He was taking a belated survey of Martin Thorn. A pale high forehead, pale green eyes that now and then popped disconcertingly, long, pale, grasping hands. Not the jolliest sort of playmate to have around, he reflected. “A private messenger,” he repeated firmly.

“Of course,” said Thorn. Madden had written the check and laid it on the jeweler’s desk. “I was thinking, Chief — just a suggestion,” Thorn went on. “If Miss Evelyn is to return and spend the balance of the winter in Pasadena, she will want to wear the necklace there. We’ll still be in that neighborhood six days from now, and it seems to me —”

“Who’s buying this necklace?” cut in Madden. “I’m not going to have the thing carried back and forth across the country. It’s too risky in these days when every other man is a crook.”

“But father,” said the girl. “it’s quite true that I’d like to wear it this winter —”

She stopped. P.J. Madden’s crimson face had gone purple, and he was tossing his great head. It was a quaint habit he had when opposed, the newspapers said. “The necklace will be delivered to me in New York,” he remarked to Eden, ignoring his daughter and Thorn. “I’ll be in the south for some time — got a place in Pasadena and a ranch on the desert, four miles from Eldorado. Haven’t been down there for quite a while, and unless you look in on these caretakers occasionally, they get slack. As soon as I’m back in New York I’ll wire you, and you can deliver the necklace at my office. You’ll have my check for the balance within thirty days.”

“That’s perfectly agreeable to me,” Eden said. “If you’ll wait just a moment I’ll have a bill of sale drawn, outlining the terms. Business is business — as you of all men understand.”

“Of course,” nodded Madden. The jeweler went out.

Evelyn Madden rose. “I’ll meet you downstairs, father. I want to look over their stock of jade.” She turned to Madame Jordan. “You know, one finds better jade in San Francisco than anywhere else.”

“Yes, indeed,” smiled the older woman. She rose and took the girl’s hands. “Such a lovely throat, my dear — I was saying just before you came — the Phillimore pearls need youth. Well, they’re to have it at last. I hope you will wear them through many happy years.”

“Why — why, thank you,” said the girl, and went.

Madden glanced at his secretary. “Wait for me in the car,” he ordered.