The Singapore Wink

Chapter XXVI

When our flight landed at Los Angeles, Trippet and I went in search of a stamp machine. We fed dimes and nickels and quarters into it until we had almost three dollars’ worth. He helped me lick them and we pasted them on the carefully wrapped package that Lim had pushed across his desk.

I borrowed Trippet’s broad-nibbed fountain pen and printed the address on the package of microfilm. It read: “Mr. J. Edgar Hoover, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington, D.C.”

“You have the zip code?” Trippet said.

“No.”

“What about the sender’s address?”

“I’m coming to that.”

I printed it carefully in the upper left-hand corner and then showed it to Trippet. It read: “Samuel C. Dangerfield, Bowie, Maryland.”