“Oh—this one. This isn’t Wong. Louie was called suddenly to San Francisco the other day. This Ah Kim just happened to drift in most opportunely yesterday. He’s merely a stop-gap until Louie comes back.”
“You’re lucky,” Eden remarked. “Such good cooks as Ah Kim are rare.”
“Oh, he’ll do,” Madden admitted. “When I come west to stay, I bring a staff with me. This is a rather unexpected visit.”
“Your real headquarters out here are in Pasadena, I believe?” Eden inquired.
“Yes—I’ve got a house there, on Orange Grove Avenue. I just keep this place for an occasional week end—when my asthma threatens. And it’s good to get away from the mob, now and then.” The millionaire pushed back from the table, and looked at his watch. “Ought to hear from San Francisco any minute now,” he added hopefully.
Eden glanced toward the telephone in a far corner. “Did you put the call in for my father, or just for the office?” he asked.
“Just for the office,” Madden replied. “I figured that if he was out, we could leave a message.”
Thorn came forward. “Chief, how about that interview for Holley?” he inquired.
“Oh, the devil!” Madden said. “Why did I let myself in for that?”
“I could bring the typewriter in here,” began the secretary.
“No—we’ll go to your room. Mr. Eden, if the telephone rings, please answer it.”
The two went out. Ah Kim arrived on noiseless feet to
