The Adventures Of Sherlock Jones
July, 1975
"A Motorcar Engine that runs on mother's milk? Intriguing concept, eh, Datson?" Mr. Sherlock Jones's ebon orbs twinkled my way; he tugged at the luxuriant steel-wool "do" under his deerstalker cap with a spatulalike Afro comb and touched a match to the bowl of his calabash, sending clouds of his favorite tobacco--Julian Bond Street--scudding with aromatic militance across our sitting room. The pipe had been a gift from the Newport Jazz Festival for proving that the untypical...
