Madden's expecting the messenger with the pearls then, and somehow, I haven't a stall left in me."
Chan shrugged. "Two days yet. Stop the worry. Much may manage to occur before Tuesday afternoon." He went out softly.
Just as they finished breakfast on Monday morning, a knock sounded on the door of the ranch house, and Thorn admitted Will Holley.
"Oh," said Madden sourly. His manner had not improved overnight. "So you're here again."
"Naturally," replied Holley. "Being a good newspaper man, I'm not overlooking the first murder we've had round here in years." He handed a newspaper to the millionaire. "By the way, here's a Los Angeles morning paper. Our interview is on the front page."
Madden took it without much interest. Over his shoulder Bob Eden caught a glimpse of the headlines:
ERA OF PROSPERITY DUE, SAYS FAMED MAGNATE
P.J. Madden, Interviewed on Desert Ranch, Predicts Business Boom
Madden glanced idly through the story. When he had finished, he said: "In the New York papers, I suppose?"
"Of course," Holley answered. "All over the country this morning. You and I are famous, Mr. Madden. But what's this about poor old Louie?"
"Don't ask me," frowned Madden. "Some fool bumped him off. Your friend Eden can tell you more than I can." He got up and strode from the room.
Eden and Holley stared at each other for a moment, then went together into the yard.
"Pretty raw stuff," remarked Holley. "It makes me hot. Louie was a kindly old soul. Killed in the car, I understand."
Eden related what had happened. They moved farther away from the house.
"Well, who do you think?" Holley inquired.
"I think Thorn," Eden answered. "However, Charlie says Louie's passing was just a minor incident, and it will be better all round if his murderer isn't found just at present. Of course he's right."
"Of course he is. And there isn't much danger they'll catch the guilty man, at that. The constable is a helpless old fellow."
"How about this Captain Bliss?"
"Oh, he's a big noisy bluff with a fatal facility for getting the wrong man. The sheriff's a regular fellow, with brains, but he may not come round. Let's stroll out and look over the ground where you left the car last night. I've got something to slip you, a telegram—from your father, I imagine."
As they went through the gate, the telegram changed hands. Holding it so it could not be seen from the house, Bob Eden read it through.
"Well, dad says he's going to put up the bluff to Madden that's he's sending Draycott with the pearls tonight."
"Draycott?" asked Holley.
"He's a private detective dad uses in San Francisco. As good a name as any, I suppose. When Draycott fails to arrive, dad's going to be very much upset." The boy considered for a moment. "I guess it's about the best he can do—but I hate all this deception. And I certainly don't like the job of keeping Madden cool. However, something may happen before then."
They examined the ground where Bob Eden had halted the car while he opened the gate the night before. The tracks of many cars passing in the road were evident—but no sign of any footsteps. "Even my footprints are gone," remarked Eden. "Do you suppose it was the wind, drifting the sand—"
Holley shrugged. "No," he said. "It was not. Somebody has been out here with a broom, my boy, and obliterated every trace of footsteps about that car."
Eden nodded. "You're right. Somebody—but who? Our old friend Thorn, of course."
They stepped aside as an automobile swung by them and entered Madden's yard.
"There's Bliss, now, with the constable," Holley remarked. "Well, they get no help from us, eh?"
"Not a bit," replied Eden. "Encourage them off the ranch at earliest possible moment. That's Charlie's suggestion."
They returned to the yard and waited. Inside the living-room they heard Thorn and Madden talking with the two officers. After a time, Bliss came out, followed by the millionaire and Constable Brackett. He greeted Holley as an old friend, and the editor introduced Bob Eden.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Eden," said the captain. "Want to talk to you. What's your version of this funny business?"
Bob Eden looked at him with distaste. He was a big, flat-footed policeman of the usual type, and no great intelligence shone in his eyes. The boy gave him a carefully edited story of the night before.
"Humph," said Bliss. "Sounds queer to me."
"Yes?" smiled Eden. "To me, too. But it happens to be the truth."
"Well, I'll have a look at the ground out there," remarked Bliss.
"You'll find nothing," said Holley. "Except the footprints of this young man and myself. We've just been taking a squint around."
"Oh, you have, have you?" replied Bliss grimly. He strode through the gate, the constable tagging after him. After a perfunctory examination the two returned.
"This is sure some puzzle," said Constable Brackett.
"Is that so?" Bliss sneered. "Well, get on to yourself. How about this Chink, Ah Kim? Had a good job here, didn't he? Louie Wong comes back. What does that mean? Ah Kim loses his job."
"Nonsense," protested Madden.
"Think so, do you?" remarked Bliss. "Well, I don't. I tell you I know these Chinks. They think nothing of sticking knives in each other. Nothing at all." Ah Kim emerged from around the side of the house. "Hey, you," cried Captain Bliss. Bob Eden began to worry.
Ah Kim came up. "You want'um me, boss?"
"You bet I want you. Going to lock you up."
"Why foah, boss?"
"For knifing Louie Wong. You can't get away with that stuff round here."
The Chinese regarded this crude practitioner of his own arts with a lifeless eye. "You crazy, boss," he said.
"Is that so?" Bliss's face hardened. "I'll show you just how crazy I am. Better tell me the whole story now. It'll go a lot easier with you if you do."
"What stoahy, boss?"
"How you sneaked out and put a knife in Louie last night."
"Maybe you catch 'um knife, hey, boss?" asked Ah Kim, maliciously.
"Never mind about that!"
"Poah old Ah Kim's fingah prints on knife, hey, boss?"
"Oh, shut up," said Bliss.
"Maybe you takee look-see, find velvet slippah prints in sand, hey, boss?" Bliss glared at him in silence. "What I tell you—you crazy cop, hey, boss?"
Holley and Eden
