The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 137: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ae a spread all over the newspapers. Looking ahead, he sees he may need friends among the reporters. So he's come down from his high horse at last. Am I right?” "Oh, it sounds logical,” agreed Eden. "I'm glad something does. You know, I told dad before I left San Francisco that I was keen to get mixed up in a murder mystery. But this—this is more than I bargained for. No dead body, no weapon, no motive, no murder. Nothing. Why, we can't even prove anybody has been killed." He stood up. "Well, I'd better be moving back to the ranch. The ranch and—what? Whither am I drifting?" "You stick to your Chinese pal," advised Holley. "The boy's good. Something tells me he'll see you through." "I hope so," Eden replied. "Keep your eyes open," added Holley. "And take no chances. If you need help out there, don't forget Will Holley.” "You bet I won't,” Bob Eden answered. "So long. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow." He went out and stood on the curb before the Desert Edge Hotel. It was Saturday evening, and Eldorado was crowded with ranchers, lean, bronzed, work-stained men in khaki riding breeches and gaudy lumber-jack blouses—simple men to whom this was the city. Through the window of the combined barber shop and pool room he saw a group of them shaking dice. Others leaned against the trunks of the cottonwoods, talking of 137 comiicboeoe S CO