XVII. In Madden’s Footsteps
An hour later Bob Eden answered a ring on the telephone. Happily the living room was deserted. Paula Wendell was on the wire.
“What luck?” asked the boy in a low voice.
“Not so good,” she answered. “Eddie was in a terrific rush when we got back to town. He packed his things, paid his bill, and was running out of the hotel when I caught him.’Listen, Eddie—I want to ask you—’I began, but that was as far as I got. He pointed to the station.’Can’t talk now, Paula,’he said.’Catching the Los Angeles train.’And managed to swing aboard it just as it was pulling out.”
Eden was silent for a moment “That’s odd. He’d naturally have gone back with the company, wouldn’t he? By automobile?”
“Of course. He came that way. Well, I’m awfully sorry, Chief. I’ve fallen down on the job. I guess there’s nothing for me to do but turn in my shield and nightstick—”
“Nothing of the sort. You did your best.”
“But it wasn’t good enough. I’m sorry. I’m forced to start for Hollywood in my car in about an hour. Shall you be here when I come back?”
