Chapter 25 Section 2 Entrustment

"Why did you entrust me? Why don't you send it yourself? By the way, what kind of novel is this?" I was holding the heavy brown leather envelope that old Jim had handed me, addressed—and inside was a stack of neatly written pages, as I could imagine. "What else can it be? What kind of novels can an old detective or an old file manager write? You should know the address after looking at it." I immediately looked at the address on the envelope: Mr. Shaye Hartbar Libertarian Supplement, Public Detective Column Editorial Office Room 003, 12th Floor, 431 Olive Street, Libertarian City "Detective fiction?" One of the things to do.

"Hey, I can't think of it! Wenzel, what do you think I will write? This thing took me a lot of energy." Old Jim smiled. "You should have shown us the first draft! You're a writer, old Jim! I knew it—you've got everybody's ear for the stories you tell in the chatter." "Maybe I won't be admitted? I really hope,? After retirement, I can still tell stories among you young people?" Old Jim seemed a little sad besides being embarrassed-I don't know if people who are about to retire are like this; The feeling of suffocation. Old Jim certainly wasn't going to let the bad feeling go on - he looked at me and gave me his usual, Jim Watson smile:

"Ha, don't you think I'm playing with sentimentality? Wenzel, I said, you and I—you're resigning, and I'm retiring soon: but, you know I'll never let go of small talk time ——So, maybe next time I will go to the bureau to 'work' on a voluntary basis. At that time, you must not be absent!" "Tsk, of course—hey, 'compulsory work', I will definitely attend on time!" "That's right! Young man, as I said, take it easy—it's such a wonderful life!" (Author's note: This section seems a bit too short (the same as the previous section), but it is the result of repeated consideration-I have no intention of patching up the word count for the neatness between chapters, and I hope that the editors will not "kindly" destroy My article structure: there seems to be nothing wrong with chapters with a particularly small number of words in a novel, as long as it is necessary for the plot arrangement)