The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 328: what you’re looking at

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

———— . = on "Luck was poor,” remarked the detective. "I see it in " your face. "You don't know the half of it," returned the boy. He related what had happened. "I certainly made a bloomer of it," he finished. "She called me a cop, but she flattered me. The kindergarten class of rookies would disown me.” "Stop the worry," advised Chan. "Woman a little too smart, that is all." "That's enough,” Eden answered. "After this, you officiate. As a detective, I'm a great little jeweler.” They dined at a hotel, and took the five-thirty train to Barstow. As they sped on through the gathering dusk, Bob Eden looked at his companion. "Well, it's over, Charlie," he said. "The day from which we hoped for so much. And what have we gained? Nothing. Am I right?" "Pretty close to right,” admitted Chan. "I tell you, Charlie, we can't go on. Our position is hopeless. We'll have to go to the sheriff—" "With what? Pardon that I interrupt. But realize, please, that all our evidence is hazy, like flowers seen in a pool. Madden is big man, his word law to many.” The train paused at a station. "We go to sheriff with queer talk—a dead parrot, tale of a desert rat, half-blind and maybe crazy, suitcase in attic filled with old clothes. Can we 328 comiicboeoe S CO