“I’ll be watching,” Eden answered. “Well, shall we go along?”
In front of the Desert Edge Hotel Bob Eden held out his hand to the girl. “The end of a perfect day,” he said. “Except for one thing.”
“Yes? What thing?”
“Wilbur. I’m beginning to find the thought of him intolerable.”
“Poor Jack. You’re so hard on him. Good night—and—”
“And what?”
“Be careful, won’t you? Out at the ranch I mean.”
“Always careful—on ranches—everywhere. Good night.”
As they sped over the dark road to Madden’s, Chan was thoughtfully silent. He and Eden parted in the yard. When the boy entered the patio he saw Madden sitting alone, wrapped in an overcoat, before a dying fire.
The millionaire leaped to his feet. “Hello,” he said. “Well?”
“Well?” replied Eden. He had completely forgotten his mission to Barstow.
“You saw Draycott?” Madden whispered.
“Oh!” The boy remembered with a start. More deception—would it ever end? “Tomorrow at the door of the bank in Pasadena,” he said softly. “Noon sharp.”
“Good,” answered Madden. “I’ll be off before you’re up. Not turning in already?”
“I think I will,” responded Eden. “I’ve had a busy day.”
“Is that so?” said Madden carelessly, and strode into the living-room. Bob Eden stood staring after the big, broad shoulders, the huge frame of this powerful man. A man who seemed to have the world in his grasp, but who had killed because he was afraid.
XIV
The Third Man
As soon as he was fully awake the following morning, Bob Eden’s active brain returned to the problem with which it had been concerned when he dropped off to sleep. Madden had killed a man. Cool, confident, and self-possessed though he always seemed, the millionaire had lost his head for once. Ignoring the possible effect of such an act on his fame, his high position, he had with murderous intent pulled the trigger on the gun Bill Hart had given him. His plight must have been desperate indeed.
Whom had he killed? That was something yet to be discovered. Why had he done it? By his own confession, because he was afraid. Madden, whose very name struck terror to many, and into whose presence lesser men came with awe and trembling, had himself known the emotion of fear. Ridiculous, but “You were always afraid of him,” Thorn had said.
Some hidden door in the millionaire’s past must be found and opened. First of all, the identity of the man who had been killed last Wednesday night on this lonely ranch must be ascertained. Well, at least the mystery was beginning to clear, the long sequence of inexplicable, maddening events since they came to the desert was broken for a moment by a tangible bit of explanation. Here was a start, something into which they could get their teeth. From this they must push on to—what?
Chan was waiting in the patio when Bob Eden came out. His face was decorated with a broad grin.
“Breakfast reposes on the table,” he announced. “Consume it speedily. Before us stretches splendid day for investigation with no prying eyes.”
“What’s that?” asked Eden. “Nobody here? How about Gamble?”
Chan led the way to the living-room, and held Bob Eden’s chair. “Oh, cut that, Charlie,” the boy said. “You’re not Ah Kim today. Do you mean to say that Gamble has also left us?”
Chan nodded. “Gamble develops keen yearning to visit Pasadena,” he replied. “On which journey he is welcome as one of his long-tailed rats.”
Eden quaffed his orange juice. “Madden didn’t want him, eh?”
“Not much,” Chan answered. “I rise before day breaks and prepare breakfast, which are last night’s orders. Madden and Thorn arrive, brushing persistent sleep out of eyes. Suddenly enters this Professor Gamble, plentifully awake and singing happy praise for desert sunrise. ‘You are up early,’ says Madden, growling like a dissatisfied dog. ‘Decided to take little journey to Pasadena along with you,’ announces Gamble. Madden purples like distant hills when evening comes, but regards me and quenches his reply. When he and Thorn enter big car, behold Mr. Gamble climbing into rear seat. If looks could assassinate Madden would then and there have rendered him extinct, but such are not the case. Car rolls off on to sunny road with Professor Gamble smiling pleasantly in back. Welcome as long-tailed rat, but not going to worry about it, thank you.”
Eden chuckled. “Well, it’s a good thing from our standpoint, Charlie. I was wondering what we were going to do with Gamble nosing round. Big load off our shoulders right away.”
“Very true,” agreed Chan. “Alone here, we relax all over place and find what is to find. How you like oatmeal, boy? Not so lumpy, if I may be permitted the immodesty.”
“Charlie, the world lost a great chef when you became a policeman. But—the devil! Who’s that driving in?”
Chan went to the door. “No alarm necessary,” he remarked. “Only Mr. Holley.”
The editor appeared. “Here I am, up with the lark and ready for action,” he announced. “Want to be in on the big hunt, if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly don’t,” said Eden. “Glad to have you. We’ve had a bit of luck already.” He explained about Gamble’s departure.
Holley nodded wisely. “Of course Gamble went to Pasadena,” he remarked. “He’s not going to let Madden out of his sight. You know, I’ve had some flashes of inspiration about this matter out here.”
“Good for you,” replied Eden. “For instance—”
“Oh, just wait a while. I’ll dazzle you with them at the proper moment. You see, I used to do a lot of police reporting. Little Bright Eyes I was often called.”
“Pretty name,” laughed Eden.
“Little Bright Eyes is here to look about,” Holley continued. “First of all, we ought to decide what we’re looking for.”
“I guess we know that, don’t we?” Eden asked.
“Oh, in a general way, but let’s be explicit. To go back and start at the beginning—that’s the proper method, isn’t it, Chan?”
Charlie shrugged. “Always done—in books,” he said. “In real life, not so much so.”
Holley smiled. “That’s right—dampen my young enthusiasm.
