“It would be most convenient if I could,” answered Gamble. “Of course, I should like to pay for my accommodations—”
Madden waved his hand. Ah Kim came in, headed for the luncheon table. “Another place, Ah Kim,” ordered Madden. “And show Mr. Gamble to the room in the left wing—the one next to Mr. Eden’s.”
“Very kind of you, I’m sure,” remarked Gamble suavely. “I shall try to make as little trouble as may be. Luncheon impends, I take it. Not unwelcome, either. This—er—this desert air, sir—er—I’ll return in a moment.”
He followed Ah Kim out. Madden glared after him, his face purple. Bob Eden realized that a new puzzle had arrived.
“The devil with him,” cried Madden. “But I had to be polite. That letter.” He shrugged. “Gad, I hope I get out of here soon.”
Bob Eden continued to wonder. Who was Mr. Gamble? What did he want at Madden’s ranch?
