I was reading the December 1958 issue of “Galaxy” magazine, and came
across this story entitled “The Number Of The Beast”, by Fritz Leiber. It’s a very formulaic puzzle story, about solving a murder mystery
based on some clues. The fun thing is that all the suspects are alien telepaths, and are guaranteed to be absolutely honest in admitting
guilt -- if correctly challenged. But accuse an innocent one of a
baseless charge, and the price the accuser pays will be heavy. Therein
occurs this passage:

“Sketch me your suspects then, quickly.” The Old Lieutenant closed
his eyes.

“There’s Tlik-Tcha the Martian,” the Young Captain began, ticking
them off on his fingers. “A nasty black beetle, that one. Held his
breath for twenty minutes and then belched it in my face. Kept
printing ‘No Comment’ white-on-black on his chest to whatever I
asked him. In Garamond type!”

“Cheer up, Jim. It might have been Rustic Capitals. Next.”

You can read it yourself here (page 90 onwards): <https://archive.org/details/galaxymagazine-1958-12/mode/2up>.

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