ten, and Bob Eden announced his intention of stopping for the night at the station hotel. After a brief talk with the man at the ticket-window, Chan rejoined him.
"I take room that neighbors the one occupied by you," he said. "Next train for Eldorado leaves at five o'clock in morning. I am on her when she goes. Much better you await subsequent train at eleven-ten. Not so good if we return to ranch like Siamese twins. Soon enough that blundering Bliss will reveal our connection."
"Suit yourself, Charlie," returned Eden. "If you've got the strength of character to get up and take a five o'clock train, you'll have my best wishes. And those wishes, I may add, will be extended in my sleep."
Chan got his suitcase from the parcel-room and they went upstairs. But Eden did not at once prepare for bed. Instead he sat down, his head in his hands, and tried to think.
The door between the two rooms opened suddenly, and Chan stood on the threshold. He held in his hand a luminous string of pearls.
"Just to reassure," he smiled. "The Phillimore fortune is still safe."
He laid the pearls on the table, under a brilliant light. Bob Eden reached over, and thoughtfully ran them through his fingers.
"Lovely, aren't they?" he said. "Look here, Charlie—you and I must have a frank talk." Chan nodded. "Tell me, and tell me the truth—have you got the faintest glimmering as to what's doing out at Madden's ranch?"
"One recent day," said Chan, "I thought—"
"Yes?"
"But I was wrong."
"Precisely. I know it's a tough thing for a detective to admit, but you're absolutely stumped, aren't you?"
"You have stumped feeling yourself, maybe—"
"All right—I'll answer the question for you. You are. You're up against it, and we can't go on. Tomorrow afternoon I come back to the ranch. I'm supposed to have seen Draycott—more lies, more deception. I'm sick of it, and besides, something tells me it won't work any longer. No, Charlie—we're at the zero hour. We've got to give up the pearls."
Chan's face saddened. "Please do not say so," he pleaded. "At any moment—"
"I know—you want more time. Your professional pride is touched. I can understand, and I'm sorry."
"Just a few hours," suggested Chan.
Eden looked for a long moment at the kindly face of the Chinese. He shook his head. "It's not only me—it's Bliss. Bliss will come thumping in presently. We're at the end of our rope. I'll make one last concession—I'll give you until eight o'clock tomorrow night. That's provided Bliss doesn't show up in the interval. Do you agree?"
"I must," said Chan.
"Very good. You'll have all day tomorrow. When I come back, I won't bother with that bunk about Draycott. I'll simply say: 'Mr. Madden, the pearls will be here at eight o'clock.' At that hour, if nothing has happened, we'll hand them over and go. On our way home we'll put our story before the sheriff, and if he laughs at us, we've at least done our duty." Eden sighed with relief. He stood up. "Thank heaven, that's settled."
Gloomily Chan picked up the pearls. "Not happy position for me," he said, "that I must come to this mainland and be sunk in bafflement." His face brightened. "But another day. Much may happen."
Eden patted his broad back. "Lord knows I wish you luck," he said. "Good night."
When Eden awakened to consciousness the following morning, the sun was gleaming on the tracks outside his window. He took the train for Eldorado and dropped in at Holley's office.
"Hello," said the editor. "Back at last, eh? Your little pal is keener on the job than you are. He went through here early this morning."
"Oh, Chan's ambitious," Eden replied. "You saw him, did you?"
"Yes." Holley nodded toward a suitcase in the corner. "He left his regular clothes with me. Expects to put 'em on in a day or two, I gather."
"Probably going to wear them to jail," replied Eden glumly. "I suppose he told you about Bliss."
"He did. And I'm afraid it means trouble."
"I'm sure it does. As you probably know, we dug up very little down the valley."
Holley nodded. "Yes—and what you did dig up was mostly in support of my blackmail theory. Something has happened here, too, that goes to confirm my suspicions."
"What's that?"
"Madden's New York office has arranged to send him another fifty thousand, through the bank here. I was just talking to the president. He doesn't think he can produce all that in cash before tomorrow, and Madden has agreed to wait."
Eden considered. "No doubt your theory's the right one. The old boy's being blackmailed. Though Chan has made a rather good suggestion—he thinks Madden may be getting this money together—"
"I know—he told me. But that doesn't explain Shaky Phil and the professor. No, I prefer my version. Though I must admit it's the most appalling puzzle—"
"I'll say it is," Eden replied. "And to my mind we've done all that's humanly possible to solve it. I'm handing over the pearls tonight. I presume Chan told you that?"
Holley nodded. "Yes—you're breaking his heart. But from your view-point, you're absolutely right. There's a limit to everything, and you seem to have reached it. However, I'm praying something happens before tonight."
"So am I," said Eden. "If it doesn't, I don't see how I can bring myself to—but doggone it! There's Madame Jordan. It's nothing to her that Madden's killed a man."
"It's been a difficult position for you, my boy," Holley replied. "You've handled it well. I'll pray my hardest—and I did hear once of a newspaper man whose prayers were answered. But that was years ago."
Eden stood up. "I must get back to the ranch. Seen Paula Wendell today?"
"Saw her at breakfast down at the Oasis. She was on the point of starting for the Petticoat Mine." Holley smiled. "But don't worry—I'll take you out to Madden's."
"No, you won't. I'll hire a car—"
"Forget it. Paper's off the press now, and I'm at an even looser end than usual. Come along."
Once more Horace Greeley carried them up the rough road between the hills. As they rattled down to the blazing floor of the desert, the editor yawned.
"I didn't sleep much last night," he explained.
"Thinking about Jerry Delaney?" asked the boy.
Holley shook his head. "No—something has happened—something that concerns me alone. That interview with Madden has inspired my old friend in New York to offer me a job there—a mighty good job. Yesterday afternoon I had a doctor in Eldorado look me over and he told me I could go."
"That's great!" Eden cried. "I'm mighty happy for your sake."
An odd look had come into Holley's eyes. "Yes," he said, "the prison door swings open, after all these years. I've dreamed
