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Case Closed! (old time radio)
Pursuit and Bulldog Drummond
This week's hour of mystery and crime begins with Pursuit, and its story from March 7, 1950, The Pursuit Of The Firebird. (30:54) Bulldog Drummond closes the show with Death Uses Disappearing Ink, from June 9, 1948. https://traffic.libsyn.com/forcedn/e55e1c7a-e213-4a20-8701-21862bdf1f8a/CaseClosed940.mp3 Download CaseClosed940 | Subscribe | Spotify | Support Case Closed
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Welcome back to Case Mystery and Crime from the Golden Age of Radio. Every Wednesday@ Relicradio.com. our first story comes from Pursuit. We'll hear the March 7, 1950 episode titled the Pursuit of the Firebird. After that it's Bulldog Drummond and Death uses disappearing ink. That story aired June 9, 1948. Pursuit, Pursuit. A criminal strikes and fades quickly back into the shadows of his dark world. And then, the man from Scotland Yard. The dangerous, relentless pursuit when man hunts man. Now with Ted De Courcy as starred as the famous Inspector Peter Black of Scotland Yard, we bring you tonight's story of violence and murder, the Pursuit of the Firebird. In crime fiction, coincidence seems to be the most popular motivating force when launching the heroic investigator into his usually ludicrous and often utterly fantastic involvements. As a man from Scotland Yard, I sometimes envy these supermen of the printed page, both for their amazing intuition and for their irresistible attraction to the opposite sex. Especially the latter. However, it was pure coincidence that launched me to the pursuit of the Firebird. And I had neither intuition nor the embraces of a beautiful woman to aid me. Simply the square toe deficiency of Detective Sergeant Muppet. Very well, sir. Very well. I shall hold it for you. When will you return? Tomorrow afternoon. Thank you. Oh, Chief Inspector Black. Fancy meeting you here. More to the point, Mr. Baxter, fancy meeting you here. I wasn't aware that you counted music among your varied interests. Why not? You'll change your attitude toward private detectives one of these days. We do a lot of good for the private citizens. Well, ta to, Inspector. How nice to see you, Inspector. Good to think. How are you, Mr. Quail? I'd like a copy of the Firebird Suite if you have it. Oh, what a shame. There's just one copy and I'm saving for the gentleman who just left. And one. Oh. Oh, yes, yes. Oh, that's a pity. It's Mrs. Muffet's birthday. I'm going there for supper. I wanted to give it to her. Look here, I'm sure I can get another before tomorrow afternoon. He won't be in until then. That's very kind of you, Mr. Quail. I'm ever so much obliged. I refer to a prison for it. How is Mr. Moffitt? As ever, Mr. Crail. Moffitt. Just a moment, sir. Please give him my regards and his ill lady. You wish me to bid you please? Of course. Here you are. Thank you, Mr. Quail. And now, sir, what can I do for you? Oh, a gentleman came in a few moments ago, A friend of mine. I was wondering about his musical taste for a suit or present. I noticed it was rather a lovely evening as I made my way to the tube station with Mrs. Muffet's birthday present tucked under my arm. The Muppets lived in a comfortable, solid house in Maida Vale. I always enjoyed my all too infrequent visits there. The sergeant's wife of placid, happy soul. And the Sergeant, not the Muppet of Scotland Yard, but the moppet of slippers and pipe of coal scuttle and fireplace. But my pleasant musings were marred by one fact. From the moment I left the record shop, I had been followed by the private detective Baxter, almost to the door of Moffat's home. Inspector. I'm so glad, Mrs. Muffett. Many happy returns. Oh, record. You remember. Oh, you really shouldn't, you know. I'm much too old. Nonsense, my dear. Just for that, Inspector, I shall tell you what we are going to have. No supper. No, no, no. Let me guess. Veal and pot pie. Oh, you Detective Market. Marty, the inspector's here. Oh, hello, sir. Over there, Dippy. I don't. Please, make yourself comfortable. Here. Your favorite chair, huh? May I open it now? Yes, yes, of course. Oh, the Firebird. How wonderful. I'll put it on while I'm finishing supper. Well, sir, and what do you have? Nothing. Nothing, thanks, M. I received a new fishing tackle catalog by post this morning, sir. Perhaps you'd like to have a look. What is it, sir? Muppet. You remember a private detective Baxter? What? That dirty little knucker? I thought he'd been sent to Wandsworth long ago. Followed me for Mr. Quail's record shop. All the way here, sir? Yes, yes, on the run. Be a good chap and have a look out the window, will. There's somebody There, sir, about 50ft down the street. Record Shop Records. Baxter, the Firebird, he was granted by this album. Marcus, why did you take it off? The inspector wants to see something. Anything wrong? No, dear. I'll be hanged. This one's a Dudno label. It looks like one of those. What the devil do they call them? Transcription records. Private recording, you know. Oh, what a shame. Oh, I'm frightfully sorry, Mrs. Muffett. I say, do you think you can play it, Muffin? I'm not sure, sir, but I'll try. There she goes, sir. Doesn't seem to have anything on it, sir. Oh, look. Listen. Sacred, isn't it? Just like a BBC play. Somebody's making a drink. What do you think, Mommy? I don't know, darling. How did you get here? Oh, are you expecting some of. Oh, of course not, Clint. She's already here. They're dying to meet her. She. I don't know what you're talking about. You told her that you're already married. How the devil did you find me here? I hired a detective. Followed you every Friday night. When you told me you were staying in the club, you went to Paddock and caught the 825 while I was there tonight. I came out of the same train with you Tonight. Very well. I took this cottage in secrecy because I think her husband has the right to be alone. I know all about that, too. He must have chosen a more imaginative name than Helm. Yes. So does he mean travel on the same train with you? Hers just arrived. Now, look here, this isn't doing any good. Are you going to clear out or shall I? Neither one of us will. Don't wait for her. Make me a drink. So, sir, it seems to have cut off. Let it run on. There may be more. Okay. Can it be? Terribly well played, don't you think? It's not a play, Mrs. Muffet. You really think there's something to it? My Grace, will you really? No, I'm quite comfortable where I am. Well, Gilbert, you can't see the lady waiting outside. Ask her to come in. Or shall I come in? My dear, I'm here. But what grace? I warn you, stay where you are. Grace. Inspector. I don't like the sound of that, sir. Nor I. Muffett. You can't believe it. It couldn't be. Ah, yes, Mrs. Muffet, it could. When did it happen? And where, sir? I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Moffatt. I'm afraid I shan't be able to share your birthday party. Poor dear. It's a shame you don't get a moment's peace. I'll take this album and get another for you tomorrow. I promise you that next time nothing will interrupt my visit. Go on, Inspector. I bet you did it on purpose. You probably got an appointment with a pretty blonde Mrs. Moffett tonight. You are the only woman in my life. Why don't you say things like that to me? I don't have to. I'm married to a young girl. Oh, you're terrible. No need for you to come out, Muffet. I can manage him alone. I don't see him, sir. Probably waiting for me down at the corner. Fog's coming in. Better phone the Yard. Have them send a car out. Mr. Baxter is so interested in these records, we'll see what he has to say about them at the Yard. I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Mar. Good night. The thug began to swell around the light from a solitary lamppost as I searched the street for the private detective. Then I saw him. Baxter was lying across the pavement with his head lolling over the curbing. I bent over him. He was dead. Who is it? That you, Marvin? Inspector, sir. Are you all right, Inspector? Inspector. Knock. He's moving. Muffet. Muffet. Yes, sir. Oh, you got a nasty crack, sir. Oh. The patrol car found you and the dead man. They brought you inside. Oh, my head. Blasted idiot. Moffet. Whoever it was got the record. Don't worry about that now, sir. We'll take care of your head first. All right, Muffet. All right. Next morning, in a foul mood and with a crashing headache, I went to Scotland Yard and put through a query on the deceased, Baxter. I wanted information on his files, if any. Then, with Moppet, I returned to the record shop of Mr. Quail on Wigmore Street. Ah, Inspector. Good morning, Mr. Moffet. Mr. Quail, concerning the firebird you sold me last evening. Extraordinary performance, don't you think? Yes. Particularly the last record. Ah, yes. Beautiful. Mr. Quail, that record was not in the album. Oh. Oh, yes, of course. How could I have forgotten? I tried to catch you after you left. The Mr. Baxter who had bought the album left the last record in the playing booth. Here we are. How terribly this sub customers are so hopeless. Another man came in while I was here. Had you ever seen him before? Another man? No, no, no, no, no. He didn't buy anything. He went out again. Yes, I remember. That's right. You are quite sure that both men were strangers to you? Oh, it's quite your conscience, don't you know? Well, if either comes in again, I'd be obliged if you'd call me at the island. Of course. Thank you. Inspector. You forgot the record. I'll come back for it, Mr. Crayole. Very good. Good morning. I think he knows more than he stays, sir. I can't believe that he does. Moffet has known him for some time. Baxter could have told us, or if only we had that record. It kept me awake last night, sir. How many times did the clock strike? In the beginning, I said it was nine, and Mrs. Moffitt insisted it was ten. No, it was ten, Moffatt, I think. And there was a train pulling out. We heard that. That's right, sir. Yes, but from where? There was no town mentioned. Or was There. No. Somebody I. I think it was the woman spoke of Paddington Station. Paddington? Yes. She'd hired a detective who followed her husband to Paddington. Paddington Station. Come on. We're going down there. In just a few moments, we'll bring you the second act of pursuit with Peter Black, the man from Scotland Yard. But first, a brief word of interest to all of us. Freedom of information is one of our most precious guarantees. And if we don't take advantage of it, well, it's like letting a tasty apple go to rot right in front of your eyes. For in a democracy like ours, the more the people know, the stronger our democracy is. As a serviceman and as a citizen, you have an obligation to your country to know the score. And an obligation to yourself, too. It's easy and pleasant to fulfill that obligation. Get the facts, the complete information by reading newspapers, magazines, books and listening to your radio. Keep your eyes and your ears open. Information is more important to you now than ever before. Remember, the more you know, the higher you go. It's as simple as that. And now we return you to pursuit and Inspector Peter Black of Scotland Yard. We are trying to ascertain the point of arrival of a particular train. Very well, sir. What time does it leave here, sir? Yes, that we don't know. But it arrives at 10pm oh, sir, but where? There's a great many trains that arrive at 10pm somewhere. Yes. Wait a moment. Moffitt departure time was mentioned on the record. Instead of going to the club on Friday evenings, the husband came to Paddington and caught the. What time was it, Martin? I can't remember, sir. My husband was followed by a detective, came to Paddington and caught the 8:25. Yes, that's it, sir. Now, sir, what friends leave here on Friday night at 8:25? Friday night. Very disturbing, I would say. Friday night, 8:25. Here we are. Paddington High Wycombe. Leave Paddington at 8:25. Roy. High Wycombe. 9:56 High Wycombe. That sounds like it's it. No, no, not it. The husband left at 8:25. But he and his wife were already in the house when the other woman arrived at 10:00. That was the train we had. Yes. Yeah, but we are getting somewhere. What are the stops? On the way to High Wycombe, he stops only 825 francs with none. Oh, well, that's out then. Mr. Murray, here's another 8 25, sir. Huh? Leaves Paddington for Reading. Are there any other trains that leave later and make 10:00 stops on that route? 10:00. Just a second. Here's one. Leaves at 9. 15, arrives at Windsor and Eton at 10. Good, sir. And another leaving at 9. 25. Arrives at Twyford at 10:02. That's only to sit down. Good. That's a lot, sir. You're absolutely positive? Oh, yes, sir. Friday night. Indeed. May I have the schedule, please? Certainly, sir. Thank you. Well, Muffet, Windsor and eating or twilight? Well, it's something, sir. You know, Sergeant, my headache is beginning to disappear. The pursuit had a nightmarish quality. The investigation of the private detective led us nowhere. He had numerous enemies, it could be assumed, but no files in his dilapidated office. So up to this point we had nothing to follow but the elusive sounds and voices on a recording that we had heard only once. Didn't know who the principals were. We didn't know when the incident had taken place. But we were a little closer to knowing where it had occurred. Muppet and I spent a day questioning railway personnel and house brokers at Windsor. Neat. When we had finished, the results were negative. We didn't know whether this proved failure or progress. And so the following morning we moved on to Triford. And by early afternoon we found ourselves still with no answers. We left the station master apologetically shrugging his shoulders, and walked slowly up the high street. I don't know, sir. You'd think that in a way station like this somebody would remember a young woman who got off a through train every Friday night. Yes, I know. Well, there's only one house broker here. We'll just have to trust the luck. It must be at the end of the road here. Station master told it was number 318, which is 162 Matuani. Look here, Moffitt. Assuming that the case is as we discussed it, does this make sense? The woman hires the detective Baxter to follow and obtain evidence against her husband. She learns from his reports that under an assumed name he let a cottage. The tech then installs a recording apparatus in order to substantiate evidence. Then why did the wife come there herself? Possibly to confront him with the girl. At any rate, when the scene ended in violence, the record was used by the tech as a blackmail device. And you stumbled into it, sir, when you bought that album of The Firebird for Mrs. Moffet. So it seems. But who died in that room? The wife, Grace, or Daphne, the eternal other woman. Well, it sounds right, sir. Yes. And so do those bells, Moffett. Hear them? Ever since we first heard them this morning, I'll swear they're the Same as those on the record. Well, I've got much of an ear for it, sir. I hope you're right. Oh. Oh, there it is. Past Worthy and Hammerfish House Brokers. Good day, gentlemen, and good afternoon. Mr. Passworthy? Oh, no, I'm a hammerfish. Mr. Farsworthy died 15 years ago. He was a senior partner of the firm. I'm Chief Inspector Black of Scotland Yard. How do you do, Mr. Hammerfish? We're trying to locate a gentleman by the name of Harold Smith whom I have reason to believe let a cottage in Triford. Possibly from you, sir. Smith? A little difficult that, sir. Can you tell me when? Well, as a matter of fact, I can't. You are the only housebroker in the village, are you not? Oh, yes. But then if he has been renting, he would deal with you. Definitely, sir. You don't know where the cottage is? No. But you know that it is here in 12th? I think so. Mr. Hammerfish. You have quite a problem, have you not, Inspector? Yes, rather. I'm afraid it's another town, sir. There's absolutely no one by the name of Harold Smith letting a cottage through Byhouse. Well, thank you very much, Mr. Hammerfish. I'm sorry to have troubled you. I wish you luck, gentlemen. Thank you. Muffin? Yes, sir. When do you think the shooting took place? Oh, I don't know, sir. Two weeks ago, possibly three. Why? Why do you think that? And why have I? Well, I really couldn't say, sir. Of course you couldn't. Because it's psychologically right for us to think that all the actual events, the man who followed me, the attack, the murder of Baxter, they've all been recent. Therefore, we have assumed that the recorded events took place recently. But suppose they didn't mount it? Suppose they took place a year ago? Two years? Three? Even more. My gumsa. That hadn't occurred to me. Now let's return to Mr. Hammerfish. Possibly his files will refresh his memory. And they did. Ten minutes later, a page filled with the Spencerian scroll of Mr. Hammerfish told us that Harold Smith had engaged a cottage on Millbridge Road in June of the year 1945. We followed the history of the cottage, and as we did so, the path of pursuit unwound and straightened into its inevitable course. Now, Inspector, here we are. As I told you, I had never seen Mr. Swift Smith. All our business was done by post. In October of 1945, he notified me. Here's the letter. That a sudden change of plan necessitated his leaving the cottage. He paid me for a Month after that, sir. Very unusual. I'd forgotten. Two days later, a Mr. Amberly came here and asked to purchase the same cottage. He insisted that he could be satisfied with no other Amberley. Yes. Gilbert C. Amber. Muppet. Gilbert. Gilbert. The voice on the record that finally came to life. Muffet and I left Twyford by the first train and an hour and 15 minutes later were in the army. We consulted the files of missing persons for the year 1945. And then, when we had found what we sought, our case was all but complete. We were now ready to go to the address given to us by Mr. Hammerfish. Yes? Mrs. Amberley? Yes. Inspector Black of Scotland Yard. The Inspector is Sergeant Muffet. May we come in? Please do. Did you want to see my husband? If you don't mind. Not at all. You follow me. Thank you. Gilbert. Oh, yes, my dear. These gentlemen are from Scotland Yard. Inspector Black and Sergeant Moffet. Oh, well, won't you sit down? Thank you. Mr. Amberly, I. I must say that. No good reason. I. I feel guilty. Does a visit from the police always inspire such a reaction? I've really had no contact with you chaps. Then you've been extremely fortunate, sir, up to now. What do you mean? Five years ago, a girl was reported to the Yard by a friend as missing. Her name was Daphne Lane. She has never been found. Oh, Grace. Perhaps the gentleman would like some tea? No, thank you, sir. To continue, Miss Lane was known to have visited a cottage in Millbridge Road at Twyford, which was let in the name of Harold Smith. That was you, sir. Nonsense. I. I own a cottage there. But Smith. Nonsense. Do you also deny, sir, that three days ago, at approximately half past five, you were in a gramophone shop on Wigmore Street? I. Yes, I do. Very well. And also that you followed a man by the name of Baxter to Maida Vale? Why the devil should I follow anyone? Because, sir, you knew that Baxter was in possession of a record that has been very important to you during the past five years. And that by mere chance, the record found its way into my hands. Record? I submit these facts to you, sir, that on a certain night in October 1945, either you or Mrs. Amberley shot to death the woman, Daphne Lane, in the cottage at Twyford. That the recording, taken by a detective Baxter, hired by your wife, has been used as a weapon of blackmail against you. That three nights ago, after following Baxter, you killed him and then took the incriminating record from me. Facts. You call these facts? By their theories. And since they do not concern me. I must ask you to leave. Very well, Mr. Amberley. But when I do, I'm going back to the cottage at Triford. And I shall tear up every inch of ground and cellar. Because I'm convinced that you didn't purchase the place for sheer sentiment's sake. And I am sure you know what I am going to find. Grace. No. Stop it. And if she doesn't stop it, Mr. Amberley, will you shoot her? It's been horrible. Five years, Grace. No, no, no, don't, please. Five years dreaming of it and living it every hour of the day. I can't help it, Gilbert. I want it to be finished. I'm glad it is. Well, Mr. Ambler? It's true. And I admit my part in it. My loyalties were to my wife, not to that poor girl. I wanted to protect Grace. In order to do so, I. I had to kill Baxter. You were a little late, sir, in realizing those loyalties. Funny you should say that, Inspector. You see, it's only been during these frightened years. We found a closeness and even happiness we'd never known before. Grace. Oh, my dear. And so, a husband and wife who had been drawn together by murder spent their last few moments before their formal arrest. An arrest which would part them forever. Pursuit. And the Pursuit is Ended. Pursuit is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis and written by Gil Dowd and Anthony Ellis. Music was arranged and conducted by Marlon Skiles. Featured in the cast were Raymond Lawrence, Doris Lloyd, Peggy Weber, Joseph Kearns, Luke Krugman and Bill Johnst. Pursuit. You've been listening to Pursuit. Dynamic Tales from the Files of the man from Scotland Yard, wherein Man Huntsman Pursuit is a regular presentation of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, the voice of information and education. Sad of the fog, out of the night and into his American adventures comes Bulldog Drummond. Here in my mind I'm trying to remember. Trying to fit the pieces together. But nothing makes sense. Yet this room. I find myself in this room where I see everything through a dancing yellow haze. And the voices, the faraway voices that come down to me through a dark, echoing alley. I try to raise myself, but I can't. But I've got to keep trying. Because there isn't much time left. Time. Through the yellow haze, I could just make out the face of the clock. The hands creep toward midnight. In an hour it'll be done. I've got to stop it somehow, some way. In an hour a man will die. That much I can remember now. But there are the other pieces in the crazy jigsaw. Puzzle. The whirling pieces which flies sickeningly around inside. Hear my mind. The voices. My name is Linda Bennett. I need your help. That voice. That's what I want. My name is Linda Bennett. I need your help. Linda Bennett. Linda. Ben. Linda Bennett. Yes. And the train. The shiny metal serpent racing across the flatlands of the Southwest. Denny and I were aboard the Blue Comet, headed home from California. After a pleasant chat in the lounge car, we went back to our compartment to turn in. Why, captain Drummond, the door is locked. Ridiculous, Denny. These compartment doors lock only from the inside. Here, let me try. Well, you're right. It is locked. Well, then someone must be in there. In our compartment. Denny and I stood there for a moment, puzzled. I was just about to knock when suddenly the door opened. Yes? What is it? Well, sir, what do you make of that? Denny? I'm speechless. Well, what do you two want? What do we want? You were trying to enter my compartment, young lady. That appears to be a regrettable error on your part. Why regrettable, Denny? Sometimes your choice of words fits the occasion badly. An error? Yes. Regrettable? I don't think so. I'm sure this very attractive young lady. Look, will you tell me what you're driving at? I admit your presence enhances the drab decor of a train compartment. But? But I don't recall having you included when I booked this space. You mean this is your compartment? In a word, yes. That's our luggage on the seat there. That luggage? Oh, I didn't notice. Really. I say, she's up to something. Now, see here, anybody can make a mistake. The door, Denny. Very well. Captain Drummond. Captain. Oh, are you Captain Drummond? I thought you knew. No. Why should I? You picked out my compartment in which to hide. How do you know I was hiding? A doctor recognizes a malady by its symptoms. My business has its symptomatic arrows, too. Although I admit I can't quite yet put the finger on your particular malady. I'll need some background data first. My name is Linda Bennett. I need your help. I'll call you, Linda. Dr. Drummond's bedside manner. Go ahead, Linda. I'm on my way to Mexico City to find my brother. You're off to a bad start. This train is headed due east. Yes, I know. I'm getting off at Tucson. I'm flying from Tucson to Mexico. I was going to take a plane from Los Angeles, but he followed me to the ticket office, so I had to change my plans. And who is he? Well, I don't know who he is or what his Name is, but I think he's the same one who spoke to me on the phone. I'm frightened, Captain Drummond. Awfully frightened. Sit down, Linda. Sit right here. No, I've got to find Robert. I've got to find out what's happened to my brother. All right, I'll help you. I'll do whatever I can. Thank you, Captain Drummond. Thank you. But you could do something for me right now. What? Here. Take this envelope. It's addressed to a general delivery number in Mexico City. Yes. What's in the envelope, Ms. Bennet? A note to my brother telling him I'm coming there and where he can meet me. You see, he warned me not to come. In his last letter, he told me to send all my mail to that post office box number. He said he wouldn't be able to answer me, but that he'd get all my messages. Captain Drummond, I want you to mail that letter for me at the next stop. If I get off the train before Tucson, I may never get to Mexico City. Life. The man who followed you about in Los Angeles. Yes? He's on this train. I saw him. Where? When? Well, I was returning to my compartment from the ladies lounge. When I opened the door, he was sitting there. I turned and ran through the cars. Then I tried this door, and it was open. I locked myself in. And then you came. What's your compartment number? 21, class C. 21, car C. Denny, you stay here with her. Captain Drummond, wait. Yes, Please. You'd better not go there. Why not? I'm anxious to have a chat with your pursuit. No, you better not go. He was sitting there with a gun in his hand. He'll think it's me. And when you open that door, he'll kill you. What is it? A border message for Ms. Bennett. I walked in quietly, quickly. My gun pointed, but there was nothing to point it at except the train windows. And then the door slammed shut behind me. I didn't turn in time. You don't move. Another wrench you do and I make a hole in your back. That was rather a clumsy entrance I made. Wasn't the? Yes, sort of. You'll oblige me by dropping your gun in the seat there. Yes. When you put it so nicely, how can I refuse? Now turn around so I can see what you look like. How's this? You don't look stupid. My actions are deceiving. Sit down. Go ahead. Sit down on that seat opposite. Thank you. We'll have a talk. That gun you're holding is going to make contact. Conversation Difficult. I get lonely just sitting around waiting to do what I'm paid for. I'm glad you came in. I got somebody to talk to while I wait. Maybe you're waiting in vain. She'll come back. Well, I'm sure she won't. Then I'll find her someplace else. I always find them. That's my job. That's all. No, I kill him. Killing is my business. Nice work. You're in. Just like any other business, only harder. Rather risky too, I imagine. Yeah, it's risky. Hey, where do you tie in with that Bennett girl? I just want to make sure that she remains alive. She's a nice looking girl. Love, huh? No. Me, I don't trust him. When they're as nice looking as her, most times get some. Something tricky going on in back of their pretty faces. Who's paying you to kill Ms. Bennet and why? You're a good guy to talk to. You seem to understand. I'd like to tell you because you're such a good guy, but you know how it is. Yes, your secrets of the trade. Yeah, that's it. Sorry. Well, as long as she ain't coming back, I better get going. You tell her something for me, will ya? You tell her she can expect me anywhere along the line between here and Mexico City. Now get up. Face the window. That's it. Now you stay right there. You take my advice. Count to 10 before you come out of this compartment. It's nice talking to you. So long. I didn't take his advice about the counting. I pulled open the compartment door and rushed out into the corridor. And then I stopped. The corridor was empty. The man whose business was killing had disappeared. A killer was on that train. A confessed, cold, businesslike murderer. He was being paid to shoot down Linda Bennett. And Linda Bennett was with Denny in my compartment. I hurried back through the train. I opened the door and started across the platform that led to my car. And then a hand reached out and grasped my shoulder. Hold it, you. I want to talk to you. Well, I've seemed to become a popular conversationalist. Hey, what do you got your hands up like that for? I find it excellent insurance against being shot in the back. I promise you, no untoward mood on my part. Don't be a SAP, Drummer. What? Drop your hands and turn around. The only thing I'm going to point at you is this. I don't understand. Well, a batch like this should be familiar to a guy like you. Police? Yes, West Coast Homicide Division, Lieutenant. Name's Greg. Said Greg. Believe me, Lieutenant. Greg, You've no idea what a pleasant surprise you turned out to be. But tell me, how did you know who I was? Well, I checked around. I made it my business to find out after I saw the dame go into your compartment. Linda Bennett. You know her? Yeah, real good. I've been escorting Ms. Bennett for quite some time. Only she doesn't know it. You've been trailing her? Yes, for three months. Why? What's the reason? Didn't she tell you anything about it? About Larry Kramer? No, I. I don't know what you're talking about. Ms. Bennett just told me she was on her way to Mexico City to find her brother. Mexico City? Yeah, that might be it. He might be there. Then, Greg, would you mind letting me in on what's really going on? Oh, sure, sure. I'll get around to explanations a little later, when there's time. Right now, I'll give you a brief version. You can help me save a guy's life, Grumman. Whose life? Larry Kramer's. He's got to be saved before it's too late. Greg, I don't know anything about your Larry Kramer. But talking about saving lives, I have a special interest in the same field. Linda Bennett being that special interest. Now, what are you giving me? There's a killer aboard this train. That's why Linda Bennett came to my compartment. That's what she told you. It's something I found out for myself, too. What do you mean? I talked to the killer in her compartment. He didn't leave any doubt as to what he's up to. If and when he finds Linda Bennett, he'll kill her. Is this on the level? On the level? Greg and I want to make sure that he doesn't find Linda. Well, I don't know what your angle is there, Struman, but I'm just as anxious as you are to see that the Benedame doesn't get knocked off. Very well, then. Come on. She's still in my compartment. My man Denny is looking after her. She's not in your compartment, Drummond. What? What? I just came from there. But that guy you called Denny is still there with a lump on his head the size of an egg. What happened? Is Denny all right? Well, he was out cold when I left, but the doc said he'll come around. Okay. We better find that Benedane before that gun catches up with her. I'll take the cars ahead. You what? Come on. Look. Look. As I dropped, I felt a sharp sting in my shoulder. I looked around the train platform was Empty, save for Lieutenant Grace and me. And Greg was lying a few feet from me, face down. I called to him. He didn't answer. I crawled over and touched him. He didn't move. Sid. Greg was dead. Feeling better, Denny? Frankly, sir, I feel downright rotten. My head. I was just about to ask you how that happened. Well, I don't quite know, sir. A few minutes after you left, there was a knock on the compartment door. I opened it. No one was there. Then I stepped out into the corridor. And something hard and heavy fell on your head. Yes, sir. Very hard and extremely heavy. Captain Drummond. Yes, Denny? Ms. Bennet, she's all right? I imagine so. Where is she? I don't know. When the train pulled in at Tucson, I had every car searched. She wasn't aboard. But where could she have gone? She probably got off at Tucson unnoticed. It wouldn't have been difficult. I had lost interest in Linda Bennett momentarily. What do you mean, sir? I had a murder on my hands. Murder? A West coast police lieutenant named Sidney Greg was shot while I was with him. I was luckier than he. I escaped with a shoulder graze. Oh, really, sir, you're not making sense. Where does the police lieutenant come into this? Well, Greg didn't get a chance to tell me the full story. While I waited for this plane to Mexico City to take off, I phoned the west coast police and they gave me the details. Greg was interested in saving the life of a Larry Kramer. Kramer is sentenced to die next Wednesday for a murder. Greg believed Kramer to be innocent. He received special permission to work full time on the case. It still doesn't make sense to me, sir. What has all this to do with Linda Bennett? If it has anything to do with her, it certainly has, Denny. Linda Bennett was the state's material witness in the Kramer case. She was with Kramer. He was drunk when the shooting took place. Ms. Bennett's testimony secured the conviction against Kramer. But what about that story she told us of her brother in Mexico City? Ms. Bennet has no brother in Mexico City. She has no brother anywhere. But that envelope she gave you to mail, I mailed it. Oh, really, sir? That wasn't very clever of you, if I may say so. You may say so, Denny, but perhaps you'll be happy to hear I took the liberty of opening it first. Before I placed a stamp on it, of course. Oh. What did the letter say, sir? Nothing. What? Nothing. It was a blank. That is, it was this. A blank check. Here, look at it. Triangle National Bank, Los Angeles. A blank check. What do you suppose that means I don't know yet, but I'm holding on to it. I have an idea this blank draft is going to pay us dividends when we get to Mexico City. Mexico City? That's where this plane is taking us. Oh, yeah. To Mexico City and to Linda Bennett. You seem to be Fairly sure that Ms. Bennett will turn up there. Fairly? But how do you know that the killer won't find her before we do? Because, Denny, right now he's relying on us to pick up Ms. Bennett's trail for him. He booked reservations on this plane. What? On this plane? Don't turn around. Believe me, he's here, sitting just a few seats behind us. Denny and I went to the Mexico City post office. As usual, the killer came along. Denny had his instructions. I watched him walk across the concourse and take his station near the general delivery boxes. I stopped at one of the writing tables and waited. I could see my friend, the killer, leaning against a pillar near the main entrance to the post office. He looked properly confused. We all waited. Denny, he and I. Less than an hour passed when it happened. Box 41 was opened. The blonde young lady drew out an envelope, closed the box and walked away. The young lady was Linda Bennett. She looked even more attractive with her hair dyed blond. Denny followed after her. And after Denny, the ever present pursuer, I took my place at the end of the line. I beg your pardon? Okay. It is my fault. Senor. Senor, you are leaving? Sorry. I'm in a bit of a hurry. You do not give me an opportunity to apologize, senor. It's quite all right. My name, senor, is Dolores. A very pretty name. You. You do not go that way, senor. What? You turn. We go through this side door. This way. The car is waiting. The car? What are you talking about? You come the way I say. I have in my pocket a gun. You come with me, senor, or I will kill you right here. Senor, you will get into the car. As I stepped into the car, I saw a shiny object flash past my eyes. And then all the world fell in on me. Oh, here in my mind, I'm trying to remember, trying to fit the pieces together. And now they're together. On my face. I can smell the sharp odor of chloroform. Now I see the clock clearly. 20 after 11. At 12, Kramer will die. 40 minutes to save a man's life. I've got to get out of here. Ah, senor, you are awake. As she bent down to place the chloroform cloth to my face, I Reached out and grasped her arm. Oh, my arm let go. And with all the might left in me, I clenched my fist. I set it on its mission. I rushed across the room to the door, opened it and walked out into the night. I never knew fresh air could smell so good. A few yards from the house, I saw the black sedan. I got into the car, switched on the ignition, slammed the car into gear and cut into the darkness ahead. Hello, Mr. Barney. Hey, killer. Hal told me you just got back to town. I got good news for you, Mr. Barney. Good news? I hear that's why I came back to Mexico City. Where's the Bennett dame? Outside. What about the character you picked up with her? He's Drummond's boy. The boat outside with Steve. What about Drummond? Delores and Manuel got him out at their shack. All the eggs in one basket, eh? Can I? That's right, Mr. Barney. By the way, Steve took care of that Los Angeles cop, Greg, for you on the train. Yeah, Al told me. You can bring that Bennett doll in now. Can I? What about Denny? I got nothing to say to him. Okay, Steve, Mr. Vonnie wants to see you. Go on, sweet face. This way. Here she is, Mr. Varney. Hello, Linda. What's the matter, baby? Is she glad to see Chris Varney again? She don't look like she's glad, Mr. Varney. That's funny. I hear she's been breaking her neck to locate me. That right, Linda? You sure played me for a snap, Farney. I went down the line for you. I did everything just as you wanted it. I lied my tongue out on that witness stand. I got that conviction against Larry Kramer. That's right, Linda. Those smart words of yours built a neat frame around Kramer. The neatest frame I ever saw. I showed you my appreciation, didn't it? You got my check for 10,000. I wrote it out for you nice and clear. 10 GS? That's what it said, didn't it? It said nothing. When I looked at it the next morning, it was blank. Blank. What do you know about that, Killer? That's tough. Who wrote that check with disappearing ink? Chris? That was a dirty, rotten trick to pull. You should have complained to the cops, Linda. All right, all right. Go ahead. Have your fun. Have a good laugh. Here's something else to laugh about. But maybe it won't be so funny. Five minutes to 12, killer. Five minutes. And you listen to me, Chris, because I'm not finished. You're making that 10,000 good. Because if you don't, the police back on the coast are Gonna hear the real story. Mexico City is a long way from the coast. A long way. Yeah, I thought of that, too. Chris. I gave an envelope to my roommate, Dolly Wilson. Nice kid, Dolly. That envelope's got the whole story in it. If anything happens to me, Dolly turns that envelope over to the district attorney. A real nice kid, Dolly. It's too bad. Too bad Steve had to smash in that pretty face of her. What she tried to hold off from him. But how much plastering can a dame take in the face? This the envelope you're talking about? You've got it? Yeah, I got it, baby. I got everything I want. Killer. Yeah, Mr. Varney? You can take care of Drummond's boy now. What about her? She's next. Then you go out to the shack to take care of Drummond. Go ahead, Killer. Get started. Okay, Mr. Vani. Sit down, Linda. You got a little time until Killer gets to you. Sit down and enjoy the sound of cigarette, Lindsay. Two shots. Killer must be losing his touch. Sure you don't want to smoke, Linda? Okay, Killer, you can take her now. She's getting to be rough. And company. Then, Barney. Maybe I can stir your interest, Captain Drummond. Your trigger man is a bit indisposed, Barney. Yes. Those shots you heard were directed at him, Captain Drummond, as you see, won the argument. Captain Drummond. I was next. He was going to kill me next. Well, if for only one reason. I'm glad he didn't get around to you. The State of California is eagerly awaiting your arrival, Ms. Bennet, as a material witness in a new murder trial and the exoneration of Larry Kramer. Oh, sir. What is it, Denny? Look, sir, that clock is past midnight. Kramer, it's too late. No, Denny, it's not too late. Before I arrived here at Varney's place, I got a call through to the warden at the state prison. You got a stay of execution? Yes. I promised new and revealing evidence in the case against Larry Crane. Well, sir, shall we wrap up the evidence and take it along? By all means. Oh, Captain Drummond, just one more thing. Yes? I know mine is not to reason why, but how did you ever get here, sir? How did you know where to come? That blank check of Ms. Bennett's. What about it? It wasn't really blank at all. I dipped it in a solution of lemon juice this morning. Lemon juice? Yes. The acids in the juice have the happy faculty of causing disappearing ink to make a reappearance. The check was for $10,000 made out to Linda Bennett, signed by Chris Vonnie. It wasn't difficult to find Varney's residence here in Mexico City. By the way, Varney, this should be of small comfort to you and your friends. The ink the law uses has absolutely no disappearing properties whatsoever. Once it's down on indictment papers, it sticks it. There's more from Pursuit, Bulldog Drummond, Case Closed, and all of the Relic radio podcasts@ Relicradio.com you'll also find our Shoutcast stream there with even more Old Time Radio and a donate button if you'd like to help support this and all of the shows. It's how all of this is made possible. Thanks to those who have helped out. Thanks for joining me this week. Be back again next Wednesday with another hour of Case Closed.