I ought to go to Pasadena and look up Draycott. It seems that for some strange reason they didn’t meet yesterday.”
Chan smiled. “Did he display peevish feeling as result?”
“No, oddly enough, he didn’t. I don’t think he wanted to meet Draycott, with the professor tagging along. Paula Wendell’s going over that way shortly in her car. If I hurry, I may be able to ride with her.”
“Which, to my thinking, would be joyful traveling,” agreed Chan. “Hasten along. We have more talk when I act part of taxi-driver and carry you to Eldorado.”
Bob Eden went at once to Madden’s bedroom. The door was open and he saw the huge figure of the millionaire stretched on the bed, his snores shattering the calm afternoon. He hammered loudly on the panel of the door.
Madden leaped from the bed with startling suddenness, his eyes instantly wide and staring. He seemed like one expecting trouble. For a moment, Eden pitied the great man. Beyond all question Madden was caught in some inexplicable net; he was harassed and worn, but fighting still. Not a happy figure, for all his millions.
“I’m awfully sorry to disturb you, sir,” Eden said. “But the fact is I have a chance to ride over to Pasadena with some of the movie people, and I think I’d better go. Draycott hasn’t called, and—”
“Hush,” said Madden sharply. He closed the door. “The matter of Draycott is between you and me. I suppose you wonder what it’s all about, but I can’t tell you—except to say that this fellow Gamble doesn’t strike me as being what he pretends. And—”
