instructions to send it to his father’s office, and in duplicate to his house. “How much?” he asked.
After some fumbling with a book, the agent named a sum, which Eden paid. He added a tip, upsetting the boy still further.
“Say, this is some day here,” announced the telegrapher. “Always wanted a little excitement in my life, but now it’s come I guess I ain’t ready for it. Yes, sir—I’ll send it twice—I know—I get you—”
Holley gave the boy a few directions about the Madden interview, and returned with Bob Eden to Main Street.
“Let’s drop over to the office,” the editor said. “Nobody there now, and I’m keen to know what’s doing out at Madden’s.”
In the bare little home of the Eldorado Times, Eden took a chair that was already partly filled with exchanges, close to the editor’s desk. Holley removed his hat and replaced it with an eye-shade. He dropped down beside his typewriter.
“My friend in New York grabbed at that story,” he said. “It was good of Madden to let me have it. I understand they’re going to allow me to sign it, too—the name of Will Holley back in the big papers again. But look here—I was surprised by what you hinted out at the ranch this morning. It seemed to me last night that everything was O.K. You didn’t say whether you had that necklace with you or not, but I gathered you had—”
