There was a moment of tense silence. "Good lord," gasped Eden. "Madden? You mean to say that Madden -- Why, it's impossible. How did you know? Are you sure?"
"O' course I'm sure. I know Madden well enough. I seen him three years ago at the ranch. A big man, red-faced, thin gray hair -- I couldn't make no mistake about Madden. There he was standin', the gun in his hand, an' he looks toward the window. I ducks back. An' at that minute this Thorn you're speakin' of -- he comes tearin' into the room. 'What have you done now?' he says. 'I've killed him,' says Madden, 'that's what I've done.' 'You poor fool,' says Thorn. 'It wasn't necessary.' Madden throws down the gun. 'Why not?' he wants to know. 'I was afraid of him.' Thorn sneers. 'You was always afraid o' him,' he says. 'You dirty coward. That time in New York --' Madden gives him a look. 'Shut up,' he says 'Shut up an' fergit it. I was afraid o' him an' I killed him. Now git busy an' think what we better do.'"
The old prospector paused, and regarded his wide-eyed audience. "Well, mister," he continued. "An' miss -- I come away. What else was there to be done? It was no affair o' mine, an' I wasn't hungerin' fer no courtroom an' all that. Jest slip away into the night, I tells myself, the good old night that's been yer friend these many years. Slip away an' let others worry. I runs to the barn an' gits my pack, an' when I comes out, a car is drivin' into the yard. I crawls through the fence an' moseys down the road. I thought I was out o' it an' safe, an' how you got on to me is a mystery. But I'm decent, an' I ain't hidin' anything. That's my story -- the truth, s'help me."
Bob Eden rose and paced the sand. "Man alive," he said, "this is serious business."
"Think so?" inquired the old prospector.
"Think so! You know who Madden is, don't you? One of the biggest men in America --"
"Sure he is. And what does that mean? You'll never git him fer what he done. He'll slide out o' it some way -- Self-defense --"
"Oh, no, he won't. Not if you tell your story. You've got to go back with me to Eldorado --"
"Wait a minute," cut in Cherry. "That's something I don't aim to do -- go an' stifle in no city. Leastways, not till it's absolutely necessary. I've told my story, an' I'll tell it ag'in, any time I'm asked. But I ain't goin' back to Eldorado -- bank on that, boy."
"But listen --"
"Listen to me. How much more information you got? Know who that man was, layin' behind the bed? Found his body yet?"
"No, we haven't, but --"
"I thought so. Well, you're jest startin' on this job. What's my word ag'in' the word o' P.J. Madden -- an' no other evidence to show? You got to dig some up."
"Well, perhaps you're right."
"Sure I am. I've done you a favor -- now you do one fer me. Take this here information an' go back an' make the most o' it. Leave me out entirely if you kin. If you can't -- well, I'll keep in touch. Be down round Needles in about a week -- goin' to make a stop there with my old friend, Slim Jones. Porter J. Jones, Real Estate -- you kin git me there. I'm makin' you a fair proposition -- don't you say so, miss?"
The girl smiled at him. "Seems fair to me," she admitted.
"It's hardly according to Hoyle," said Eden. "But you have been mighty kind. I don't want to see you stifle in a city -- though I find it hard to believe you and I are talking about the same Eldorado. However, we're going to part friends, Mr. Cherry. I'll take your suggestion -- I'll go back with what you've told me -- it's certainly very enlightening. And I'll keep you out of it -- if I can."
The old man got painfully to his feet. "Shake," he said. "You're a white man, an' no mistake. I ain't tryin' to save Madden -- I'll go on the stand if I have to. But with what I've told you, maybe you can land him without me figurin' in it."
"We'll have to go along," Eden told him. He laughed. "I don't care what the book of etiquette says -- Mr. Cherry, I'm very pleased to have met you."
"Same here," returned Cherry. "Like a talk now an' then with a good listener. An' the chance to look at a pretty gal -- well, say, I don't need no specs to enjoy that."
They said good-bye, and left the lonely old man standing by the trolley-car there on the barren desert. For a long moment they rode in silence.
"Well," said Eden finally, "you've heard something, lady."
"I certainly have. Something I find it difficult to believe."
"Perhaps you won't find it so difficult if I go back and tell you a few things. You've been drawn into the big mystery at Madden's at last, and there's no reason why you shouldn't know as much as I do about it. So I'm going to talk."
"I'm keen to hear," she admitted.
"Naturally, after today. Well, I came down here to transact a bit of business with P.J. -- I needn't go into that, it has no particular bearing. The first night I was on the ranch --" He proceeded to detail one by one the mysterious sequence of events that began with the scream of the parrot from the dark. "Now you know. Some one had been killed, that was evident. Some one before Louie. But who? We don't know yet. And by whom? Today gave us that answer, anyhow."
"It seems incredible."
"You don't believe Cherry's story?" he suggested.
"Well -- these old boys who wander the desert get queer sometimes. And there was that about his eyes -- the doctor at Redlands, you know --"
"I know. But all the same, I think Cherry told the truth. After a few days with Madden, I consider him capable of anything. He's a hard man, and if any one stood in his way -- good night. Some poor devil stood there -- but not for long. Who? We'll find out. We must."
"We?"
"Yes -- you're in on this thing, too. Have to be, after this, whether you like it or not."
"I think I'm going to like it," Paula Wendell said.
They returned their tired horses to the stable at Seven Palms, and after a sketchy dinner at the local hotel, caught the Eldorado train. When they alighted, Charlie and Will Holley were waiting.
"Hello," said the editor. "Why, hello, Paula -- where you been? Eden, here's Ah Kim. Madden sent him in for you."
"Hello, gentlemen," cried Eden gaily. "Before Ah Kim and I head for the ranch, we're all going over to the office of that grand old sheet, the Eldorado Times. I have something to impart."
When they reached the newspaper office -- which Ah Kim entered with obvious reluctance -- Eden closed the door and faced them. "Well, folks," he announced, "the clouds are breaking. I've finally got hold of something definite. But before I go any further -- Miss Wendell, may I present Ah Kim? So we sometimes call him, after our quaint fashion. In reality, you are now enjoying the priceless opportunity of meeting Detective-Sergeant Charlie Chan, of the Honolulu police."
Chan bowed. "I'm so glad to know you, Sergeant," said the girl, and took up her favorite perch on Holley's typewriter table.
"Don't look at me like that, Charlie," laughed Eden. "You're breaking my heart. We can rely on Miss Wendell, absolutely. And you can't freeze her out any longer because she now knows more about your case than you do. As they say on the stage -- won't you -- sit down?"
Puzzled and wondering, Chan and Will Holley found chairs. "I said this morning I wanted a little light," Eden continued. "I've got it already -- how's that for service? Aimless trip to Barstow, Charlie, proved to be all aim. Miss Wendell and I turned aside for a canter over the desert, and we have met and interviewed that little black-bearded one -- our desert rat."
"Boy -- now you're talking," cried Holley.
Chan's eyes lighted.
"Chinese are psychic people, Charlie," Eden went on. "I'll tell the world. You were right. Before we arrived at Madden's ranch, some one staged a little murder there. And I know who did it."
"Thorn," suggested Holley.
"Thorn nothing! No piker like Thorn. No, gentlemen, it was the big chief -- Madden himself -- the great P.J. Last Wednesday night at his ranch Madden killed a man. Add favorite pastimes of big millionaires."
"Nonsense," objected Holley
"You think so, eh? Listen." Eden repeated the story Cherry had told.
Chan an
d Holley heard him out in amazed silence.
"And what are present whereabouts of old prospector?" inquired Chan when he had finished.
"I know, Charlie," answered Eden. "That's the flaw in my armor. I let him go. He's on his way -- over yonder. But I know where he's going and we can get hold of him when we need him. We've got other matters to look after first."
"We certainly have," agreed Holley. "Madden! I can hardly believe it."
Chan considered. "Most peculiar case ever shoved on my attention," he admitted. "It marches now, but look how it marches backwards. Mostly murder means dead body on the rug, and from clues surrounding, I must find who did it. Not so here. I sense something wrong, after long pause light breaks and I hear name of guilty man who killed. But who was killed? The reason, please? There is work to be done -- much work."
"You don't think," suggested Eden, "that we ought to call in the sheriff --"
"What then?" frowned Chan. "Captain Bliss arrives on extensive feet, committing blunder with every step. Sheriff faces strange situation, all unprepared. Madden awes them with greatness, and escapes Scotch-free. None of the sheriff, please -- unless maybe you lose faith in Detective-Sergeant Chan."
"Never for a minute, Charlie," Eden answered. "Wipe out that suggestion. The case is yours."
Chan bowed. "You're pretty good, thanks. Such a tipsy-turvy puzzle rouses professional pride. I will get to bottom of it or lose entire face. Be good enough to watch me."
"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.
CHAPTER 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 gone west 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 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 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. However, I am now going to recall a few facts. We needn't stress the side issues at present -- the pearls, the activities of Shaky Phil in San Francisco, the murder of Louie, the disappearance of Madden's daughter -- all these will be explained when we get the big answer. We are concerned today chiefly with the story of the old prospector."
"Who may have been lying, or mistaken," Eden suggested.
"Yes -- his tale seems unbelievable, I admit. Without any evidence to back it up, I wouldn't pay much attention to it. However, we have that evidence. Don't forget Tony's
impassioned remarks, and his subsequent taking off. More important still, there is Bill Hart's gun, with two empty chambers. Also the bullet hole in the wall. What more do you want?"
"Oh, it seems to be well substantiated," Eden agreed.
"It is. No doubt about it -- somebody was shot at this place Wednesday night. We thought at first Thorn was the killer, now we switch to Madden. Madden lured somebody to Thorn's room, or cornered him there, and killed him. Why? Because he was afraid of him? We think hard about Wednesday night -- and what do we want to know? We want to know -- who was the third man?"
"The third man?" Eden repeated.
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