"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 accommodations—"
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?
Chapter 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 more mild-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 toward 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 neighborhood 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 a bit. "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 quick to cookhouse," he said.
Eden smiled. "You're the one who wanted to watch and wait," he reminded the detective. "If you're threatened with housemaid's knee, don't blame me."
"This Gamble," mused Chan. "Seems harmless like May morning, I think."
"Oh, very. A Bible student. And it strikes me there's a fair opening for a good Bible student round here."
"Undangerous and mild," continued Chan. "Yet hidden in his scant luggage is one pretty new pistol completely loaded."
"Going to shoot the tails off the rats, most likely," Eden smiled. "Now, don't get suspicious of him, Charlie. He's probably just a tenderfoot who believes the movies and so came to this wild country armed to defend himself. By the way, Madden just got a telegram over the phone, and it was, judging by appearances, another bit of unwelcome news for our dear old friend. Holley's looking it up for me. If the telephone rings, go into the patio and be ready to tip me off in case any one is coming."
Silently Ah Kim resumed his work at the table. In a few moments, loud and clear, came the ring of Holley on the wire. Running to the telephone, Eden put his hand over the bell, muffling it. Chan stepped into the patio.
"Hello, Holley," said the boy softly. "Yes. Yes. O.K. Shoot. Um.... Say, that's interesting, isn't it? Coming tonight, eh? Thanks, old man."
He hung up, and Charlie returned. "A bit of news," said Eden, rising. "That telegram was from Miss Evelyn Madden. Got tired of waiting in Denver, I guess. The message was sent from Barstow. The lady arrives tonight at Eldorado on the six-forty. Looks as though I may have to give up my room and check out."
"Miss Evelyn Madden?" repeated Chan.
"That's right—you don't know, do you? She's Madden's only child. A proud beauty, too—I met her in San Francisco. Well, it's no wonder Madden was perplexed, is it?"
"Certainly not," agreed Chan. "Murderous ranch like this no place for refined young woman."
Eden sighed. "Just one more complication," he said. "Things move, but we don't seem to get anywhere."
"Once more," returned Chan, "I call to your attention that much unused virtue, patience. Aspect will be brighter here now. A woman's touch—"
"This woman's touch means frost-bite," smiled Eden. "Charlie, I'll bet you a million—not even the desert will thaw out Evelyn Madden."
Chan departed to his duties in the cookhouse. Madden and Thorn drifted in after a time; Gamble, it appeared, had retired to his room. The long hot afternoon dragged by, baking hours of deathly calm during which the desert lived up to its reputation. Madden disappeared and presently his "noisome" snores filled the air. A good idea, Bob Eden decided.
In a recumbent position on his bed, he found that time passed more swiftly. In fact, he didn't