She had already opened the volume, and began to glance along the pages. She made a motion for me to wait. I leaned back in my chair, and it was only a few moments later that she looked up to say, "Don't make the arrest, Mr. Boyne. You have nothing here against Eddie--for murder." Because I doubted myself, I began to scold, winding up, "All the same, if that gink hasn't jumped town, I'll arrest him." "It would be a good deal more logical to arrest him if he had jumped the town," Barbara reminded me. "If you really want to see him, Mr. Boyne, you'll find him at the garage around on the highway. He's working for Bill." That was a set-back. A fleeing Eddie Hughes might have been hopeful; an Eddie Hughes who gave his employer back-talk, got himself fired, and then settled down within hand-reach, was not so good a bet. Barbara saw how it hit me, and offered a suggestion. "Mr. Boyne, Worth and I are taking a hike out to San Leandro canyon this afternoon to get ferns for the decorating committee. Suppose you come along--anyhow, a part of the way--and have a quiet talk, all alone with us. Don't do anything until you have consulted Worth." "All right--I'll go you," I assented, and half past two saw the three of us, Worth in corduroys and puttees, Barbara with high boots and short, dust-brown skirt, tramping out past the homes of people toward the open country. At the Vandeman place Skeet's truck was out in front, piled with folding chairs, frames, light lumber, and a lot of decorative stuff. The tall Chinaman came from the house with another load. "You Barbie Wallace!" the flapper howled. "Aren't you ashamed to be walking off with Worth and Mr. Boyne both, and good men scarce as hen's teeth in Santa Ysobel to-day!" "I'm not walking off with them--they're walking off with me," Barbara laughed at her. "Shameless one!" Skeet drawled. "I see you let Mr. Cummings have a day off--aren't you the kind little boss to 'em!" I just raised my brows at Barbara, and she explained a bit hastily, "Skeet thinks she has to be silly over the fact that Mr. Cummings has gone up to town, I suppose." She added with fine indifference, "He'll be back in the morning." "You bet he'll be back in the morning," Worth assured the world. "Now what does he mean by that, Mr. Boyne?" "He means Cummings is out after him." "I don't," Worth contradicted me personally. "I mean he's after Bobs. She knows it. Look at her." She glanced up at me from under her hat-brim, all the stars out in those shadowy pools that were her eyes. The walk had brought sumptuous color to her cheeks, where the two extra deep dimples began to show. "You both may think," she began with a sobriety that belied the dimples and shining eyes, "looking on from the outside, that Mr. Cummings has an idea of, as Skeet would say, 'rushing' me; but when we're alone together, about all he talks of is Worth."