"Why, Governor, you're giving me too
much credit. It was worked out by one of the greatest detectives of
all time, some two thousand years ago. His name was Euclid."
CHAPTER XI
THE MILLION-DOLLAR DOG
To this day, Average Jones maintains that he felt a distinct thrill
at first sight of the advertisement. Yet Fate might well have
chosen a more appropriate ambush in any one of a hundred of the
strange clippings which were grist to the Ad-Visor's mill. Out of a
bulky pile of the day's paragraphs, however, it was this one that
leaped, significant, to his eye.
WANTED--Ten thousand loathly black beetles, by
A leaseholder who contracted to leave a house in the
same condition as he found it. Ackroyd,
100 W. Sixteenth St. New York
"Black beetles, eh?" observed Average Jones. "This Ackroyd person
seems to be a merry little jester. Well, I'm feeling rather
jocular, myself, this morning. How does one collect black beetles,
I wonder? When in doubt, inquire of the resourceful Simpson.
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