The Grey Man

The makers of camel cigarettes present dick-powel as Richard Diamond, private detective. What cigarette do you smoke, doctor? Again, that question has been asked of doctors in all parts of the country.

Doctors in every branch of medicine. And again, the brand name most is camel. Yes, according to this repeated nationwide survey, more doctors smoke camels than any other cigarette. Here transcribed is Richard Diamond, private detective starring Dick Powell.

It was a cold afternoon in New York. It was six inches of snow on the streets and twice that much on the firescape outside my window. I looked down at Broadway and watched the miserable pedestrians edging their way over the slippery ice-covered sidewalks and thought about burning some of my furniture.

It was just a day for anything unpleasant. And when the door to my office opened, I turned around to look at one of the most unpleasant sights I'd ever been faced with. Standing in the door was something that looked human, and I used the term human only because I stuck around long enough to find out for sure.

He was about six feet and well dressed in a dark gray overcoat. But his face raised goosebumps from my arghouse to my haircut. It was his dark gray as his overcoat, his whole face, his eyes, his lips, and when he spoke, even his tongue.

Mr. Diamond? Yeah? I want you to find him, man, and I want you to find him in the next five hours. He didn't sit down. He just stood there, facing me like a bad dream.

I pushed the chair back and got up, as though I had to be standing to protect myself from I protect myself from what was coming. The man I want you to find his name, Carns.