“Naturally,” said Eden. “Everything in this world would be all right, if every man in it could only see you.”
“Sounds like a compliment,” she smiled.
“Meant to be,” replied the boy. “But what makes it sound so cumbersome? I must brush up on my social chatter.”
“Oh—then it was only chatter?”
“Please—don’t look too closely at what I say. I may tell you I’ve got a lot on my mind just now. I’m trying to be a business man, and it’s some strain.”
“Then you’re not a real business man?”
“Not a real anything. Just sort of drifting. You know, you made me think last night.”
“I’m proud of that.”
“Now—don’t spoof me. I got to thinking—here you are, earning your living—luxurious pot roasts at the Oasis and all that—while I’m just Father’s little boy. I shouldn’t be surprised if you inspired me to turn over a new leaf.”
“Then I shan’t have lived in vain.” She nodded toward the far side of the room. “What in the world is the meaning of that arsenal?”
“Oh—that’s gentle old Madden’s collection of firearms. A hobby of his. Come on over and I’ll teach you to call each one by name.”
Presently Madden and Thorn returned, and Ah Kim served a perfect lunch. At the table Thorn said nothing, but his employer, under the spell of the girl’s bright eyes, talked volubly and well. As they finished coffee Bob Eden suddenly awoke to the fact that the big clock near the patio windows marked the hour as five minutes of two. At two o’clock! There was that arrangement with Chan regarding two o’clock. What were they to do? The impassive face of the Oriental as he served lunch had told the boy nothing.
Madden was in the midst of a long story about his early struggle toward wealth, when the Chinese came suddenly into the room. He stood there, and, though he did not speak, his manner halted the millionaire as effectively as a pistol-shot.
“Well, well, what is it?” Madden demanded.
“Death,” said Ah Kim solemnly in his high-pitched voice. “Death unevitable end. No wolly. No solly.”
“What in Sam Hill are you talking about?” Madden inquired. Thorn’s pale green eyes were bulging.
“Poah litta Tony,” went on Ah Kim.
“What about Tony?”
“Poah litta Tony enjoy happly noo yeah in Hadesland,” finished Ah Kim.
Madden was instantly on his feet, and led the way to the patio. On the stone floor beneath his perch lay the lifeless body of the Chinese parrot.
The millionaire stooped and picked up the bird. “Why—poor old Tony,” he said. “He’s gone west. He’s dead.”
Eden’s eyes were on Thorn. For the first time since he met that gentleman he thought he detected the ghost of a smile on the secretary’s pale face.
“Well, Tony was old,” continued Madden. “A very old boy. And as Ah Kim says, death is inevitable—” He stopped, and looked keenly at the expressionless face of the Chinese. “I’ve been expecting this,” he added. “Tony hasn’t seemed very well of late. Here, Ah Kim”—he handed over all that was mortal of Tony—“you take and bury him somewhere.”
“I take ’um,” said Ah Kim, and did so.
In the big living-room the clock struck twice, loud and clear. Ah Kim, in the person of Charlie Chan, was moving slowly away, the bird in his arms. He was muttering glibly in Chinese. Suddenly he looked back over his shoulder.
“Hoomalimali,” he said clearly.
Bob Eden remembered his Hawaiian.
VII
The Postman Sets Out
The three men and the girl returned to the living-room but Madden’s flow of small talk was stilled, and the sparkle was gone from his luncheon party.
“Poor Tony,” the millionaire said when they had sat down. “It’s like the passing of an old friend. Five years ago he came to me.” He was silent for a long time, staring into space.
Presently the girl rose. “I really must be getting back to town,” she announced. “It was thoughtful of you to invite me to lunch, Mr. Madden, and I appreciate it. I can count on Thursday, then?”
“Yes—if nothing new comes up. In that case, where could I reach you?”
“I’ll be at the Desert Edge—but nothing must come up. I’m relying on the word of P. J. Madden.”
“Nothing will, I’m sure. Sorry you have to go.”
Bob Eden came forward. “I think I’ll take a little fling at city life myself,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to ride into Eldorado with you.”
“Delighted,” she smiled. “But I’m not sure I can bring you back.”
“Oh, no—I don’t want you to. I’ll walk back.”
“You needn’t do that,” said Madden. “It seems that Ah Kim can drive a flivver—a rather remarkable boy, Ah Kim.” He was thoughtfully silent for a moment. “I’m sending him to town later in the afternoon for supplies. Our larder’s rather low. He’ll pick you up.” The Chinese entered to clear away. “Ah Kim, you’re to bring Mr. Eden back with you this evening.”
“Allight. I bling ’um,” said Ah Kim, without interest.
“I’ll meet you in front of the hotel any time you say,” suggested Eden.
Ah Kim regarded him sourly. “Maybe flive ’clock,” he said.
“Fine. At five, then.”
“You late, you no catch ’um lide,” warned the Chinese.
“I’ll be there,” the boy promised. He went to his room and got a cap. When he returned Madden was waiting.
“In case your father calls this afternoon, I’ll tell him you want that matter rushed through,” he said.
Eden’s heart sank. He hadn’t thought of that. Suppose his father returned to the office unexpectedly—but no, that was unlikely. And it wouldn’t do to show alarm and change his plans now.
“Surely,” he remarked carelessly. “If he isn’t satisfied without a word from me, tell him to call again about six.”
When he stepped into the yard the girl was skilfully turning her car about. He officiated at the gate, and joined her in the sandy road.
The car moved off and Eden got his first unimpeded look at this queer world Holley
