The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 382: what you’re looking at

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

a, "The cookhouse,” cried P.J. Madden. "By the lord Harry, I'm hungry. I haven't had anything but canned food for days.” An apprehensive look flitted over Chan's face. "Such a pity,” he said. "Present cook on ranch has resumed former profession. Miss Wendell, I am with you in five seconds.” He went hastily out. Evelyn Madden put her arm about her father. "Cheer up, dad," she advised. "I'll drive you in town and we'll stop at the hotel tonight. You must have a doctor look at your shoulder at once." She turned to Bob Eden. "Of course, there's a restaurant in Eldorado?" "Of course," smiled Eden. "It's called the Oasis, but it isn't. However, I can heartily recommend the steaks.” P.J. Madden was on his feet, himself again. "All right, Evelyn. Call up the hotel and reserve a suite—five rooms —no, make it a floor. Tell the proprietor I want supper served in my sitting-room—two porterhouse steaks, and everything else they've got. Tell him to have the best doctor in town there when I arrive. Help me find the telegraph blanks. Put in five long distance calls—no, that had better wait until we reach the hotel. Find out if there's anybody in Eldorado who can take dictation. Call up the leading real-estate man and put this place on the market. I never want to see it again. And oh, yes—don't let that Chinese detective get away without seeing me. I'm not through with him. Make a note to call a 3282 comiicboeoe S CO