(xx) India Quinine Contract

The man called X. Mr. X takes us to India, land of jeweled Maharajas and beautiful princesses. But as the story opens, Mr. X is not yet within a shot of softly tingling temple bells. For the moment, he's traveling down New York's great white way.

And the lady sharing the cab with him is not an Indian princess, but Miss Nancy Bessington, anxious to arrive on time for the opening of a new musical comedy. Driver, I want you to drop us at the Gotham Tower.

corner forty-fifth feet okay and that's miles away from the theater but what are you up to dani i'm trying to kill two birds of one stone to get rid of this barny old field and to deliver a letter letter are you by any chance working for the post office department no dare because the department in washington

that would be plenty interested in it washington and you went for that in my year ten minutes before curtain time oh i was going to tell you uh but this part of driving all i can think of was the police department 24th floor, turned out to celebrate it to your rights down the hall.

Just push the button in sort of mannequets. Come on, Nancy. Okay. Now this whole affair won't take a three minute, sweet. All I have to do is to deliver the letter to a certain Ama Pahilani.

Who? Well, he's representative of an East Indian Maharaja who's been here negotiating some deal or whatever. Well, what in the letter can? I think it's a contract. The boys didn't choose to tell me and I didn't choose to ask because I didn't want to be dragged into the letter.