The Greatest Works of Earl Derr Biggers (Illustrated Edition). Earl Derr Biggers

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СКАЧАТЬ a little likeness for him myself."

      Chan dug his elbow deep into Eden's side. They climbed between the dark hills and the lights of Eldorado shone before them. As they drove up to the hotel, Holley and Victor Jordan greeted them.

      "Here you are," said the editor. "Your bag is in the office, Charlie. The door's unlocked."

      "Many thanks," returned Chan, and fled.

      Holley looked up at the white stars. "Sorry you're going, Eden," he said. "It'll be a bit lonesome down here without you."

      "But you'll be in New York," suggested Eden.

      Holley shook his head and smiled. "Oh, no, I won't. I sent a telegram this evening. A few years ago, perhaps—but not now. I can't go now. Somehow, this desert country—well, it's got me, I guess. I'll have to take my New York in pictures from this on."

      Far off across the dreary waste of sand the whistle of the Barstow train broke the desert silence. Charlie came around the corner; the coat and vest of Sergeant Chan had replaced the Canton crepe blouse of Ah Kim.

      "Hoarse voice of railroad proclaims end of our adventure," he remarked. He took Paula Wendell's hand. "Accept last wish from somewhat weary postman. May this be for you beginning of life's greatest adventure. And happiest."

      They crossed the empty street. "Good-bye," Eden said, as he and the girl paused in the shadow of the station. Something in the warm clasp of her slender strong fingers told him all he wanted to know, and his heart beat faster. He drew her close.

      "I'm coming back soon," he promised. He transferred the emerald ring to her right hand. "Just by way of a reminder," he added. "When I return I'll bring a substitute—the glittering pick of the finest stock on the coast. Our stock."

      "Our stock?"

      "Yes." The branch-line train had clattered in, and Chan was calling to him from the car steps. "You don't know it yet, but for you the dream of every woman's life has come true. You're going to marry a man who owns a jewelry store."

       THE END

      Behind That Curtain

       Table of Contents

       Chapter I. The Man from Scotland Yard

       Chapter II. What Happened to Eve Durand?

       Chapter III. The Bungalow in the Sky

       Chapter IV. The Reckoning of Heaven

       Chapter V. The Voice in the Next Room

       Chapter VI. The Guest Detective

       Chapter VII. Muddy Water

       Chapter VIII. Willie Li's Good Turn

       Chapter IX. The Port of Missing Women

       Chapter X. The Letter from London

       Chapter XI. The Muddy Water Clears

       Chapter XII. A Misty Evening

       Chapter XIII. Old Friends Meet Again

       Chapter XIV. Dinner for Two

       Chapter XV. The Discreet Mr. Cuttle

       Chapter XVI. Long Life and Happiness

       Chapter XVII. The Woman from Peshawar

       Chapter XVIII. Flannery's Big Scene

       Chapter XIX. A Vigil in the Dark

       Chapter XX. The Truth Arrives

       Chapter XXI. What Happened to Eve Durand

       Chapter XXII. Hawaii Bound

      Chapter I. The Man From Scotland Yard

       Table of Contents

      BILL RANKIN sat motionless before his typewriter, grimly seeking a lead for the interview he was about to write. A black shadow shot past his elbow and materialized with a soft thud on his desk. Bill's heart leaped into his throat and choked him.

      But it was only Egbert, the office cat. Pretty lonesome round here, seemed to be Egbert's idea. How about a bit of play? Rankin glared at the cat with deep disgust. Absurd to be so upset by a mere Egbert, but when one has been talking with a great man for over an hour and the subject of the talk has been murder, one is apt to be a trifle jumpy.

      He reached out and pushed Egbert to the floor. "Go away," he said. "What do you mean, scaring me out of a year's growth? Can't you see I'm busy?"

      His dignity offended, Egbert stalked off through the desert of typewriter tables and empty chairs. Bill Rankin watched him disappear at last through the door leading into the hallway. The hour was five thirty; the street ten stories below was filled with homegoing throngs, but up here in the city room of the Globe a momentary quiet reigned. Alone of all the green-shaded lamps in the room, the one above Rankin's typewriter was alight, shedding a ghastly radiance on the blank sheet of paper in his machine. Even the copy desk was deserted. In his cubby-hole at the rear sat the Globe's city editor, the only other human thing in sight. And he was not, if you believed the young men who worked for him, so very human at that.

      Bill Rankin turned back to his interview. For a brief СКАЧАТЬ