"Thorn, however --"
"Oh, Thorn knew him all right. But he wasn't the least bit glad to see him. You know, Thorn's whole manner suggested to me that Shaky Phil has something on him."
"That might be possible," agreed Chan. "Especially come to think of my latest discovery."
"You've found something new, Charlie? What?"
"This evening, when Thorn haste to town in little car and I hear noisome snores of Madden who sleep on bed, I make explicit search in secretary's room."
"Yes -- go on -- quick. We might be interrupted."
"Under mountain of white shirts in Thorn's bureau reposes -- what? Missing forty-five we call Bill Hart's gun."
"Good work! Thorn -- the little rat --"
"Undubitably. Two chambers of that gun are quite unoccupied. Reflect on that."
"I'm reflecting. Two empty chambers."
"Humbly suggest you sleep now, gathering strength for what may be most excited tomorrow." The little detective paused at the door. "Two bullets gone who knows where," he said, in a low voice. "Answer is, we know where one went. Went crazy, landing in wall at spot now covered by desert picture."
"And the other?" said Bob Eden thoughtfully.
"Other hit mark, I think. What mark? We watch and wait, and maybe we discover. Good night, with plenty happy dreams."
CHAPTER IX
A Ride In The Dark
ON SUNDAY MORNING Bob Eden rose at what was, for him, an amazingly early hour. Various factors conspired to induce this strange phenomenon -- the desert sun, an extremely capable planet, filling his room with light, the roosters of P.J. Madden, loudly vocal in the dawn. At eight o'clock he was standing in the ranch house yard, ready for whatever the day might bring forth.
Whatever it brought, the day was superb. Now the desert was at its best, the chill of night still lingering in the magic air. He looked out over an opal sea, at changing colors of sand and cloud and mountaintop that shamed by their brilliance those glittering show-cases in the jewelry shop of Meek and Eden. Though it was the fashion of his age to pretend otherwise, he was not oblivious to beauty, and he set out for a stroll about the ranch with a feeling of awe in his heart.
Turning a rear corner of the barn, he came unexpectedly upon a jarring picture. Martin Thorn was busy beside a basket, digging a deep hole in the sand. In his dark clothes, with his pale face glistening from his unaccustomed exertion, he looked not unlike some prominent mortician.
"Hello," said Eden. "Who are you burying this fine morning?"
Thorn stopped. Beads of perspiration gleamed on his high white forehead.
"Somebody has to do it," he complained. "That new boy's too lazy. And if you let this refuse accumulate the place begins to look like a deserted picnic grounds."
He nodded toward the basket, filled with old tin cans.
"Wanted, private secretary to bury rubbish back of barn," smiled Eden. "A new sidelight on your profession, Thorn. Good idea to get them out of the way, at that," he added, leaning over and taking up a can. "Especially this one, which I perceive lately held arsenic."
"Arsenic?" repeated Thorn. He passed a dark coat sleeve across his brow. "Oh yes -- we use a lot of that. Rats, you know."
"Rats," remarked Eden, with an odd inflection, restoring the can to its place.
Thorn emptied the contents of the basket into the hole, and began to fill it in. Eden, playing well his role of innocent bystander, watched him idly.
"There -- that's better," said the secretary, smoothing the sand over the recent excavation. "You know -- I've always had a passion for neatness." He picked up the basket. "By the way," he added, "if you don't mind, I'd like to give you a little advice."
"Glad to have it," Eden replied, walking along beside him.
"I don't know how anxious you people are to sell that necklace. But I've been with the chief fifteen years, and I can tell you he's not the sort of man you can keep waiting with impunity. The first thing you know, young man, that deal for the pearls will be off."
"I'm doing my best," Eden told him. "Besides, Madden's getting a big bargain, and he must know it -- if he stops to think --"
"Once P.J. Madden loses his temper," said Thorn, "he doesn't stop to think. I'm warning you, that's all."
"Mighty kind of you," answered Eden carelessly. Thorn dropped his spade and basket by the cookhouse, from which came the pleasant odor of bacon on the stocks. Walking slowly, the secretary moved on toward the patio. Ah Kim emerged from his work-room, his cheeks flushed from close juxtaposition to a cook-stove.
"Hello, boss," he said. "You takee look-see at sunrise thisee mawnin'?"
"Up pretty early, but not as early as that," the boy replied. He saw the secretary vanish into the house. "Just been watching our dear friend Thorn bury some rubbish back of the barn," he added. "Among other items, a can that lately contained arsenic."
Chan dropped the role of Ah Kim. "Mr. Thorn plenty busy man," he said. "Maybe he get more busy as time goes by. One wrong deed leads on to other wrong deeds, like unending chain. Chinese have saying that applies: 'He who rides on tiger can not dismount.'"
Madden appeared in the patio, full of pep and power. "Hey, Eden," he called. "Your father's on the wire."
"Dad's up early," remarked Eden, hurrying to join him.
"I called him," said Madden. "I've had enough delay."
Reaching the telephone, Bob Eden took up the receiver. "Hello, dad. I can talk freely this morning. I want to tell you everything's all right down here. Mr. Madden? Yes -- he's fine -- standing right beside me now. And he's in a tearing hurry for that necklace."
"Very well -- we'll get it to him at once," the elder Eden said. Bob Eden sighed with relief. His telegram had arrived.
"Ask him to get it off today," Madden commanded.
"Mr. Madden wants to know if it can start today," the boy said.
"Impossible," replied the jeweler. "I haven't got it."
"Not today," Bob Eden said to Madden. "He hasn't got --"
"I heard him," roared Madden. "Here -- give me that phone. Look here, Eden -- what do you mean you haven't got it?"
Bob Eden could hear his father's replies. "Ah -- Mr. Madden -- how are you? The pearls were in a quite disreputable condition -- I couldn't possibly let them go as they were. So I'm having them cleaned -- they're with another firm --"
"Just a minute, Eden," bellowed the millionaire. "I want to ask you something -- can you understand the English language, or can't you? Keep still -- I'll talk. I told you I wanted the pearls now -- at once -- pronto -- what the devil language do you speak? I don't give a hang about having them cleaned. Good lord, I thought you understood."
"So sorry," responded Bob Eden's gentle father. "I'll get them in the morning, and they'll start tomorrow night."
"Yeah -- that means Tuesday evening at the ranch. Eden, you make me sick. I've a good mind to call the whole thing off --" Madden paused, and Bob Eden held his breath. "However, if you promise the pearls will start tomorrow sure --"
"I give you my word," said the jeweler. "They will start tomorrow at the very latest."
"All right. I'll have to wait, I suppose. But this is the last time I deal with you, my friend. I'll be on the lookout for your man on Tuesday. Good-bye."
In a towering rage, Madden hung up. His ill-humor continued through breakfast, and Eden's gay attempts at conversation fell on barren ground. After the meal was finished, Thorn took the little car and disappeared down the road. Bob Eden loafed expectantly about the front yard.
Much sooner than he had dared to hope, his vigil was ended. Paula Wendell, fresh and lovely as the California morning, drove up in her smart roadster and waited outside the barbed-wire fence.
"Hello," she said. "Jump in. You act as though you were glad to see me."
"Glad! Lady, you're a life-saver. Relations are sort of strained this morning at the old homestead. You'll find it hard to believe, but P.J. Madden doesn't love me."
She stepped on the gas. "The ma
n's mad," she laughed.
"I'll say he's mad. Ever eat breakfast with a rattlesnake that's had bad news?"
"Not yet. The company at the Oasis is mixed, but not so mixed as that. Well, what do you think of the view this morning? Ever see such coloring before?"
"Never. And it's not out of a drug store, either."
"I'm talking about the desert. Look at those snowcapped peaks."
"Lovely. But if you don't mind, I prefer to look closer. No doubt he's told you you're beautiful."
"Who?"
"Wilbur, your fiance."
"His name is Jack. Don't jump on a good man when he's down."
"Of course he's a good man, or you wouldn't have picked him." They plowed along the sandy road. "But even so -- look here, lady. Listen to a man of the world. Marriage is the last resort of feeble minds."
"Think so?"
"I know it. Oh, I've given the matter some thought. I've had to. There's my own case. Now and then I've met a girl whose eyes said, 'Well, I might.' But I've been cautious. Hold fast, my lad -- that's my motto."
"And you've held fast?"
"You bet. Glad of it, too. I'm free. I'm having a swell time. When evening comes, and the air's full of zip and zowie, and the lights flicker round Union Square, I just reach for my hat. And who says, in a gentle patient voice, 'Where are you going, my dear? I'll go with you.'"
"Nobody."
"Not a living soul. It's grand. And you -- your case is just like mine. Of course there are millions of girls who have nothing better to do than marriage. All right for them. But you -- why -- you've got a wonderful job. The desert, the hills, the canyons -- and you're willing to give all that up for a gas-range in the rear room of an apartment."
"Perhaps we can afford a maid."
"Lots of people can -- but where to get one nowadays? I'm warning you -- think it over well. You're having a great time now -- that will end with marriage. Mending Wilbur's socks --"
"I tell you his name is Jack."
"What of it? He'll be just as hard on the socks. I hate to think of a girl like you, tied down somewhere --"
"There's a lot in what you say," Paula Wendell admitted.
"I've only scratched the surface," Eden assured her.
The girl steered her car off the road through an open gate. Eden saw a huge, rambling ranch house surrounded by a group of tiny cottages. "Here we are at Doctor Whitcomb's," remarked Paula Wendell. "Wonderful person, the doctor. I want you two to meet."
She led the way through a screen door into a large living-room, not so beautifully furnished as Madden's, but bespeaking even greater comfort. A gray-haired woman was rocking contentedly near a window. Her face was kindly, her eyes calm and comforting. "Hello, Doctor," said the girl. "I've brought some one to call on you."
The woman rose, and her smile seemed to fill the room. "Hello, young man," she said, and took Bob Eden's hand.
"You -- you're the doctor," he stammered.
"Sure am," the woman replied. "But you don't need me. You're all right."
"So are you," he answered. "I can see that."
"Fifty-five years old," returned the doctor, "but I can still get a kick out of that kind of talk from a nice young man. Sit down. The place is yours. Where are you staying?"
"I'm down the road, at Madden's."
"Oh yes -- I heard he was here. Not much of a neighbor, this P.J. Madden. I've called on him occasionally, but he's never come to see me. Stand-offish -- and that sort of thing doesn't go on the desert. We're all friends here."
"You've been a friend to a good many," said Paula Wendell.
"Why not?" shrugged Doctor Whitcomb. "What's life for, if not to help one another? I've done my best -- I only wish it had been more."
Bob Eden felt suddenly humble in this woman's presence.
"Come on -- I'll show you round my place," invited the doctor. "I've made the desert bloom -- put that on my tombstone. You should have seen this neighborhood when I came. Just a rifle and a cat -- that's all I had at first. And the cat wouldn't stay. My first house here I built with my own hands. Five miles to Eldorado -- I walked in and back every day. Mr. Ford hadn't been heard of then."
She led the way into the yard, in and out among the little cottages. Tired faces brightened at her approach, weary eyes gleamed with sudden hope.
"They've come to her from all over the country," Paula Wendell said. "Broken-hearted, sick, discouraged. And she's given them new life --"
"Nonsense," cried the doctor. "I've just been friendly. It's a pretty hard world. Being friendly -- that works wonders."
In the doorway of one of the cottages they came upon Martin Thorn, deep in conversation with Shaky Phil Maydorf. Even Maydorf mellowed during a few words with the doctor.
Finally, when they reluctantly left, Doctor Whitcomb followed them to the gate. "Come often," she said. "You will, won't you?"
"I hope to," answered Bob Eden. He held her great rough hand a moment. "You know -- I'm beginning to sense the beauty of the desert," he added.
The doctor smiled. "The desert is old and weary and wise," she said. "There's beauty in that, if you can see it. Not everybody can. The latch-string's always out at Doctor Whitcomb's. Remember, boy."
Paula Wendell swung the car about, and in silence they headed home.
"I feel as though I'd been out to old Aunt Mary's," said Eden presently. "I sort of expected her to give me a cookie when I left."
"She's a wonderful woman," said the girl softly. "I ought to know. It was the light in her window I saw my first night on the desert. And the light in her eyes -- I shall never forget. All the great people are not in the cities."
They rode on. About them the desert blazed stark and empty in the midday heat; a thin haze cloaked the distant dunes and the far-away slopes of the hills. Bob Eden's mind returned to the strange problems that confronted him. "You've never asked me why I'm here," he remarked.
"I know," the girl answered. "I felt that pretty soon you'd realize we're all friends on the desert -- and tell me."
"I want to -- some day. Just at present -- well, I can't. But going back to that night you first visited Madden's ranch -- you felt that something was wrong there?"
"I did."
"Well, I can tell you this much -- you were probably right." She glanced at him quickly. "And it's my job to find out if you were. That old prospector -- I'd give a good deal to meet him. Isn't there a chance that you may run across him again?"
"Just a chance," she replied.
"Well, if you do, would you mind getting in touch with me at once. If it's not asking too much --"
"Not at all," she told him. "I'll be glad to. Of course, the old man may be clear over in Arizona by now. When I last saw him he was moving fast!"
"All the more reason for wanting to find him," Eden said. "I -- I wish I could explain. It isn't that I don't trust you, you know. But -- it's not altogether my secret."
She nodded. "I understand. I don't want to know."
"You grow more wonderful every minute," he told her.
The minutes passed. After a time the car halted before Madden's ranch, and Bob Eden alighted. He stood looking into the girl's eyes -- somehow they were like the eyes of Doctor Whitcomb -- restful and comforting and kind. He smiled.
"You know," he said, "I may as well confess it -- I've been sort of disliking Wilbur. And now it comes to me suddenly -- if I really mean all that about loving my freedom -- then Wilbur has done me the greatest service possible. I ought not to dislike him any more. I ought to thank him from the bottom of my heart."
"What in the world are you talking about?"
"Don't you understand? I've just realized that I'm up against the big temptation of my life. But I don't have to fight it. Wilbur has saved me. Good old Wilbur. Give him my love when next you write."
She threw her car into gear. "Don't you worry," she advised. "Even if there hadn't been a Wilbur, your freedom wouldn't have been in the slightest danger. I would have seen to that.
"
"Somehow, I don't care for that remark," Eden said. "It ought to reassure me, but as a matter of fact, I don't like it at all. Well, I owe you for another buggy ride. Sorry to see you go -- it looks like a dull Sunday out here. Would you mind if I drifted into town this afternoon?"
"I probably wouldn't even know it," said the girl. "Good-bye."
Bob Eden's prediction about Sunday proved true -- it was long and dull. At four in the afternoon he could stand it no longer. The blazing heat was dying, a restless wind had risen, and with the permission of Madden, who was still ill-humored and evidently restless too, he took the little car and sped toward the excitement of Eldorado.
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