“It certainly did,” Eden agreed. “You’re a brick to do all this for the Jordans—and for dad. I hope they pay you handsomely.”
Chan shook his head. “What you say in car riding to ferry? Postman on holiday itches to try long stretch of road. All this sincere pleasure for me. When I untie knots and find answer that will be fine reward.” He bowed and departed.
Some hours later, while they waited for lunch, Bob Eden and Madden sat talking in the big living-room. The millionaire was reiterating his desire to return east at the earliest possible moment. He was sitting facing the door. Suddenly on his big red face appeared a look of displeasure so intense it startled the boy. Turning about, Eden saw standing in the doorway the slight figure of a man, a stooped, studious-looking man who carried a suitcase in one hand. The little naturalist of the Oasis Cafe.
“Mr. Madden?” inquired the newcomer.
“I’m Madden,” said the millionaire. “What is it?”
“Ah, yes.” The stranger came into the room, and set down his bag. “My name, sir, is Gamble, Thaddeus Gamble, and I am keenly interested in certain fauna surrounding your desert home. I have here a letter from an old friend of yours, the president of a college that has received many benefactions at your hands. If you will be so kind as to look it over—”
He offered the letter and Madden took it, glaring at him in a most unfriendly manner. When the millionaire had read the brief epistle, he tore it into bits and, rising, tossed them into the fireplace.
“You want to stop here a few days?” he said.
