Eden. Drawing with the faint hope of completing two pairs, the boy was thrilled to encounter four nines in his hand. Perhaps he should have noted that Maydorf was dealing, but he didn’t—he bet heavily, and was finally called. Laying down his hand, he saw an evil smile on Shaky Phil’s face.
“Four queens,” remarked Maydorf, spreading them out with an expert gesture. “Always was lucky with the ladies. I think you gentlemen pay me.”
They did. Bob Eden contributed forty-seven dollars, reluctantly. All on the expense account, however, he reflected.
Mr. Maydorf was in a not unaccountable good humor. “A very pleasant evening,” he remarked, as he put on his overcoat. “I’ll drop in again, if I may.”
“Good night,” snapped Madden.
Thorn took a flashlight from the desk. “I’ll see you to the gate,” he announced. Bob Eden smiled. A flashlight—with a bright moon overhead.
“Mighty good of you,” the outsider said. “Good night, gentlemen, and thank you very much.” He was smiling grimly as he followed the secretary out.
Madden snatched up a cigar, and savagely bit the end from it. “Well?” he cried.
“Well,” said Eden calmly.
“You made a lot of progress with your father, didn’t you?”
The boy smiled. “What did you expect me to do? Spill the whole thing in front of that bird?”
“No—but you needn’t have rung off so quick. I was going to get him out of the room. Now you can go over there and call your father again.”
