Although the good-natured mid-century horniness of Shell Scott is present here ("by golly, that girl is in a SWIMSUIT!"), there's the looming shadow of the crank Prather would eventually become, with an anti-drug animus that's frankly creepy, complete with a "all addicts will murder you for a fix" side story that takes up two and a half pages.  It really ruins the fun of what would otherwise have been quite a serviceable Shell Scott adventure.