t you?”
Madden snorted. “You give me a pain,” he said. “Any one would think you were bringing me the Bank of England. Of course, Thorn’s all right. He’s been with me for fifteen years.”
“I just wanted to be sure,” Eden answered. “I’ll get hold of dad early in the morning. Good night.”
He returned to the patio. The secretary was hurrying in from his unwelcome errand. “Good night, Mr. Thorn,” Eden said.
“Oh—er—good night, Mr. Eden,” answered the man. He passed furtively from sight.
Back in his room, Eden began to undress. He was both puzzled and disturbed. Was this adventure to be as tame as it looked? Still in his ears rang the unearthly scream of the parrot. After all, had it been in a barroom that Tony picked up that hideous cry for help?
