LITMIR.BIZ

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days at McGuire's."

      "That's true enough, I guess. By the way, did Jerry ever talk to you about the men he met at McGuire's? The swells. You know, we used to get some pretty big trade there."

      "No, he never talked about it much. Why?"

      "I was wondering whether he ever mentioned to you the name of P.J. Madden."

      She turned upon the boy a baby stare, wide-eyed and innocent. "Who's P.J. Madden?" she inquired.

      "Why, he's one of the biggest financiers in the country. If you ever read the papers—"

      "But I don't. My work takes so much time. You've no idea the long hours I put in—"

      "I can imagine it. But look here—the question is, where's Jerry now? I may say I'm worried about him."

      "Worried? Why?"

      "Oh—there's risk in Jerry's business, you know."

      "I don't know anything of the sort. Why should there be?"

      "We won't go into that. The fact remains that Jerry Delaney arrived at Barstow a week ago last Wednesday morning, and shortly afterward he disappeared off the face of the earth."

      A startled look came into the woman's eyes. "You don't think he's had an—an accident?"

      "I'm very much afraid he has. You know the sort Jerry was. Reckless—"

      The woman was silent for a moment. "I know," she nodded. "Such a temper. These red-headed Irishmen—"

      "Precisely," said Eden, a little too soon.

      The green eyes of Miss Norma Fitzgerald narrowed.

      "Knew Jerry at McGuire's, you say."

      She stood up. "And since when has he had red hair?" Her friendly manner was gone. "I was thinking only last night—I saw a cop at the corner of Sixth and Hill—such a handsome boy. You certainly got fine-looking fellows on your force out here."

      "What are you talking about?" demanded Eden.

      "Go peddle your papers," advised Miss Fitzgerald. "If Jerry Delaney's in trouble, I don't hold with it, but I'm not tipping anything off. A friend's a friend."

      "You've got me all wrong," protested Eden.

      "Oh, no, I haven't. I've got you all right—and you can find Jerry without any help from me. As a matter of fact, I haven't any idea where he is, and that's the truth. Now run along."

      Eden stood up. "Anyhow, I did enjoy your singing," he smiled.

      "Yeah. Such nice cops—and so gallant. Well, listen in any time—the radio's open to all."

      Bob Eden went glumly back to Pershing Square. He dropped down on the bench beside Chan.

      "Luck was poor," remarked the detective. "I see it in your face."

      "You don't know the half of it," returned the boy. He related what had happened. "I certainly made a bloomer of it," he finished. "She called me a cop, but she flattered me. The kindergarten class of rookies would disown me."

      "Stop the worry," advised Chan. "Woman a little too smart, that is all."

      "That's enough," Eden answered. "After this, you officiate. As a detective, I'm a great little jeweler."

      They dined at a hotel, and took the five-thirty train to Barstow. As they sped on through the gathering dusk, Bob Eden looked at his companion.

      "Well, it's over, Charlie," he said. "The day from which we hoped for so much. And what have we gained? Nothing. Am I right?"

      "Pretty close to right," admitted Chan.

      "I tell you, Charlie, we can't go on. Our position is hopeless. We'll have to go to the sheriff—"

      "With what? Pardon that I interrupt. But realize, please, that all our evidence is hazy, like flowers seen in a pool. Madden is big man, his word law to many." The train paused at a station. "We go to sheriff with queer talk—a dead parrot, tale of a desert rat, half-blind and maybe crazy, suitcase in attic filled with old clothes. Can we prove famous man guilty of murder on such foolish grounds? Where is body? Few policemen alive who would not laugh at us—"

      Chan broke off suddenly, and Eden followed his gaze. In the aisle of the car stood Captain Bliss of the Homicide Squad, staring at them.

      Eden's heart sank. The captain's little eyes slowly took in every detail of Chan's attire, then were turned for a moment on the boy. Without a sign, he turned about and went down the aisle and into the car behind.

      "Good night!" said Eden.

      Chan shrugged. "Fret no longer," he remarked. "We need not go to sheriff—sheriff will come to us. Our time is brief at Madden's ranch. Poor old Ah Kim may yet be arrested for the murder of Louie Wong."

      Chapter XIX. The Voice on the Air

       Table of Contents

      They arrived at Barstow at half past ten, and Bob Eden announced his intention of stopping for the night at the station hotel. After a brief talk with the man at the ticket-window, Chan rejoined him.

      "I take room that neighbors the one occupied by you," he said. "Next train for Eldorado leaves at five o'clock in morning. I am on her when she goes. Much better you await subsequent train at eleven-ten. Not so good if we return to ranch like Siamese twins. Soon enough that blundering Bliss will reveal our connection."

      "Suit yourself, Charlie," returned Eden. "If you've got the strength of character to get up and take a five o'clock train, you'll have my best wishes. And those wishes, I may add, will be extended in my sleep."

      Chan got his suitcase from the parcel-room and they went upstairs. But Eden did not at once prepare for bed. Instead he sat down, his head in his hands, and tried to think.

      The door between the two rooms opened suddenly, and Chan stood on the threshold. He held in his hand a luminous string of pearls.

      "Just to reassure," he smiled. "The Phillimore fortune is still safe."

      He laid the pearls on the table, under a brilliant light. Bob Eden reached over, and thoughtfully ran them through his fingers.

      "Lovely, aren't they?" he said. "Look here, Charlie—you and I must have a frank talk." Chan nodded. "Tell me, and tell me the truth—have you got the faintest glimmering as to what's doing out at Madden's ranch?"

      "One recent day," said Chan, "I thought—"

      "Yes?"

      "But I was wrong."

      "Precisely. I know it's a tough thing for a detective to admit, but you're absolutely stumped, aren't you?"

      "You have stumped feeling yourself, maybe—"

      "All right—I'll answer the question for you. You are. You're up against it, and we can't go on. Tomorrow afternoon I come back to the ranch. I'm supposed to have seen Draycott—more lies, more deception. I'm sick of it, and besides, something tells me it won't work any longer. No, Charlie—we're at the zero hour. We've got to give up the pearls."

      Chan's face saddened. "Please do not say so," he pleaded. "At any moment—"

      "I know—you want more time. Your professional pride is touched. I can understand, and I'm sorry."

      "Just a few hours," suggested Chan.

      Eden looked for a long moment at the kindly face of the Chinese. He shook his head. "It's not only me—it's Bliss. Bliss will come thumping in presently. We're at the end of our rope. I'll make one last concession—I'll give you until eight o'clock tomorrow night. That's provided Bliss doesn't show up in the interval. Do you agree?"

      "I must," said Chan.

      "Very good. You'll have all day tomorrow. When I come

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