office. Pretty much intact—but not quite. I ask Delaney.”
“It’s all there,” Delaney growled.
Chan shook his head. “I grieve to differ even with rascal like you are. But there was Eddie Boston—”
“Yes,” replied Delaney. “It’s true—I gave Boston five thousand dollars. He recognized me the other day in the yard. Go after him and get it back—the dirty crook!”
The sheriff laughed. “Speaking of crooks,” he said, “that sounds to me like your cue, boys. We’d better be getting along, Bliss. We can swear in a deputy or two in Eldorado. Mr. Madden, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Bob Eden went up to Delaney. “Well, Jerry,” he smiled, “I’m afraid this is good-bye. You’ve been my host down here, and my mother told me I must always say I’ve had a very nice time—”
“Oh, go to the devil,” said Delaney.
The sheriff and Bliss herded their captives out into the desert night, and Eden went over to Paula Wendell.
“Exit the Delaney quartet,” he remarked. “I guess my stalling days at the ranch are ended. I’m taking the ten-thirty train to Barstow, and—”
“Better call up for a taxi,” she suggested.
“Not while you and the roadster are on the job. If you’ll wait while I pack—I want a word with you anyhow. About Wilbur.”
“One happy thought runs through my mind,” Will Holley was saying. “I’m the author of a famous interview with you, Mr. Madden. One you never gave.”
“Really?” replied Madden. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll stand behind you.”
