."
Eden looked at his watch. "I suppose I might as well. Bit of city life never did anybody any harm. But I warn you that when I come back, I want a little light. If any more dark, mysterious things happen at that ranch, I certainly will run right out into the middle of the desert and scream."
Taking the train proved an excellent plan, for on the station platform he met Paula Wendell, who evidently had the same idea. She was trim and charming in riding togs, and her eyes sparkled with life.
"Hello," she said. "Where are you bound?"
"Going to Barstow, on business," Eden explained.
"Is it important?"
"Naturally. Wouldn't squander my vast talents on any other kind."
A dinky little train wandered in, and they found a seat together in one of its two cars.
"Sorry to hear you're needed in Barstow," remarked the girl. "I'm getting off a few stations down. Going to rent a horse and take a long ride up into Lonely Canyon. It wouldn't have been so lonely if you could have come along."
Eden smiled happily. Certainly one had few opportunities to look into eyes like hers. "What station do we get off at?" he inquired.
"We? I thought you said—"
"The truth isn't in me, these days. Barstow doesn't need