it—and now—"
"What?"
"The prisoner hesitates. He's frightened at the thought of leaving his nice quiet cell. New York! Not the old New York I knew. Could I tackle it again, and win? I wonder."
"Nonsense," Eden answered. "Of course you could."
A determined look passed over Holley's face. "I'll try it," he said. "I'll go. Why the devil should I throw my life away out here? Yes—I'll tackle Park Row again."
He left Eden at the ranch. The boy went at once to his room, and as soon as he had freshened up a bit, stepped into the patio. Ah Kim passed.
"Anything new?" whispered Eden.
"Thorn and Gamble away all day in big car," the Chinese replied. "Nothing more." It was obvious he was still sunk in bafflement.
In the living-room Eden found the millionaire sitting aimless and lonely. Madden perked up at the boy's arrival. "Back safe, eh?" he said. "Did you find Draycott? You can speak out. We're alone here."
Eden dropped into a chair. "It's all set, sir. I'll give you the Phillimore pearls at eight o'clock tonight."
"Where?"
"Here at the ranch."
Madden frowned. "I'd rather it had been at Eldorado. You mean Draycott's coming here—"
"No, I don't. I'll have the pearls at eight o'clock, and I'll give them to you. If you want the transaction kept private, that can be arranged."
"Good." Madden looked at him. "Maybe you've got them now?" he suggested.
"No. But I'll have them at eight."
"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear it," Madden replied. "But I want to tell you right here that if you're stalling again—"
"What do you mean—stalling?"
"You heard me. Do you think I'm a fool. Ever since you came you've been stalling about that necklace. Haven't you?"
Eden hesitated. The moment had come for a bit of frankness, it seemed. "I have," he admitted.
"Why?"
"Because, Mr. Madden, I thought there was something wrong here."
"Why did you think that?"
"Before I tell you—what made you change your mind in the first place? In San Francisco you wanted the necklace delivered in New York. Why did you switch to Southern California?"
"A simple reason," Madden replied. "I thought up there that my daughter was going east with me. Her plans are altered—she's going at once to Pasadena for the balance of the season. And I propose to put the necklace in safety deposit there for her use when she wants it."
"I met your daughter in San Francisco," Eden said. "She's a very charming girl."
Madden looked at him keenly. "You think so, do you?"
"I do. I presume she is still in Denver?"
For a moment Madden was silent, regarding him. "No," he admitted finally, "she is not in Denver now."
"Indeed. If you don't mind telling me—"
"She is in Los Angeles, visiting friends."
At this surprising information, Eden's eyes opened wide.
"How long has she been there?" he inquired.
"Since last Tuesday," Madden answered. "I think it was Tuesday—I got a wire saying she was coming here. I didn't want her here, for certain reasons, so I sent Thorn in to meet her, with instructions to take her back to Barstow and put her on the Los Angeles train."
Eden thought fast. Barstow was about the proper distance away to account for the mileage on the big car. But where was the red clay on station platforms hereabouts?
"You're certain she reached Los Angeles safely?" he asked.
"Of course. I saw her there on Wednesday. Now, I've answered all your questions. It's your turn. Why did you think something was wrong here?"
"What has become of Shaky Phil Maydorf?" countered Eden.
"Who?"
"Shaky Phil—the lad who called himself McCallum, and who won forty-seven dollars from me at poker here the other night?"
"You mean his name was really Maydorf?" inquired Madden with interest.
"I certainly do. I had some experience with Maydorf in San Francisco."
"In what way?"
"He acted as though he was trying to annex the Phillimore pearls."
Madden's face was purple again. "Is that so? Would you mind telling me about it?"
"Not at all," replied Eden. He narrated Maydorf's activities at the pier, but failed to mention the connection with Louie Wong.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" demanded Madden.
"Because I thought you knew it. I still think so."
"You're crazy."
"Maybe. We won't go into that. But when I saw Maydorf down here, it was natural to suspect something was wrong. I'm not convinced yet that it isn't. Why not go back to the original plan and deliver the pearls in New York?"
Madden shook his head. "No. I've set out to get them here, and I'll go through with it. Anybody will tell you I'm no quitter."
"Then at least tell me what the trouble is."
"There is no trouble," Madden replied. "At least, none that I can't handle myself. It's my own affair. I've bought the pearls and I want them. I give you my word that you'll be paid, which is all that need concern you."
"Mr. Madden," said the boy, "I'm not blind. You're in a jam of some sort, and I'd like to help you."
Madden turned, and his tired harassed face was ample proof of Eden's statement. "I'll get out of it," he said. "I've got out of worse holes. I thank you for your kind intentions, but don't you worry about me. At eight o'clock then—I'm relying on you. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll lie down. I anticipate a rather busy evening."
He went from the room, and Bob Eden stared after him, perplexed and at sea. Had he gone too far with the millionaire—told him too much? And how about this news of Evelyn Madden? Could it be true? Was she really in Los Angeles? It sounded plausible enough, and her father's manner when he spoke of her seemed frankness itself.
Oh, well—the heat on the desert was now a tangible thing, wave on wave of filmy haze. Eden was weary with his many problems. He followed Madden's example, and slept the afternoon away.
When he rose, the sun was sinking and the cool night coming on. He heard Gamble in the bathroom. Gamble—who was Gamble? Why was he allowed to remain on Madden's ranch?
In
