Don't Be Surprised

I do not propose to be Lemmy Caution of the F. B. I. on this job. No, sir. I have come over as Cyrus T. Hickory of the Transcontinental Detective Agency-a private dick-an' I will tell you why.

Blood's runnin' down my face from where this guy's just bust me, my nose feels like it's split in half. Then this dame gets up an' strolls over to me - I reckon I am not lookin' quite so good.

She says: 'Well for cryin' out loud.'

Is this my big day or is it?

She stands lookin' at me, sippin' champagne. 'So you're a big "G" man,' she says. 'Well, personally, if you hadn't got a lot comin' to you I would take a bust at you myself, you lousy, crawlin', gum-shoein' dick. Have a drop of liquor, big boy.' She pours the contents of her glass over my face. It stings like hell, but I'm tellin' you it was good liquor. /

Another Lemmy Caution detective story, this time taking him to Paris, packed with chills, spills, action and dames.

You'd Be Surprised was originally published in 1940.

'Peter Cheyney is the Damon Runyon of crime' The Times