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

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СКАЧАТЬ take a dollar's worth," remarked Eden.

      "I appeal to the young lady," continued the real-estate man. "If that ring on the third finger of her left hand means anything, it means a wedding." Startled, Bob Eden looked, and saw a big emerald set in platinum. "You, miss—you have vision. Suppose you two bought a lot today and held it for your—er—for future generations. Wealth, wealth untold—I'm right, ain't I, miss?"

      The girl looked away. "Perhaps you are," she admitted. "But you've made a mistake. This gentleman is not my fiance."

      "Oh," said the youth, deflating.

      "I'm only a stranger, passing through," Eden told him.

      The salesman pulled himself together for a new attack. "That's it—you're a stranger. You don't understand. You can't realize that Los Angeles looked like this once."

      "It still does—to some people," suggested Bob Eden gently.

      The young man gave him a hard look. "Oh—I get you," he said. "You're from San Francisco." He turned to the girl. "So this ain't your fiance, eh, lady? Well—hearty congratulations."

      Eden laughed. "Sorry," he said.

      "I'm sorry, too," returned the salesman. "Sorry for you, when I think of what you're passing up. However, you may see the light yet, and if you ever do, don't forget me. I'm here Saturdays and Sundays, and we have an office in Eldorado. Opportunity's knocking, but of course if you're from Frisco, you're doing the same. Glad to have met you, anyhow."

      They left him by his weak little fountain, a sad but hopeful figure.

      "Poor fellow," the girl remarked, as she stepped on the gas. "The pioneer has a hard time of it."

      Eden did not speak for a moment. "I'm an observing little chap, aren't I?" he said at last.

      "What do you mean?"

      "That ring. I never noticed it. Engaged, I suppose?"

      "It looks that way, doesn't it?"

      "Don't tell me you're going to marry some movie actor who carries a vanity case."

      "You should know me better than that."

      "I do, of course. But describe this lucky lad. What's he like?"

      "He likes me."

      "Naturally." Eden lapsed into silence.

      "Not angry, are you?" asked the girl.

      "Not angry," he grinned, "but terribly, terribly hurt. I perceive you don't want to talk about the matter."

      "Well—some incidents in my life I really should keep to myself. On such short acquaintance."

      "As you wish," agreed Eden. The car sped on. "Lady," he said presently, "I've known this desert country, man and boy, going on twenty-four hours. And believe me when I tell you, miss, it's a cruel land—a cruel land."

      They climbed the road that lay between the two piles of brown rock pretending to be mountains, and before them lay Eldorado, huddled about the little red station. The town looked tiny and helpless and forlorn. As they alighted before the Desert Edge Hotel, Eden said:

      "When shall I see you again?"

      "Thursday, perhaps."

      "Nonsense. I shall probably be gone by then; I must see you soon."

      "I'll be out your way in the morning. If you like, I'll pick you up."

      "That's kind of you—but morning's a long way off," he said. "I'll think of you tonight, eating at the Oasis. Give my love to that steak, if you see it. Until tomorrow, then—and can't I buy you an alarm clock?"

      "I shan't oversleep—much," she laughed. "Good-bye."

      "Good-bye," answered Eden. "Thanks for the buggy ride."

      He crossed the street to the railroad station, which was also the telegraph office. In the little cubby-hole occupied by the agent, Will Holley stood, a sheaf of copy paper in his hand.

      "Hello," he said. "Just getting that interview on the wire. Were you looking for me?"

      "Yes, I was," Eden replied. "But first I want to send a wire of my own."

      The agent, a husky youth with sandy hair, looked up. "Say, Mister, no can do. Mr. Holley here's tied up things forever."

      Holley laughed. "That's all right. You can cut in with Mr. Eden's message, and then go back."

      Frowning, Eden considered the wording of his rather difficult telegram. How to let his father know the situation without revealing it to the world? Finally he wrote:

      BUYER HERE, BUT CERTAIN CONDITIONS MAKE IT ADVISABLE WE TREAT HIM TO A LITTLE HOO MALIMALI. MRS. JORDAN WILL TRANSLATE. WHEN I TALK WITH YOU OVER TELEPHONE PROMISE TO SEND VALUABLE PACKAGE AT ONCE THEN FORGET IT. ANY CONFIDENTIAL MESSAGE FOR ME CARE WILL HOLLEY, ELDORADO TIMES. THEY HAVE NICE DESERT DOWN HERE BUT TOO FULL OF MYSTERY FOR FRANK AND OPEN YOUNG BUSINESS MAN LIKE YOUR LOVING SON. BOB.

      He turned the yellow slip over to the worried telegrapher, with instructions to send it to his father's office, and in duplicate to his house. "How much?" he asked.

      After some fumbling with a book, the agent named a sum, which Eden paid. He added a tip, upsetting the boy still further.

      "Say, this is some day here," announced the telegrapher. "Always wanted a little excitement in my life, but now it's come I guess I ain't ready for it. Yes, sir—I'll send it twice—I know—I get you—"

      Holley gave the boy a few directions about the Madden interview, and returned with Bob Eden to Main Street.

      "Let's drop over to the office," the editor said. "Nobody there now, and I'm keen to know what's doing out at Madden's."

      In the bare little home of the Eldorado Times, Eden took a chair that was already partly filled with exchanges, close to the editor's desk. Holley removed his hat and replaced it with an eye-shade. He dropped down beside his typewriter.

      "My friend in New York grabbed at that story," he said. "It was good of Madden to let me have it. I understand they're going to allow me to sign it, too—the name of Will Holley back in the big papers again. But look here—I was surprised by what you hinted out at the ranch this morning. It seemed to me last night that everything was O.K. You didn't say whether you had that necklace with you or not, but I gathered you had—"

      "I haven't," cut in Eden.

      "Oh—it's still in San Francisco?"

      "No. My confederate has it."

      "Your what?"

      "Holley, I know that if Harry Fladgate says you're all right, you are. So I'm going the whole way in the matter of trusting you."

      "That's flattering—but suit yourself."

      "Something tells me we'll need your help," Eden remarked. With a СКАЧАТЬ