The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

————_— . = on again. Even though the desert has telephones, I am beyond reach there. Now, to my great regret, I must go.” Kee Lim followed him to the door. He stood there on the reed mat, stroking his thin beard and _ blinking. "Farewell, notable cousin. On that long journey of yours upon which you now set out—walk slowly." "Farewell," Charlie answered. "All my good wishes for happiness in the new year." Suddenly he found himself speaking English. "See you later," he called, and hurried down the stairs. Once in the street, however, he obeyed his cousin's parting injunction, and walked slowly indeed. A startling bit of news, this, from Rose, the telephone operator. Louie Wong was wanted in San Francisco— wanted by his relative Wong Ching, the bowl merchant. Why? An old Chinese on a corner directed him to Jackson Street, and he climbed its steep sidewalk until he reached the shop of Wong Ching. The brightly lighted window was filled with Swatow cups and bowls, a rather beautiful display, but evidently during this holiday season the place was not open for business, for the curtains on the door were drawn. Chan rattled the latch for a full minute, but no one came. He crossed the street, and took up a post in a dark doorway opposite. Sooner or later his summons would be answered. On a near-by balcony a Chinese orchestra was playing, the whanging flute, the shrill plink of the 48 comiicboeoe S CO