be delivered in New York,” he reminded Madden.
“Well, what if they were? I can change my mind, can’t I?”
“Nevertheless, my father felt that the whole affair called for caution. One or two things happened—”
“What things?”
Eden paused. Why go over all that? It would sound silly, perhaps—in any case, was it wise to make a confidant of this cold, hard man who was glaring at him with such evident disgust? “It is enough to say, Mr. Madden, that my father refused to send that necklace down here into what might be a well-laid trap.”
“Your father’s a fool,” cried Madden.
Bob Eden rose, his face flushed. “Very well—if you want to call the deal off—”
“No, no. I’m sorry. I spoke too quickly. I apologize. Sit down.” The boy resumed his chair. “But I’m very much annoyed. So your father sent you here to reconnoiter?”
“He did. He felt something might have happened to you.”
“Nothing ever happens to me unless I want it to,” returned Madden, and the remark had the ring of truth. “Well you’re here now. You see everything’s all right. What do you propose to do?”
“I shall call my father on the telephone in the morning, and tell him to send the string at once. If I may, I’d like to stay here until it comes.”
Again Madden tossed his head. “Delay—delay—I don’t like it. I must hurry back east. I’d planned to leave here for Pasadena early in the morning, put the pearls
