“Hello,” Eden said. “Madden’s in there with Thorn, getting out the interview. Sit down.” He came close. “And please remember that I haven’t brought those pearls. My business with Madden is still unfinished.”
Holley looked at him with sudden interest. “I get you. But I thought last night that everything was lovely. Do you mean—”
“Tell you later,” interrupted Eden. “I may be in town this afternoon.” He spoke in a louder tone. “I’m glad you came along. I was finding the desert a bit flat when you flivvered in.”
Holley smiled. “Cheer up. I’ve got something for you. A veritable storehouse of wit and wisdom.” He handed over a paper. “This week’s issue of the Eldorado Times, damp from the presses. Read about Louie Wong’s big trip to San Francisco. All the news to fit the print.”
Eden took the proffered paper—eight small pages of mingled news and advertisements. He sank into a chair. “Well,” he said, “it seems that the Ladies’Aid Supper last Tuesday night was notably successful. Not only that, but the ladies responsible for the affair labored assiduously and deserve much credit.”
“Yes, but the real excitement’s inside,” remarked Holley. “On page three. There you’ll learn that coyotes are getting pretty bad in the valley. A number of people are putting out traps.”
“Under those circumstances,” Eden said, “how fortunate that Henry Gratton is caring for Mr. Dickey’s chickens during the latter’s absence in Los Angeles.”
Holley rose, and stared for a moment down at his tiny newspaper. “And once I worked with Mitchell on the New York Sun,” he misquoted sadly. “Don’t let Harry
