The Lost Lady

My name is Re. I get ten a day on expenses from a detective bureau run by a guy named Anthony J. Lyons. They call me the lion's eye. With Jack Webb as Jeff Regan investigators stand by for hard-boiled action and mystery and thrilling adventure in tonight's story of The Lost Lady.

You'll find it in Hollywood, jammed in between Van Essen Wilton, right off the boulevard, past Avenue. Starts at a furniture store, runs for about a block and then crosses Franklin. What happens to it after that? I don't know. I only go as far as the grey apartment building on the even number side about the first

thing you see. Figures that the guy who built my place never read the earthquake laws a good crap game and shake it loose. Well that's where I live. Parkman 308 in the back where I can keep an eye on a brass drain pipe or tired out palm tree. I got a coffee pot and the bed comes out of the wall. It

isn't much but the phone company had to have an address. That's where I was last Monday night about eight o'clock and Cleveland fans were running up a house I was having a apartment above me when the phone rang.

I thought it might be somebody from Boston, was the lion. Regan. You should have joined the union. We got a new client. Yeah? You make a date? She flew in from Mexico City to 9 on American Airlines.

She needs help. They're saying that about the Democrat. Come to a fight. Try the State Department. She came all the way to Los Angeles to say... Tell her about the missing persons bureau. I told her about you.