“I haven’t,” cut in Eden.
“Oh—it’s still in San Francisco?”
“No. My confederate has it.”
“Your what?”
“Holley, I know that if Harry Fladgate says you’re all right, you are. So I’m going the whole way in the matter of trusting you.”
“That’s flattering—but suit yourself.”
“Something tells me we’ll need your help,” Eden remarked. With a glance round the deserted office, he explained the real identity of the servant, Ah Kim.
Holley grinned. “Well, that’s amusing, isn’t it? But go on. I get the impression that although you arrived at the ranch last night to find Madden there and everything, on the surface, serene, such was not the case. What happened?”
“First of all, Charlie thought something was wrong. He sensed it. You know the Chinese are a very psychic race.”
Holley laughed. “Is that so? Surely you didn’t fall for that guff. Oh, pardon me—I presume you had some better reason for delay?”
“I’ll admit it sounded like guff to me—at the start. I laughed at Chan and prepared to hand over the pearls at once. Suddenly out of the night came the weirdest cry for help I ever expect to hear.”
“What! Really? From whom?”
“From your friend, the Chinese parrot. From Tony.”
“Oh—of course,” said Holley. “I’d forgotten him. Well, that probably meant nothing.”
“But a parrot doesn’t invent,” Eden reminded him. “It merely repeats. I may have acted like a fool, but I
