On the floor just inside his living room door he found an
envelope--unstamped and bearing his name in typing.
The note inside, on paper as plain as the envelope, was typed and
unsigned.
"If Detective Dundee will consult page 410 of the latest WHO'S WHO IN
AMERICA, he will find a tip which should aid him materially in solving
the two murder cases which seem to be proving too difficult for his
inexperience."
A wry grin at his anonymous correspondent's unfriendly gibe was just
twisting his lips when a double knock sounded on the living room door,
which he had not completely closed.
"Come in, Belle!"
A morose, slack-mouthed mulatto girl in ancient felt slippers sidled
into the room.
"Howdy, Mistah Dundee," Belle greeted him listlessly. "You got back, lak
de papers said you would, didn' yuh? An' I ain't sayin' I ain't glad!
Dat parrot o' yoahs sho is Gawd's own nuisance--nippin' at mah fingahs
an' screechin' his fool head off.... 'Cose I ain't sayin' it's
_his_ fault--keepin' dat young gemman on de secon' flo' awake las'
night.... But lak I say to Mistah Wilson, when he lights into me dis
mawnin', runnin' off at de mouf 'cause I fo'got to put Cap'n's covah on
his cage las' night, I ain't de onliest one what fo'gits in dis hyar
house.
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