7. THE POSTMAN SETS OUT
The three men and the girl returned to the living-room, but Madden’s flow of small talk was stilled, and the sparkle was gone from his luncheon party.
“Poor Tony,” the millionaire said when they had sat down. “It’s like the passing of an old friend. Five years ago he came to me.” He was silent for a long time, staring into space.
Presently the girl rose. “I really must be getting back to town,” she announced. “It was thoughtful of you to invite me to lunch, Mr. Madden, and I appreciate it. I can count on Thursday, then?”
“Yes—if nothing new comes up. In that case, where could I reach you?”
“I’ll be at the Desert Edge—but nothing must come up. I’m relying on the word of P.J. Madden.”
“Nothing will, I’m sure. Sorry you have to go.”
Bob Eden came forward. “I thi
