The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

———_— . = on brought home from London, and for which he had paid a price that made all Honolulu gasp. Eden, of Meek and Eden, continued to stare into the fog. It was pleasant to relive that night in Hawaii, a night filled with magic and the scent of exotic blossoms, to hear again the giddy laughter, the distant murmur of the surf, the soft croon of island music. Dimly he recalled Sally's blue eyes shining up at him. More vividly—for he was hearly sixty now, and a business man—he saw again the big lustrous pearls that lay on her breast, reflecting the light with a warm glow— Oh, well—he shrugged his shoulders. All that was forty years ago, and much had happened since. Sally's marriage to Fred Jordan, for example, and then, a few years later, the birth of her only child, of Victor. Eden smiled grimly. How ill-advised she had been when she named that foolish, wayward boy. He went over to his desk and sat down. No doubt it was some escapade of Victor's, he reflected, that was responsible for the scene shortly to be enacted here in this office on Post Street. Yes, of course, that was it. Victor, lurking in the wings, was about to ring down the final curtain on the drama of the Phillimore pearls. He was deep in his mail when, a few moments later, his secretary opened the door and announced: "Madame Jordan is calling." Eden rose. Sally Jordan was coming toward him over the Chinese rug. Gay and sprightly as ever—how 8 comiicboeoe S CO