absolutely. And you can’t freeze her out any longer because she now knows more about your case than you do. As they say on the stage—won’t you—sit down?”
Puzzled and wondering, Chan and Will Holley found chairs. “I said this morning I wanted a little light,” Eden continued. “I’ve got it already—how’s that for service? Aimless trip to Barstow, Charlie, proved to be all aim. Miss Wendell and I turned aside for a canter over the desert, and we have met and interviewed that little black-bearded one—our desert rat.”
“Boy—now you’re talking,” cried Holley.
Chan’s eyes lighted.
“Chinese are psychic people, Charlie,” Eden went on. “I’ll tell the world. You were right. Before we arrived at Madden’s ranch, some one staged a little murder there. And I know who did it.”
“Thorn,” suggested Holley.
“Thorn nothing! No piker like Thorn. No, gentlemen, it was the big chief—Madden himself—the great P.J. Last Wednesday night at his ranch Madden killed a man. Add favorite pastimes of big millionaires.”
“Nonsense,” objected Holley
“You think so, eh? Listen.” Eden repeated the story Cherry had told.
Chan and Holley heard him out in amazed silence.
“And what are present whereabouts of old prospector?” inquired Chan when he had finished.
“I know, Charlie,” answered Eden. “That’s the flaw in my armor. I let him go. He’s on his way—over yonder. But I know where he’s going and we can get hold of him when we need him. We’ve got other matters to look after first.”
