“Mr. Madden?” inquired the newcomer.
“I’m Madden,” said the millionaire. “What is it?”
“Ah, yes.” The stranger came into the room, and set down his bag. “My name, sir, is Gamble, Thaddeus Gamble, and I am keenly interested in certain fauna surrounding your desert home. I have here a letter from an old friend of yours, the president of a college that has received many benefactions at your hands. If you will be so kind as to look it over—”
He offered the letter, and Madden took it, glaring at him in a most unfriendly manner. When the millionaire had read the brief epistle he tore it into bits and, rising, tossed them into the fireplace.
“You want to stop here a few days?” he said.
“It would be most convenient if I could,” answered Gamble. “Of course, I should like to pay for my accommodation—”
Madden waved his hand. Ah Kim came in, headed for the luncheon-table. “Another place, Ah Kim,” ordered Madden. “And show Mr. Gamble to the room in the left wing—the one next to Mr. Eden’s.”
“Very kind of you, I’m sure,” remarked Gamble suavely. “I shall try to make as little trouble as may be. Luncheon impends, I take it. Not unwelcome, either. This—er—this desert air, sir—er—I’ll return in a moment.”
He followed Ah Kim out. Madden glared after him, his face purple. Bob Eden realized that a new puzzle had arrived.
“The devil with him,” cried Madden. “But I had to be polite. That letter.” He shrugged. “Gad, I hope I get out of here soon.”
Bob Eden continued to wonder. Who was Mr. Gamble? What did he want at Madden’s ranch?
XI
Thorn Goes on a Mission
Whatever Mr. Gamble’s mission at the ranch, Bob Eden reflected during lunch, it was obviously a peaceful one. Seldom had he encountered a milder-mannered little chap. All through the meal the newcomer talked volubly and well, with the gentle, cultivated accent of a scholar. Madden was sour and unresponsive; evidently he still resented the intrusion of this stranger. Thorn as usual sat silent and aloof, a depressing figure in the black suit he had today donned to replace the one torn so mysteriously the night before. It fell to Bob Eden to come to Mr. Gamble’s aid and keep the conversation going.
The luncheon over, Gamble rose and went to the door. For a moment he stood staring out across the blazing sand in the direction of the cool, white tops of the mountains, far away.
“Magnificent,” he commented. “I wonder, Mr. Madden, if you realize the true grandeur of this setting for your ranch-house? The desert, the broad, lonely desert, that has from time immemorial cast its weird spell on the souls of men. Some find it bleak and disquieting, but as for myself—”
“Be here long?” cut in Madden.
“Ah, that depends. I sincerely hope so. I want to see this country after the spring rains—the verbena and the primroses in bloom. The thought enchants me. What says the prophet Isaiah? ‘And the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. And the parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water.’ You know Isaiah, Mr. Madden?”
“No, I don’t. I know too many people now,” responded Madden grimly.
“I believe you said you were interested in the fauna round here, professor?” Bob Eden remarked.
Gamble looked at him quickly. “You give me my title,” he said. “You are an observant young man. Yes, there are certain researches I intend to pursue—the tail of the kangaroo-rat, which attains here a phenomenal length. The maxillary arch in the short-nosed pocket-mouse, I understand, has also reached in this neighbourhood an eccentric development.”
The telephone rang, and Madden himself answered it. Listening carefully, Bob Eden heard: “Telegram for Mr. Madden.” At this point the millionaire pressed the receiver close to his ear, and the rest of the message was an indistinct blur.
Eden was sorry for that, for he perceived that as Madden listened an expression of keen distress came over his face. When finally he put the receiver slowly back on to its hook he sat for a long time looking straight before him, obviously very much perplexed.
“What do you grow here in this sandy soil, Mr. Madden?” Professor Gamble inquired.
“Er—er—” Madden came gradually back to the scene. “What do I grow? A lot of things. You’d be surprised, and so would Isaiah.” Gamble was smiling at him in a kindly way, and the millionaire warmed up a little. “Come out, since you’re interested, and I’ll show you round.”
“Very good of you, sir,” replied Gamble, and meekly followed into the patio. Thorn rose and joined them. Quickly Eden went to the telephone and got Will Holley on the wire.
“Look here,” he said in a low voice, “Madden has just taken a telegram over the phone, and it seemed to worry him considerably. I couldn’t make out what it was, but I’d like to know at once. Do you stand well enough with the operator to find out—without rousing suspicion, of course?”
“Sure,” Holley replied. “That kid will tell me anything. Are you alone there? Can I call you back in a few minutes?”
“I’m alone just now,” Eden responded. “If I shouldn’t be when you call back, I’ll pretend you want Madden and turn you over to him. You can fake something to say. But if you hurry that may not be necessary. Speed, brother, speed!”
As he turned away Ah Kim came in to gather up the luncheon things.
“Well, Charlie,” Eden remarked. “Another guest at our little hotel, eh?”
Chan shrugged. “Such news comes plenty
