The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 282: what you’re looking at

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

a "Getting some new ideas?" he asked. "About our puzzle?" Chan shook his head. "No. At this moment I am far from Madden's ranch. I am in Honolulu where nights are soft and sweet, not like chilly desert dark. Must admit my heart is weighed a little with homesick qualms. I picture my humble house on Punchbowl Hill, where lanterns glow and my ten children are gathered round.” "Ten!" cried Eden. "Great Scott—you are a father." "Very proud one," assented Chan. "You are going from here?” "I'm running in town for a while. Miss Wendell called up —it seems the picture people have arrived. By the way, I just remembered—tomorrow is the day Madden promised they could come out here. I bet the old man's clean forgot it.” "Most likely. Better not to tell him, he might refuse permission. I have unlimited yearning to see movies in throes of being born. Should I go home and report that experience to my eldest daughter, who is all time sunk in Movie magazines, ancestor worship breaks out plenty strong at my house." Eden laughed. "Well then, let's hope you get the chance. I'll be back early.” A few minutes later he was again in the flivver, under the platinum stars. He thought fleetingly of Louie Wong, buried now in the bleak little graveyard back of 282 comiicboeoe S CO