“I’m waiting for Paula, too,” Eden said. “I’ll see you at the station.” Holley and Victor said their good-byes to Madden and his daughter, and departed. Bob Eden consulted his watch. “Well, the old home week crowd is thinning out. Just one thing more, Charlie. When Mr. Madden here came in tonight, you weren’t a bit surprised. Yet, recognizing Delaney, your first thought must have been that Madden had been killed.”
Chan laughed noiselessly. “I observe you have ignorance concerning detective customs. Surprised detective might as well put on iron collar and leap from dock. He is finished. Mr. Madden’s appearance staggering blow for me, but I am not letting rival policemen know it, thank you. It is apparent we keep Miss Wendell waiting. I have some property in cookhouse—just one moment.”
“The cookhouse,” cried P.J. Madden. “By the lord Harry, I’m hungry. I haven’t had anything but canned food for days.”
An apprehensive look flitted over Chan’s face. “Such a pity,” he said. “Present cook on ranch has resumed former profession. Miss Wendell, I am with you in five seconds.” He went hastily out.
Evelyn Madden put her arm about her father. “Cheer up, dad,” she advised. “I’ll drive you in town and we’ll stop at the hotel tonight. You must have a doctor look at your shoulder at once.” She turned to Bob Eden. “Of course, there’s a restaurant in Eldorado?”
“Of course,” smiled Eden. “It’s called the Oasis, but it isn’t. However, I can heartily recommend the steaks.”
P.J. Madden was on his feet, himself again. “All right, Evelyn. Call up the hotel and reserve a suite—five rooms—
