s getting a big bargain, and he must know it—if he stops to think—”
“Once P.J. Madden loses his temper,” said Thorn, “he doesn’t stop to think. I’m warning you, that’s all.”
“Mighty kind of you,” answered Eden carelessly. Thorn dropped his spade and basket by the cookhouse, from which came the pleasant odor of bacon on the stocks. Walking slowly, the secretary moved on toward the patio. Ah Kim emerged from his work-room, his cheeks flushed from close juxtaposition to a cook-stove.
“Hello, boss,” he said. “You takee look-see at sunrise thisee mawnin’?”
“Up pretty early, but not as early as that,” the boy replied. He saw the secretary vanish into the house. “Just been watching our dear friend Thorn bury some rubbish back of the barn,” he added. “Among other items, a can that lately contained arsenic.”
Chan dropped the role of Ah Kim. “Mr. Thorn plenty busy man,” he said. “Maybe he get more busy as time goes by. One wrong deed leads on to other wrong deeds, like unending chain. Chinese have saying that applies:’He who rides on tiger can not dismount.’”
Madden appeared in the patio, full of pep and power. “Hey, Eden,” he called. “Your father’s on the wire.”
“Dad’s up early,” remarked Eden, hurrying to join him.
“I called him,” said Madden. “I’ve had enough delay.”
Reaching the telephone, Bob Eden took up the receiver. “Hello, dad. I can talk freely this morning. I want to tell you everything’s all right down here. Mr. Madden? Yes—he’s fine—standing right beside me now. And he’s in a tearing hurry for that necklace.”
