← Down These Mean Streets (Old Time Radio Detectives)
Down These Mean Streets (Old Time Radio Detectives)
Episode 599 - Art is Long and Crime is Fleeting (Boston Blackie, Jeff Regan, The Saint, & Johnny Dollar)
02:01:27
I may not know art, but I know what I like - and I like these four radio mysteries involving masterpieces, the artists who make them, and the crooks who try to steal them. First, Boston Blackie is forced to participate in an art heist to save his...
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Vincent Price
Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gut of the prison of the grave. The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. The Adventures of Sam Spade Detective the Adventures of the Saint, starring Vincent Price. Bob Bailey in the exciting adventures of the man with the action packed expense account, America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Hello and welcome to down these Mean Streets and more old time radio detectives and crime fighters. This week we're taking a trip into the art world with a quartet of radio mysteries involving masterpieces, the artists who create them and the crooks who try to steal or forge them. First up is Richard Calmer as Boston Blackie, Enemy to those who make him an enemy, friend to those who have no friend. It's still one of my favorite introductions to any radio detective show. In this syndicated mystery, Blackie comes up against an unscrupulous character who threatens to frame his pal Shorty for murder with fabricated evidence. That is, unless Blackie steals a painting for him. Then we'll hear Frank Graham as Jeff Regan, investigator, in the Barefoot Boy with Shoes Gone. That's a great title. It's an Armed Forces Radio Service rebroadcast of a show from January 25, 1950. Regan worked for the Penny pinching Anthony J. Lyon, president of the International Detective Bureau, and he earned himself the nickname the Lion's Eye. Now, usually when we hear Jeff Regan, we hear Jack Webb. He played Regan in the show's initial run in 1948, but when it returned to CBS in 1949, he was busy over on NBC starring in Dragnet. So he was succeeded by Frank Graham and later by Paul Dubov. In this run of the show, Lyon was played by Frank Nelson, who may be best known to radio fans as a character with a very distinctive voice who turned up in the oddest places to torment Jack Benny. What are you gonna have. Yeah, I don't know. A waiter. Waiter. Oh, him again. In this episode, a beautiful and wealthy woman hires Regan to locate a missing artist. Up third is Vincent Price, who was no stranger to the art world as Simon Templer, the Saint before he was an actor. Price studied art history at Yale, and using many pieces from their own collection, he and his wife established the Vincent Price Art Museum at East Los Angeles College. Price also partnered with sears in the 60s and 70s on the Vincent Price Collection of Fine Art, a series of prints handpicked by Price and sold to the public in Sears stores today. We'll hear him in Button Button Originally aired on NBC on March 11, 1951. The titular button is a man, an art collector and curator, who disappears soon after he has the Saint delivered to his door. That's just the beginning of an odd series of events that puts the Saint on the trail of art smugglers. And finally, John Lund stars as Johnny Dollar in the Alan Saxton Matter. Originally aired on CBS on October 20, 1953. The man with the action packed expense account is hired to find out if a recently purchased painting is truly a priceless work of art or a very clever forgery. Our gallery tour will begin with Boston Blackie right after these messages. This is the Cold season. What do medical authorities say about the common cold? Doctors tell us there's no known drug which will cure a cold. There are effective medications for treating complications accompanying or following a cold. If you've been taking sensible precautions and still have one cold after another, it's best to see your doctor. And here's another important health tip. When you have a cold and need a laxative, that's the time to rely on gentle Ex lacks pleasant tasting chocolate. Xlax helps you towards your normal regularity gently overnight. Ex Lax gets along with any cold remedies you may be taking. And Ex Lax works where nature wants in the lower track, not the stomach. Taken at bedtime, xlax won't disturb sleep gives you the closest thing to natural action. The next morning you're well on your way toward your normal regularity without upset or discomfort. So when you have a cold and need a laxative, take Ex Lax, the laxative you can use with complete confidence. Xlax helps you towards your normal regularity gently overnight. Xlax do you like rich, delicious chocolate flavored malted? Well, you can make a malted just like that right in your own kitchen with Kraft Chocolate flavored malted milk. Just make a tasty paste of Kraft Chocolate flavored malted milk and a little milk in the bottom of a big glass. Fill the glass with chilled milk, stir it once more and there. A craft malted is mighty nourishing too because it's filled with all the food values in milk. Get a jar of Kraft Chocolate flavored Malted Milk from your grocer and enjoy a Kraft Malted off. Your best bet for hot breakfast is Quaker Oats. The giant of the cereals is Quaker Oats. Delicious, nutritious, makes you feel ambitious. The giant of the cereals is Quaker Oats. Yes, if you want to be a star in sports and school activities, make your hot Cereal? Quaker Oats. Cause Quaker Oats helps grow the stars of the future. You get more growth, more endurance from oatmeal than from any other Whole grain cereal. Remember, Quaker and Mother's oats are the same. I dedicate this program to the fight against crime. Not merely crimes of violence and crimes of dishonesty, but crimes of intolerance, discrimination and bad citizenship. Crimes against America. Well. So the great Boston Blackie condescends to visit the lonely Henry Rice. Aren't you afraid your friends will look out and find out about this, Blackie? I'll take my chances with my friends, Rice. But I'm not gonna take a kicking around from you. I'm kicking you around. You know what you're doing? You're framing a murder on my friend Shorty. Oh, terribly unfair of me, isn't it? You know what it is? An out and out frame. The police are looking for evidence on the murder of that fellow Ashley. And you have phony evidence that makes it look as if Shorty killed him. So I do. So I do. A cigarette lighter, I think, with Shorty's initials on it. And Shorty's fingerprints on it, too. And it was found at the scene of Ashley's murder. I know, I know. I made sure it would be found there. I've got it, you know. Yes, for now. But I'm getting it back. Shorty has a record. If the police connect him with Ashley's death, Shorty's as good as dead himself. Yes, he will be, won't he? It looks as if your friend Shorty will go to the chair for murder. And you, the great Boston Blackie, won't be able to do anything about it. I might. I doubt it. Unpleasant position you're in, Blackie, but very pleasant for me. Look, I'll give you 10,000 for that lighter. Not interested. Making you miserable is worth 10 times 10,000. Then what will you take for the lighter? Nothing. You see, I have everything, Blackie. Everything. Even you in a jam. Look, you're an art collector, aren't you? Yes, of a sort. Of the sort who'd like the Abbot's painting in his collection. Well, now you're getting interesting. But the Abbot is not for sale, Blackie. It's in the city art gallery and under heavy guard. I know. But if you promise to give me Shorty's lighter, I'll get that abbot for you. You will? How? I'll steal it. That's absolutely impossible. You let me worry about that. You can't do it, Blackie. You can't do it. Can't I? It's 4:00 in the afternoon now. By 9:00 tonight, I'll have stolen that painting. And now back to Dick Calmer as Boston Blackie. Enemy to those who make him an enemy, friend to those who have no friend. Look in the left hand top drawer of my bureau, will you, Mary? I think you'll find a razor blade with a handle. All right. Should be right in the front of the drawer. See it? Yeah. I have it here. Thanks. Blackie, why are you collecting all this stuff? I can't tell you, Mary. Why not? Because in the first place you wouldn't like it. And in the place the ties for first, you wouldn't believe it. Now, let's see if I have everything in this bag. Well, you have a razor blade with a handle. You have a knife, rubber gloves and adhesive tape. That's everything you asked for so far, Ben. I guess I have everything I need. Now all I have to do is close the case there and be on my way. So long, Blackie. What are you going to do? Is it something wrong? Who, me do something wrong, Mary? Yes, you do something wrong, Blackie. Mary, you've hurt my feelings. All I'm going to do is get Shorty out of a jam with a knife, a razor blade, adhesive tape and a pair of rubber gloves. Yes. What have they got to do with getting Shorty out of a jam? A lot. And you're asking a lot of questions, not getting any answers. Oh, Blackie, please tell me where you're going. I'll worry myself sick. Oh, all right. I'm going to the city art galleries with a knife and a razor blade, adhesive tape and a pair of rubber gloves. I'm going to steal the Abbot painting. You are going to do what? Steal the Abbot painting and give it to Henry Rice. Oh, Blackie, you're not. But I am. And don't worry. As soon as he gives me Shorty cigarette lighter, I'm going to see that the painting goes right back to the gallery. I should think so. But that's not what worries me. It's how you're going to steal it. There are steel doors and steel shutters on the windows of that gallery. And there are men with guns everywhere. Oh, darling, I don't know how you can possibly steal the Abbot. Don't you, Mary? Well, don't feel too badly about it. Ask a million people and they'll tell you what can't be done. But ask me and I'll say it can come in. Inspector Faraday. Yeah, Rollins, pick up your telephone. There's a little surprise waiting for you on the other end of the line. Now, who is it? Little Red Riding Hood? No, Rollins, you've been around Blackie too much. No kidding. Inspector Faraday, somebody very interesting wants to talk to you. Yeah, and it's funny that you mention Blackie because he wants to talk to you about Blackie. Yeah, who is it? Pick up your phone and see. All right, I'll pick it up. But Rollins, if this is your idea of a joke. I'll give you an idea of what it's like to be pounding a beat. Hello? Hello, Inspector Faraday? This is Henry Rice. Henry Rice? Yes. You remember me? Of course. Remember you? Rice, if it takes me 100 years, I've got to. I'm so glad to see you. Remember me and still hold me in such high esteem. Hold you in high esteem? I'll high esteem you. I'm gonna hold you for murder by how you love me. But I didn't call you to have you boost my ego. I thought perhaps you'd like to know something about your friend Boston Blackie. I know all I want to know about him. Oh, but you don't, Inspector. You don't. You've always wanted to send Blackie to the same iron covered cottage you have for me. But you've never been able to prove anything against him. I will someday. Really? Well, Inspector, there. This is that day. Yeah. What are you talking about? Blackie and what he's going to do tonight. He's going to steal the Abbot painting from the city art gallery. He's what? You heard me, Faraday. Yes, I heard you, but I don't believe you. I'm not asking you to believe me. I just wanted you to know that the painting was to be stolen, and yet you couldn't keep Blackie from getting it. Have a pleasant night, Inspector. Listen, Rice, I. Hang up. Now, wasn't that sort of a surprise, Inspector? Are you still here, Alan? Yeah, it was a big surprise. And guess what he wanted. What? To tell me Blackie is trying to steal the Abbott painting from the city art gallery tonight. Trying to steal the Abbot. Get that, Rollins? Christ thinks I'm dumb enough to fall for that. Yeah, you'd have to be dumb to fall for it. Not even Blackie could break into the city gallery, much less break out of it with the Abbot painting. Not even Blackie. Why, that painting is. That painting is so heavily guarded that. So heavily guarded, Ron. And stop laughing and get me a squad Car if like he's going to steal the Abbot. What are we laughing about now, Inspector Faraday? The gallery isn't closed. We're open till 9 tonight. I see, Mr. Lawrence. Then you still have your regular number of guards on duty? Oh, yes, of course, of course. Even though there are few people in the gallery this late, It's. It's almost closing time and nothing's missing. Well, believe me, this place wouldn't be so quiet if anything were missing. Much less the Abbot painting you thought was going to be stolen tonight. I didn't think it was going to be stolen, Mr. Lawrence. I just heard a rumor that somebody was after it and I came down to get a check. Just routine. Well, I. I certainly appreciate your interest in my gallery, Inspector. Oh, may I show you around? No, thanks. I have to get back to headquarters. Sorry if I had you worried about your Abbot painting, Mr. Lawrence. Oh, I don't ever worry about it, Inspector. It's the most heavily guarded painting in my gallery. Why, even. Not even. Well, what was that? Sounds like someone broke a window on the front part of the gallery. Yes, and there was a scream in that gallery there, too. Come on, I think we better have a look over there. Yes, I think we'd better. Here. What happened here? What happened? I don't know, Mr. Lawrence. I just stand in here and all of a sudden the window behind me broke. Someone must have thrown a stone in from the outside. No, sir. Nothing fell in here. I'd say someone in here threw something out the window. Well, did you see anyone throw anything? No, sir. None of these people here threw anything. Must have been thrown by someone standing where I couldn't see them, sir. Mr. Lawrence. Mr. Lawrence. Here comes another one of your guards, Mr. Lawrence. Yes, yes, and from the Abbott Gallery, too. Mr. Lawrence. Mr. LAWRENCE. All of a sudden the lights went out. When I turned them on, the Abbot painting was missing. Well, turn in the alarm quickly. Tom's gone to turn it on already. Well, throw the switch that locks the doors and the window shutters. All taken care of, Mr. Lawrence. Yeah, yeah. There goes the alarm. Oh, dear. The Abbot's stolen. I. I can't believe it. I can. Mr. Lawrence, round up everybody in the place. Don't let anybody out. I want to question everybody, even though I know the guy who stole your painting. All right, Blackie. I've questioned and searched everybody in the place, including you, and no one has the painting. Where is it? You did the questioning and the searching. You tell me where it is. That painting's been cut out of Its frame. You cut it out and got rid of it. Now, how did you get it out of here? The painting is missing. You know very well it is because you saw it. You can prove that, of course. No, I can't prove it. But you're here. I got a tip you'd steal it. And the painting is missing. That's all I need to know. Oh, no, Paraday. You also need to know where the painting is. And until you know that, you can't say I. All right, all right. I can't say you stole it, but I can think it. You can what? Think. You can think it. Pardon? You couldn't think your way out of a revolving door. Tell me something. There was a commotion in the other end of the gallery just before the painting was stolen. What was that? Oh, somebody threw something out of a window. The painting, maybe? No, it was just a stone. I thought maybe it had the painting wrapped around it or something. But a cop on the street saw it fall. That was just a stone? You're sure? Yeah. That was part of the thief's scheme to create a commotion in another part of the gallery so he could come in here, turn out the light and grab the Abbot. Oh, yes, very clever idea. It was your idea and I know it. But can you prove it? No, I can't prove it. Then of course I can go. Yes, you can go. But when I find that painting, Blackie, your friends will find you in jail. Oh, good morning, Mary. Come on in. You better let me come in. Have you seen the morning paper? No. What have I done now? You've stolen the Abbot painting. Oh, that's not news. That's old stuff. I did that last night. Yes, but how did you do it, Blackie? The way it was guarded, with even Inspector Faraday there. Oh, just genius, that's all. Just sort of. There's a phone call for you, genius. Thanks. Hello? Good morning, Blackie. This is Henry Rice. Oh, Henry. Good morning. Yes, isn't it, though? And I see the papers where you had a good night. Oh, fair. You got the Abbot, Blackie. How did you do it? How did you do the impossible? It wasn't easy, Rice. I just made it look that way. And now, back to Boston. Blackie. Blackie's friend Shorty is being framed for the murder of a man named Ashley. Gang leader Henry Rice, who hates both Blackie and Shorty, has the phonied evidence against Shorty. And in order to get it, Blackie promises to steal the valuable and heavily guarded Abbot painting. The morning papers announce that the Painting has been stolen. And as we return to our story, Blackie is asking Henry Rice to keep his part of the bargain. All right, Rice. I stole the painting for you. Where's the cigarette lighter with Shorty's fingerprints on it? Where's the painting, Blackie? I'll deliver it. I'll surrender the lighter on delivery of the painting. Oh, no. I don't trust you. You crossed me. You tipped off Faraday that I was going to steal the Abbot. But I got the painting for you just the same. Give me the lighter and I'll deliver the painting. Fair enough. Here it is. Thanks. Now, when do I get the painting? In a little while. But tell me something. Why did you call Faraday and tell him I was going to steal the Abbot if you wanted the painting so much? To tell you the truth, Blackie, much as I wanted that abbot, I didn't much care whether you got the painting or Faraday got you. No, no. You see, it's hard for me to decide which I do most like that painting or dislike you. Faraday speaking. Hello, Inspector. This is your old pal Blackie. Listen, you. I don't want to talk to you until you're ready to tell me what you did with that painting. And then I'm going to talk to you through bars. You mean they're putting you in a cage? I'll cage you, Blankie. What do you want? I want you to meet me at the City Art Gallery so I can give you the Abbot painting. I wanted you in on this, too, Mr. Lawrence, in case Blankie is just pulling another fast one. I. I don't know too much about pictures. Well, I'm glad you called me in, Inspector Faraday. The Abbot was stolen from this room. Oh, Blackie, how did you do it? And where is the Abbot now? One thing at a time, Mr. Lawrence. You can see how I stole the painting. There's the frame for it. Still there on the wall. Empty. Yes. You cut the picture out of its frame, that's obvious. But when? How did you do it without anyone seeing you? Well, that was the easiest part of it. I waited until there was no one here, then caused that commotion outside while everybody was in the front hall of the gallery. You had time enough to cut the Abbot out of its frame, roll it up and take it away? Yes, but not very far. Come on. The Abbot's in the next room, taped to the back of another picture. Oh, thank heavens, man. I thought we'd seen the last of the Abbot forever. Where? Which picture? Right there. The painting of the Two children. Oh. Hey, it's gone. Was hanging there last night. Blackie, we sold that painting out a half hour ago. What? Yes, yes, to a man named Smith. Smith from Kansas City. Smith from Kansas City, huh? I know who that is, all right. An old friend of mine. See you fellas later. Oh, no, Blackie. You're not going anywhere. This is another one of your tricks you're coming to. Not to jail, Faraday. At least not with this gun in my hand. A gun? Oh, good heavens. Why, good heavens, Mr. Lawrence. Ah. Goodbye. Hello, Mary, this is Blackie. Oh, hello, Blackie. Did you give the painting back to Inspector Faraday the way you promised? I tried to, Mary, but I couldn't. It's gone. Gone? Sold to a man named Smith from Kansas City for $250. Oh, Blackie. No, no is right, Mary. I think I know who has it, and it's not John Smith, and he's not from Kansas City. All right, who has it? A man who seems to like to play tag. And, Mary, if you don't mind, I'd like you to get into the game. I don't see any reason for this call of yours, Blackie. As you can see, I am Smith of Kansas City, and I have what I want. You mean you're Henry Rice of New York and you think you have what you want? Oh, then what is that painting hanging on the wall behind my desk? Two very lovely children. Recognize it? Yes. That's the painting I taped the abbot to. Surprised? Frankly, I am. I didn't think you were smart enough to figure out how I'd steal it. But I was smart enough, wasn't I? I arrived at your method of stealing it by the simple process of elimination, my dear Blackie. You see, it couldn't be taken out of the gallery. And so when I heard it was missing, I knew it must still be in the gallery. And so I looked, and so I found it. Oh, fine. Is the abbot still taped to the back of that painting on your wall? Not quite. You'll never find the abbot, I can assure you. Even if I did find it, Rice, I wouldn't be finding the Abbot. No, no. If you knew anything about art at all, you'd know the painting I stole for you is a phony. I don't believe it. Look at it closely and you'll see. Come on, we'll look at it together and I'll prove it to you. No, no, no, no, Blackie. You can be more clever than that, really. I can look at the painting myself and tell whether or Not. It's authentic. Then go ahead, look at it. And have you followed me to it? Oh, no, no, no, no. Then you're going to spend the rest of your days with a phony painting. But that's not my worry. You know, Blackie, you've aroused my curiosity. I hate to think I've been cheated, but I think you'd better stay here while I go look at it, if you don't mind. I do mind. What was the buzzer for? You'll see. Turn around and look at the reason for the buzzer. Come in, Max. Yeah, boy, sure. Whew. Where did you find a guy this big in the redwood forest? Rather overgrown youngster, isn't he? Max, I have to run out a minute. Do you think you could persuade this fellow to remain here and quietly until I return? Sure, boss. I got a friend here in my pocket. Could convince him like this. Some convincer, huh, boss? That's good work, Max. That should keep him asleep for a little while. I'll be back in a few minutes. Hey, hey, you know something, boss? Watch. I like to hit guys on the head. It does something to me. Oh, you come too now, huh? Good. I'll let you get up, and then I'll hit you again with my blackjack. Oh, hi, boss. You're back, huh? Yeah. Hi. Hello, Bryce. You see the painting? Yes, and it's authentic. All right. Never mind. You wouldn't understand, Max. Blackie, your trick, alas, didn't work. Well, you can't blame a guy for trying, can you? No. You'll never find the Abbot, Blackie. You know I've outsmarted you at every turn. I feel rather good about that. I'll get that painting back. You'll never even see it again. Now, don't you envy me, Blackie? I have the Abbot painting. I'm free and clear of any suspicion. But the police are looking for you. And you don't even know where I've hidden the painting. Well, now, I think you've done everything you can for me, Blackie. You may go now. Well, thanks for something anyway. No hard feelings, Blackie. Here, I'll make amends by taking you to the top of the steps. Well, here we are, Blackie. Just one flight down and you're in the street. And I suppose you think out on my feet, too. I trust not. You'll need to be rather nimble to sidestep the police. Don't forget, they're looking for you. Thanks for the warning. Don't mention it, Lucky. Good girl, Mary. You're here. Right on time. Did everything work all right? Perfectly. I did just what you told me on the phone. I waited outside Rice's office door. Then I followed him down the steps. And from then on, I didn't let him out of my sight till he went into another building. But where's the abbot? You show me the building Rice went into, and I'll show you the abbot. This is the door he went into when you followed him. Mary. Yes, Blackie? This is a warehouse. But Warehouse. A palace. This is where Rice hid the Abbot. Yeah, but it's such a big warehouse. We'll find it. Come on, let's go in. Say, the door's unlocked. That's good. No, that's bad. Means there's probably a guard around here somewhere. Sh. Well, this seems to be nothing but an anteroom. There's another door there. Should we try that one? Come on. But quietly. Don't worry. No. Shh. I hear footsteps. Yes, and I see the man who's making them. Oh. Oh. I see something else too. This is a gambling casino. It's empty now, but Rice must use this place every night. Uh huh. And here comes Mr. Footsteps. We'll have to take care of him before we do anything else. I hope he isn't as big as that match you were telling me about. No, he isn't. But he's got a gun. Be quiet, or we'll be telling the angels about him. You're so right. Sh. Here he comes. Hey, you. Thanks for turning your chin. Why, Blackie, you hit him only once. You're selfish. Not even a second sock for me. Mary, I would gladly trade that second sock for a second sight. That would help me find the Abbot. Oh. Any luck in finding the painting over there, Blackie? Oh, Mary, I may find it under this table top. Well, I have torn things apart till I'm exhausted. It's the last place I'm gonna look. Well, look over the old places again. We may have missed something. Oh, dear. Well, it's not here. I'm gonna rest a minute. I'll rest in a minute. Not here. I'll try this over here. Maybe under this table. Nope, Nothing here. I'll try over there. Mind if I play a little roulette while you look? No, go ahead. I love roulette when it's for fun. I love looking for things when I can find them. Uh oh. Red and even. The situation here is black and odd. Oh, gosh. I guess Rice has us fooled completely. Oh, no, Blackie. You'll find it. Want to Quit for a while and play a little roulette. No stranger. No. Don't start thinking again. I'm sure if Rice came here. The painting is in here, red and even. Let's see where the little ball stops this time. I wish it would stop on the painting. If I. That's it. What? Stand back, Mary. That roulette wheel is turned for the last time. What are you going to do? Take that table leg here and smash the roulette wheel. Oh, golly. In a million pieces. And I was just about to spend it and make a fortune. Mary, we found a fortune. Look under what's left of the wheel well. Looks like a roll of canvas. Here. Look at it. When I take it out and unroll it. Look, the painting. Yes, the painting, Mary. And suddenly the whole picture is changed. Well, Blankie? So you went to all the trouble of stealing the Abbot just because of Shorty's lighter? Yes. Now Shorty has his lighter and the art gallery has its abbot. And everybody is happy, I suppose. Well, I'm not happy. Why didn't you tell me Rice was framing Shorty and let me get that lighter from him? Because by the time you'd have cleared Shorty, he'd have been sent to the electric chair. Shorty was innocent. Of course he was. But you're unhappy because I didn't let you help clear Shorty. I'm unhappy because Henry Rice was the cause of all this and he's going free. Oh, no, he isn't. You've arrested him. What for running a gambling joint? No, we couldn't prove that. But the DA has a great case against him, Blackie. And all because Rice made you steal that painting. But you can't say Rice stole the painting. I did. Yes, you stole it, Blackie. But who got it after you stole it? Rice did. Oh, I'm beginning to see a little flaw in Rice's master plan. And what a flawless. You didn't actually steal the abbot. Technically, all you did was move it from one room to another. So that clears you. I'm sorry to say, but the painting was taken out of the gallery. So Rice goes to jail for receiving stolen property. Good work, Faraday. This all started with Shorty's cigarette lighter. But it looks like Rice met his match. My name's Regan. I work for Anthony J. Lyon, Detective Bureau. They call me the Lion's Eye. Jeff Regan, investigator. Starring Frank Graham as Regan. With Frank Nelson as Anthony J. Lyon. So stand by for mystery and suspense and adventure in tonight's story of the Barefoot Boy with Shoes gone. There were three women in it. Three guys and seven cats. It figured for an easy trace job. All I had to do was find a missing guy named Thaddeus Mink, a painter. Only before it was over, a couple of people turned up dead. And what made me think maybe I was training a killer with a screw loose was what happened to those seven cats. The thing teed off for me when a letter came to the Lyon Detective Bureau in the morning mail. My boss, the lion, opened it. You could see the dollar signs in his eyes. Hey, Jeffrey. Well, well, look here. That rich uncle of yours finally kick off? What do you mean? You look so happy. No, it's not that, Jeffrey. Listen to this. The Ezra Park Duffield Art Gallery's Pasadena. From the sanctum of E.P. duffield. Already? I don't like it. Oh, now, now, now, now, Jeffrey. Mr. Duffield encloses his personal check for $50. For which we do what? Yes. Well, now, let me see. No, we find a missing person, Jeffrey. A man by the name of Mink, Thaddeus Mink, a painter. Mr. Duffield says we'll be doing an inestimable service to the world of art. Duffield say why he doesn't go to the cops? Well, he does mention that he has personal reasons for maintaining secrecy. They all say. What do you mean by that? Listen, lion, the LA police look for missing persons. Free guy doesn't want the free service. He's got a reason. Maybe he wants a finger man. Maybe it's a stakeout. Jeffrey, do you think that if I thought. Sure I do. You don't mean that? I mean it only. Count me out. I don't risk my private op license for 50 bucks. See ya. Now, wait a minute. Mr. Duffield says in his letter he's coming here to the office himself this morning. Well, you see him, fatso? I got a short thirst. Jeffrey, I'll be in Dugan's place on Hill street if anything good turns up. You mean you won't take the case? You take it. All right, Jeffrey, I will. Well, that ought to be Duffield now. I'll let him in. And me out. How do you do? Are you Mr. Lyon? I'm Regan. That's Lyon behind the desk. I see. I'm Ep Duffield. Yeah, come in. Thank you. Mr. Regan. Ms. Duffield. Come in, come in. Shall I sit here, Mr. Lyman? Yes. Well, run along, Jeffrey. I'm taking this case. Remember, you're waiting in Dugan's place on Hill street until something good turns out. Yeah, that's Right. See you. I went to Dugan's. Sat looking into it. What I kept seeing was E.P. duffield. Red hair, gray. Green eyes. Tall, about 5 11. But not too much of her. Just enough. Any place you looked, I looked up and I was still seeing E.P. duffield. That's because she was there. Mind if I Sit down, Mr. Regan? Bar's public. Thanks. What'll the lady have? Nothing. Thank you. Lyon didn't take your case? Well, he said you were the operative. So. Mr. Regan, I have an art gallery. Ezra Park. Duffield Galleries, Pasadena. He was my father. I'm Esther. Patricia Duffield. You wrote a letter. Said you wanted somebody to find a missing person. Painter named Thaddeus Mink. That's right. You didn't go to the cops? Why? Cops trace missing persons free. Well, but you see, Mr. Regan, I couldn't. They wouldn't help me. Give me more. I've never seen Thaddeus Mink. I don't know what he looks like. Keep on. It's true, you see, he's a painter. He sent me a number of paintings by express, but I haven't been able to locate him. I've tried, but. Mr. Regan, if you'd come to the gallery and see his pictures, I think you'd understand. Will you come? You put up a 50 buck retainer, lady. You want me to look at pictures for 50 bucks? I look in here, Jeff. With you, lady. The mink paintings are here in my office. There they are. Cats. Yes, cats. And look how he paints them. How evil he makes them. Yeah, I see what you mean. Catphobia, Jeff. Sometimes an artist becomes great through passionate love. And sometimes through passionate hate. And Mink hates cats, is that it? It's made him a great painter. Is that why you want me to find him? I have just these few canvases. I want more. They'll be worth thousands of dollars. You paint those circus pictures, too? No, no. I did you. A few years ago I traveled with the circus, but my paintings aren't much good. Mink ever paint anything except cats? One picture. It here. I have all his pictures. But you've never seen him. I told you, we sent them express. I tried to trace him, but I couldn't find him. All I have are the paintings. These are the cats and the one other. All signed the same way. Not with his name, but with the print of a cat's paw painted in one corner. Where's the other one? Over here. I keep it draped. It frightens me. Look, a woman. You see, Jeff, he's painted her back. As she stands at the mirror, fixing her hair. The back of an ordinary woman. But in the mirror, her face, the eyes are of a cat. And the way her fingers curl and hook into her hair like cat's claws. Yeah. Well, maybe she's something we can go on. What do you mean? Well, maybe somebody else has painted it too. Maybe she's registered as a model. We find her, maybe we get a line on Mink. Might work. I found her photo in an agency. Mrs. Margaret Ames lived in Hollywood. I drove out there. Only when I got there, I rang the doorbell. I got a big surprise. Sergeant Bowles of the Hollywood Division, LA Police. Opened the door. Regan. What do you want? Came to see Mrs. Margaret Ames. Yeah, it figured see a client of yours. You do a lousy job, Regan. A lousy job. There'll be a law against you private guys. Always getting people killed. She got strangled, Regan. It killed her. Mind if I look? Come on. Thanks. Like I say, the deceased a client of yours? Nope. You know her? Nope. A lot of good you're gonna give us. There she is. Sort of surprised look on her face. Maybe she hadn't planned to get strangled this morning. Oh, could be. Neighbor lady phoned us up. She come in to borrow coffee. That's what she found. Scared the hairpiece off of her. She said Mrs. Ames live alone. Divorced, lives alone. We got nothing, Regan. Nothing. And so the police haven't aligned at all on who might have killed Margaret Ames. Jeffrey. No, no. Here, let me check the late edition. H. Oh, yes, yes. Yeah, yeah. Here you, my boy, you think they may have turned up something by now, huh? Well, Sergeant, Bulls wouldn't inform me if they had. No. No, I suppose not. Jeffrey, here's an interesting item in the second section of the paper. Well, it says that in a place called Mountain Crest on the mountains near Los Angeles, somebody's been putting out poison meat. Yeah, but here's the strange thing. The pieces of meat have been tied up in trees, huh? Yes. And several cats have been poisoned. Hey, wait a second. Poison meat up in trees? That could be it. It could be what, Jeffrey? Maybe the poisoner ties the meat in trees so dogs won't get it. Only cats. Why Lion? Well, I don't know, Jeffrey. Maybe because he hates cats. Jeffrey, you mean that. That cat painter, Mr. Mink? It's worth a try. Mountain Crest, you said? Yes. We'll keep in touch with the Margaret Ames murder. Lion, I'm going to Mountain Crest. It was only a couple of hour drive, but I got started late and it was dark. When I got there, cold up there, Snow. Above the 4,000 foot level. Mountain crest was half a dozen houses. Abandoned lumber mill and mountain crest Haven. A rundown auto court with a gas pump and cafe. I pulled in and stopped at the gas pump. All right, all right, I'm coming. Sorry to keep you waiting, but we didn't expect no customer up here mean night like this. You run this place? Oh, gosh, no. I work here. I'm Jimmy. Everybody around here knows me. That is, everybody there is around here. Some gas, mister? What? It'll hold. Hey, you want to go inside and warm up, have a cup of coffee while I fill her up? Yeah, it's a good idea. Bunny will serve you. Bunny? As you come up here a couple of weeks ago. She's the waitress. Ah, your girlfriend. No. No, she ain't. I went inside. Maybe I saw why Jimmy's face clouded up when I asked him if Bunny was his girlfriend. Bunny was behind the counter. Ordinary, pretty kid, corn yellow hair, about maybe 19. But on a counter stool, talking to her was a slick looking guy, 25, thin faced, pinstripe suit. I walked over slow. What are you hot for? You got no right to, Buddy and I. Buddy, listen, you can't talk to me like that. Art Jones. Oh, no. You think you want something? I could use coffee, Bunny. How do you know my name? Jimmy told me. I'll see you later, Bunny. Bill collector. Him? That's Art Jones. He's in one of the cabins. You like the cold weather. He doesn't know what he likes. Cream or black, Mr. Black. He didn't look like your type, Bunny. He takes me places. Dancing out of Anaheim. Sure. Here's your coffee. Anything else? No, not at all. Why don't you go with Jimmy? He hasn't got a car. Yeah, but the next time I will. I don't know where Art gets off. Just because Mr. Mink gave me a. Mink? Yes, he gave me a painting. He's a painter. But that's no reason for art to get sore. Why, Mr. Mink is old. He must be 35. Yeah. Oh. You live around here, Mink? In a cabin up on Lime Peak. Far from him. Couple of miles. You live alone? Mm. He's. He's sort of funny. I think he's scared of people. But I guess he likes me. You know him, mister? By reputation. He's a very sweet man. What? I hear he gave you a painting of a cat, huh? Yes, he did. Cat's paw painted in a corner. Yes, it was a picture of a dead cat. A dead cat. Read in the paper some cats got poison around here lately. Around Mountain Crest. Seven of them. The courtier Mink might have done it. Oh, no. He loves cats. He loves them now, what I heard, I heard he hates them. I phoned the lion and told him what I had. He had something for me. Cops had traced the strangled woman mink had painted. Mrs. Margaret Ames. Maiden name was Margaret Mink. She had a brother someplace. Cops said his name was Thaddeus. Next call I made was to Pasadena. Hello. EP Duffel speaking. Hello, Esther. Jeff Regan. Oh, hello, Jeff. Located your painter, baby. Thaddeus Mink. You have? Yeah. In a cabin up here in the mountains. I'm near there now. Where are you? Place called Mountain Crest. Mink's cabins, up a couple of miles from here. Well, that. That's fine. Jeff. Jeff. I want to see him first myself. He's very queer and temperamental. I'm sorry, baby. I've got to go up there first thing in the morning. Minx may be mixed up in a murder. I rented one of the cabins of Mountain Crest Haven. Got in bed and read some Edgar Allan Poe to quiet my nerves. About 6 the next morning, the wind dropped. Wind had brushed everything white, still smooth. I started for Mink's cabin on Lime Peak about eight. Bunny, one with me. There it is. Yeah. Smoke through the pines. That's from his cabin. We're almost there. Hey, hold us. What, Jack? Footprints in the snow. Coming from that way. From the highway. There's a shortcut that way to the road where it goes over the summit. Man's footprints must have been made this morning since the wind dropped or they'd have been covered over. Oh, come on. Wait a minute. What is it? Over there. Same footprints going back toward the highway. Running steps are longer and the snow is kicked between them. Yes. Come on. Maybe something's happened. We ran for the cabin. It stood in the pines in front of a shelf of rock. The footprints led to the door. Then running away from the door again and toward the highway. They went in the other tracks. The cabin door stuck, but it was unlocked. It always sticks there. Mr. Mink. Mr. Mink. Come on. Oh, it wasn't Mink. It was a thin faced, slick looker in a pinstripe suit and in his stocking feet, art Jones, strangled. 5 foot 11 of beautiful red headed dame. E.P. duffield. Duffield art Gallery's Pasadena. Hired me to find a missing cat painter, name of Mink. First track I got led to his sister. But that was a dead end. Somebody'd strangled her. Then it went up in the mountains. Somebody poisoned seven cats at a place called Mountain Crest. Maybe Mink. Yeah, Mink lived up there. Only when I got to his cabin, there was a corpse on the floor. Art Jones, Bunny's pal. In the pinstripe suit. Strangled. No shoes on. I searched the cabin. Not a shoe in the joint. Half an hour later, Bunny and I got back down to Mountain Crest Haven. The combination gas station autocourt where she worked as a waitress. This is better. Mm. I'd better get you some hot coffee. You're not used to the coffee after I phone the sheriff. Where's the nearest place? I got one? Meridian Township. Yeah, I'll be back for the coffee. Jeff. Yeah. Jeff, Mr. Mink couldn't have killed Art. Funny. Art Jones went up to Mink's cabin this morning. You and Art were quarreling about Mink last night. Art was jealous. Art was crazy to think that Mr. Mink maybe. But he went up there. We saw his footprints going in through the snow. The ones that came back out were made by the same shoes. I checked that. But Art Jones didn't make them. No, No, I know. The killer took Jones shoes after he strangled him and wore them when he left. So he wouldn't make tracks with his own shoes. Mr. Mink didn't do that. Well, there weren't any other tracks, Bunny. One pair of footsteps in, one pair of footsteps out. Jones in to see Mink? Tell him to lay off seeing you, probably. Who out? I'll get you some hot coffee. Sorry, kid. So that was it. Case just about wrapped up. Mink must have strangled Jones. Jones was strangled just like Mink's sister. If there weren't any other tracks in the snow, it didn't make sense anybody else had been there. I phoned the sheriff at Meridian Township. Took five or six minutes to get him on the phone. His name was Lyle. Sheriff Jasper Lyle. What can I do for you? My name's Regan, private investigator from Los Angeles. Yeah, you better put out a description on Thaddeus Mink, sheriff. I can give details short about 35 years. That's out already, huh? Out already. Mink. Wanted for questioning, homicide, la connections. Free of his sister, Market McGames. Oh, yeah, that's right. On the wires at 4 yesterday. Don't think he did it, though. Don't seem the kind. Sitting right here beside me in the office. Give me that again. You got Mink there in your office? Yeah. We ain't got cells, Bob. Ain't big time, you know, like you folks down yeah, yeah, yeah. Sheriff, tell me one thing. When did you pick Mink up? Yesterday. He'd picked mink up four hours after the wanted was sent out. By LA. 8:00 last night, Mink was in the Meridian General Store buying cat food. Yeah. And he told the sheriff a sad story. He loved cats. Loved them? Had four. But they'd come down with something, suffered. Ming had had to put them out of their misery. When he found out they'd passed the disease around Mountain Crest, he put poison up in the trees to save the cats of the town the misery his cats had suffered. He'd bought a new cat, though. That's why he's buying cat food. So that made everything fine. Case all wrapped up. Yeah. Like a hot rod around a telephone. Po. Sugar. Jeff. Jeff. Hmm? Oh. Oh, yeah. Thanks. Here. Thanks anyway. I'm glad it wasn't Mr. Mink. Yeah. Mink didn't strangle Jones. Couldn't have. Sheriff had him. Well, I'm glad Jones went up to the cabin to see Mink. Sorry about Mink giving you the painting. That part still holds. Made tracks in the snow. Didn't walk back out. Got strangled. But his shoes walked out. Somebody in him. You think Bunny? Not Mink, not Jones. Somebody with a motive to kill Jones. Hmm. You didn't like him. I did. You, Art Jones. You went with him because he took your places. Only maybe you didn't feel good about it. He wasn't your type, I guess he wasn't. He wasn't. And then he began to crowd you. Mink business, for instance. You figured he didn't have any right to butt into your life. Well, that's true. But what about Jimmy? Jimmy? Yeah. The kid that works around here. More your style. You seem like a nice kid. He is. Yeah. Only R. Jones got it between you. What are you thinking? I'll tell you what I'm thinking. I'm thinking somebody must have been in Mink's cabin when Jones got there this morning. Somebody had gone in before the wind dropped, so the tracks covered over. Somebody that would have killed Jones. And you think sleep in one of the cottages here at the outer court? Yes. Sleepwalk, maybe. Jeff, I don't like you, baby. The sheriff will be getting up to Mink cabin in the next 10 minutes on my say so. Half an hour later, this joint here is going to be jumping. Only not with customers, with cops, deputies asking questions. Now, let's get ahead of them, huh? Well, I didn't kill Art, if that's what you want to know. I know you didn't. What? Well, then you couldn't have. You couldn't have done the job. Strangled him. Strangling is not a girl sized job. Well, then why did you ask me all those questions? To get answers, baby. About you and our Jones and Jimmy. Jimmy? Yeah. Only two people had a motive to kill Jones. You and Jimmy. Look on her face said she was scared, but that might be it. Jimmy liked her. Didn't like Jones. I started to look for Jimmy. What he was doing when I found him didn't help. He was stealing my car. Hey. Hey. Get out of that car. Jimmy. Jimmy. Get out of that car. You won't get away. Come here. Help me. Come out. All right, this will hold you. What are you trying to do? Come here. Let me go. I got an arm lock on him. All of a sudden he quit. Fear had worked two ways on him. Made him fight. Made him quit. You better talk, Jimmy, like fast, huh? Wait till I shut off the motor. We'll go inside out of the cold. And then I want answers. What I saw in the seat of my car when I reached in to shut off the motor, stopped me. A pair of shoes. Art Jones shoes. Still wet from being in the snow. I took Jimmy into the cafe, sat him on a stool. Bunny came in. Jimmy. Jimmy, what did you do? I didn't do anything. You tried to steal my car. He stole the keys out of my cottage. You'd have gotten away if the motor hadn't been cold. Jimmy. Jimmy, why did you want to steal my car? Because I, I had to get away. Because you killed our Jones. No, I, I, I didn't kill him. I, I. Go on, kid, get it out. I, I had to get away. I had. Jeff, please keep out of it. Bunny. You think a lot of Bunny, Jimmy? Well, I, Yes, I do. You didn't like Jones. No, I didn't. Where'd you get his shoes? I found them. Yeah. In the snow by the highway. Look, the sheriff will want a better story than that. You'd better practice up on me. Well, I, I got up early. Sleep here someplace. I've got a room in the kitchen. Go on. I went up the highway a ways. I was trying to think. Well, because of Art Jones and Bunny, I didn't think I had any chance with her, I guess. But then I saw the shoes in the snow by the highway. I brought him back. Anybody see you coming or going? Why, yes, yes, yes. They were scraping the road. There's where I found the shoes. I checked Jimmy's story and it was okay. He had A snowplow crew of witnesses. So that made it great. Two people had a motive to murder Jones. Jimmy and Bunny. Bunny couldn't strangle Jones, and Jimmy didn't. Well, if nobody with a motive to murder Jones had murdered him, then it had to be this way. Somebody without a motive to murder him had. I walked back up to the cabin where Jones was strangled. Sheriff Lyle and his deputies had been and gone. They'd made tracks in the snow. But then I saw some tracks they hadn't made. They were the paw marks of Thaddeus Mink's new cat. I asked myself where I had seen cats paw marks before. That gave me the answer. I went back down to Mountain Crest Haven and made a phone call. I got the right answer. That left me just one place to go. It took a while to get there. Yes? This is a surprise painting. Oh. Just touching up this still life been better. Lady, if you just stayed. E.P. duffield, art dealer. You mean because I paint so badly? It's part of it. You're more the outdoor type. Tall, strong. I suppose that's so. Those circus paintings over there you painted, you showed me yesterday. Yes. You were in the circus. Strong enough for that. Jeff, just what are you trying to get at? Not trying. I've got. I phoned the model agency from Mountain Crest a little while ago. Model agency? Where? I got the track on Margaret Ames. Mink. Mink's sister that got strangled. You'd gotten her address a couple of hours before she was murdered. That doesn't mean anything. You wanted to be a great painter, yes? Yeah, but, honey, you didn't have the stuff. What happens? Thaddeus Mink sends you his paintings. He is a great painter. Go on, Jeff. Sure. Mink didn't sign his name to his paintings. Painted on a cat's paw print instead. So Mink was a shy guy. He found out nobody knew him. Nobody knew he'd painted the great paintings of his. You had. Except his sister. She'd posed for one. You killed her and Jeff, and that left Mink him dead. You'd be the genius that painted the pictures. Yes. Well, he is dead, Jeff, and I am. You went up to Mink's cabin after I talked to you on the phone last night. Nobody home. But you waited. Guy came in early this morning, you strangled him. Wore his shoes to walk out. I said, Mink's dead. Uh, Mink's not dead. You've never seen Mink. And you strangled the wrong guy. A guy named Jones. Jones, not Smith. Jeff, I'm not a Fool. You're lying to save your skin. My skin? Your skin. Hasn't it occurred to you that there's somebody else who knows who painted the cat pictures? Hey, you mean Regan that was in it from the first. Jeff. Jeff. Bursting in like this into my office, perhaps trying to make love to me. You shouldn't have done it. Not when I happened to be armed. Put that gun down. Oh, no. Jeff. There, now, stay still. Go. Esther. You should stick to strangling. It's more accurate. Next day, I gave the lion a little lecture on art. Very well, very well. Very well. Jeffrey, you seem to have become quite an authority on art. But I'm afraid I'm a little more interested in art. Jones. Oh, great. You went back up to Mountain Crest, I suppose. Yep. That nice young boy, Jimmy, how are he? And that girl Bunny. Say, Jeffrey, why did he try to steal your car and run away? Well, only he and Bunny had a motive to kill Jones. Jimmy found the shoes, then overheard my call to Sheriff Lyle. He knew he hadn't killed Joan. So you mean he suspected? Well, he was scared. All he could think was to get those shoes far away. He knew there was strong evidence E.P. duffield had tossed them out of her car. But he didn't know that. He thought that Bunny. Oh, I can't believe that. He was in love. That mixes you up. Yes. Yes, it does. Only Bunny hadn't done it. Jimmy hadn't either. If the two people who had reason to kill Jones hadn't killed him, it added that Jones was killed by mistake. Yes, I see that. In Mink's cabin. So it made sense. The killer meant to kill Mink, only he didn't know what Mink looked like. Only one person fitted that. E.P. duffield. Why, that's brilliant, my boy. Brilliant. But what about Thaddeus Mink? Mink? Oh, Sheriff Lyle released him. And when he found out how much dough his paintings are gonna bring him, he turned philanthropist. He did? Yeah. Gave us a present. What? Right outside the door. Oh, Jeffrey. Maybe one of his valuable paintings worth thousands of dollars. Yeah. Yeah, it could be. Could be worth that much. Big enough box? You open it? Oh, yes, yes. Oh, Jeffrey. Jeffrey, do you think it. Oh, Jeffrey. Jeff Regan, Investigator is written by William Frug and William Fifield produced and directed by Sterling Tracy and stars Frank Graham as Regan with Frank Nelson as Anthony J. Lyon. Original music by Dick Around. Jeff Regan, Investigator, will be back next week at the same time. The Adventures of the Saint starring Vincent Price. The Saint based on characters created by Leslie Charteris and Known to millions from books, magazines and motion pictures, the Robin Hood of modern crime now comes transcribed to radio starring Hollywood's brilliant and talented actor Vincent Price as the Saint. Just a moment, please. Yes, Mr. Tempera. Mr. Simon Tempera. And if I say yes? I am a George. Congratulations. What army are you dressed for? Oh, not army uniform. I wear, sir. Chauffeur. You come, huh? You come now. You want me to go somewhere with you? You are sure you are Missouri. Simon Tembra, the Saint. If I'm not my old grandmother shouldn't have lied to me all these years. Then you come. Where did you not receive the call, sir? Even the most casual eavesdropper would have to admit it doesn't appear so. What call? Employer say, George, go to this number and get Mr. Templer. Employer say he calls. So when I arrive, you know, you come. No call, sir. No call. Who is your employer? Mr. Orlando Button. Him old man, he very afraid. Orlando Button, art collector and Button galleries. Employer say much of trouble coming. You come help. What sort of trouble? We go now. Yes, you go now. Yes. My neck and I recently came to an understanding. Ha. Your neck, sir. My neck. I promised not to stick it out again until I at least knew why it was going to be chopped at. And it in turn agreed to be a little more tolerant of starched collars. I am going to bed. Oh, no. You are coming. You know, with one swift gesture, you have given me six good reasons why I should go with you. Or does that revolver hold eight bullets? You sure this is a home? Oh, yes. Home of my employer, Mr. Orando Button. Add a couple of ticket windows, scatter around a few timetables and get a easily pass for the home of the super Chief. Employer awaits you in the study. Mr. Tempera. You come as this way, please. Yes. Now, look, would it be too much to ask you to stop waving that gun under my nose? You come. I come. Now. You wait. I wait. Sir. Sir. Sir. Mr. Burton, I have brought Mr. Temporary, sir. Oh, yes. Thank you, George. I. I must have dozed off. Mr. Templer, it was good of you to come, but I not half as good as it was of George to bring me. He is very persuasive, Mr. Temper. I say no come. I invite him. At the point of a pistol, you no call him sir. No, no, I fell asleep. I. That will be all, George. Thank you. I'm sorry George had to resort to melodrama, Mr. Templer. I mean. Look, you'll forgive me. I'm sure it's all a mistake. What's all a mistake? This incident. I never should have sent for you. My nerves. I'm a victim of my own imagination. Remarkable, eh? Here you are trembling. Yet scarcely two minutes ago, according to you, you were in your study there napping. But what? There's fear in that trembling, Mr. Button. And on your face, too. You're scared witless. Scared people don't doze. Please, I beg of you, go at once. Forget that you've been here. That was a long ride across town with your chauffeur's gun in my ribs, sir. Long and unpleasant. But I didn't tell George to use a gun. I. We can talk in your study. No, you mustn't go in there. You. Oh, you. You shouldn't have done that. I tried to keep him out of here. I knew you didn't want him to see that. Why are you pointing that gun at me? What are you going to do? Mr. Tembra. Mr. Tembra. Oh, Mr. Templer. Here I am giving you brandy. Oh, that's good brandy. Wake me up some more. You are to being all right, sir. As soon as the canaries stop holding choir practice in my head. Oh, so sorry. I give too much brandy. Where's Mr. Button? He gone. Gone where? Oh, no. Seagull. I go to room. Time passes. I think maybe now. Employee want me to drive you home again. I come here to study, finding you on floor. Employer gone. Pictures gone. Pictures? What pictures? Ones that arrived today. Sailor bring crate. Oh. Well, what sort of pictures were they? Where is the Western picture? Same Western man look all alright to me, but they make Mr. Button very angry. Oh, and then he told you to fetch me. Oh, no, not right away. Shorter time later. After phone call. Phone call. Employer call number speak. You get information. Write something on a paper pad, then send me. Get you the pad. Where is it? On the desk. Here. I give it to you. Thank you. Nothing on it. Maybe he tear writing page off. George, look. Take your finger and dip it in the fireplace for me, will you? Keep it? Oh, too much brandy. Too much. Go on, go on. Now, please do as I say. Get some ashes on your hand. Ashes? Yes, in the fireplace. Oh. Oh, yes, sir. Fingers are all properly dirty with ashes. Now rub it on this page of the pad. Lightly, lightly, gently. Magic. Western magic known only to those few hardy adventurers who have dared to visit the forbidden city of Brooklyn. What will the coming forth on a pod? A picture of Anna May Wong Hori Makaru. Look. Now rub the ashes in a little harder. There. That's it what is the words? No Pikachu words that were on former page torn off. If Mr. Motto should ever need an assistant. That's enough now. Give it to me. S t I steer now. You know Mr. Steano, George not knowing. So Steano S T u Tuscany. The SS Tuscany. Oh, sounding like Steamboat. Second thought, maybe Mr. Motto to be your assistant. Goodbye, George. Oh, you go, I go, I call, you stay, you go find employer. Yeah. Why? Look, I like you, George, that's why. I don't want you to lose your job. So I. Oh, in the sir. Funny place to put a chair. Chair belong over here. Oh, Mr. Tempera, you say I am to losing job? Why, we have a quaint saying in this country, George. Chauffeur lose job if employer lose life. Who's that on deck? Who is it? Speak up. It's me if that means anything. Muller, huh? Hey, you're late. I expected you. Hey, what is this? You ain't Muller. Name's Templer. All right, so the name's Templar. What are you doing aboard my ship? Looking your customs man. You the captain? Third officer. Captain want to shore? I'm in charge. Look, fellow, you boys from customs already went over this vessel three times since we docked this morning. Three times, eh? It's the usual procedure, isn't it? Three times as usual. And each time so thorough the ship is practically dismantled. What goes, pal? Hey, you tell me. I don't know what you boys are looking for, mister, but I'll tell you here now, it ain't on board the Tuscany. This is an honest ship. Yeah, and I'm the captain of the Pinafore. You got a man named Steano on board? Look, Mr. Ste. Stieno's a good guy. One of the best men on this ship. He works hard, no complaints. He's loyal, efficient, a good all around man. That's Stiano. You know him? Pretty well. Know him? I'm him. Well, I'm glad to meet a good, loyal, efficient, uncomplaining all around man. You know a man named Button? No. You say Button. Button, like in what one is sometimes told to do with one's lip. Button like in Button Galleries. Button. Yeah, I know about his art gallery, that's all. What about it? We hauled cargo from this voyage. A crate we picked up in Genoa. That's in Italy. Yeah, a crate filled with paintings. Valuable and rare. I seen them paintings. If they're valuable, then we're both the captain of the Pinafore. Oh, bad, eh? All I can say is phooey. What Smog fails to do to the human eye. Looking at these pictures does. How many? Seven. They were sent ashore? Yeah. Look, all I know is we're loading cargo in Genoa. A guy comes on with this here crate. He gives me a song and dance about taking extra special care of this valuable light so it don't get banged around like cargo sometimes does. That's all he asked of you? Patent. Also to deliver it after it cleared through customs. Delivery? Where to? The guards consigned to Dr. Webber at the Button Art Galleries. To nobody else, he says, just this here Dr. Weber and I shall be handsomely rewarded. Well, where are you? I'll let you know when Miller gets back. Hope you find the art gallery still open. Well, I'll tell you right now, he didn't. No? Then what did he do with it? I'm inclined to think he brought it to the one man he shouldn't have brought it to. Orlando Button. Oh, and this guy in Italy says, make sure nobody gets it but this Dr. Weber. How about that for luck? A lousy mistake is going to cost me my handsome reward. You're getting it light, pal. That same mistake may cost Mr. Button his life. I lost Saint, huh? K. Sack. Yes, I wanted to make sure it was you. Just come off the ship. I'm kind of glad it's your sucker. Yeah, you know, I'm kind of glad to see you, too. Hate you. Let's see how good you are without the gun. You sucker. Don't worry about it. When I finish tearing it off, I promise you I'll give it back to you. Please. Come on. Now what ill wind brought you out of retirement, K. No temper. My kind of worker. When a guy says he's retired, he's either trying to kill the cops or K himself. You mean there's always another hoodlum who'd force you back into it, eh? Now, let's have some talk here. Look, let's go down first. Let loose the talk first. I got nothing. I'll loosen your tongue with a little history. When I first knew you, you worked for Scally as his trigger. Till he was deported a couple of years back. My, you're full of news. What do you want from who hired you to squeeze the trigger on me? Nobody has to hire me to gun you down, Saint. With me, that's a labor of love. I. Oh, my arm. You breaking. Turn him loose. Hey, K. Either there's someone behind you. You've developed a decided talent for ventriloquism. He's no ventriloquist, and I'M no dummy. Who are you? I'm just a man with a gun. And the gun is in your back. Turn him loose. He's loose. Oh, pal, you sure came along when I most. Beat it, huh? The boss wants you. Get right over there. Oh, you're gonna handle the sucker? I'll handle him. You beat it. Okay, pal, okay. All right. Turn around, Templar. Carefully. Very carefully. Good. You did that very nicely. Yeah, I've been taking dancing lessons. It's too bad someone doesn't sell lessons in how to mind one's own business. From now on, you're keeping your nose out of this affair. It doesn't concern you. Clear. Like tapioca. Yeah. I get shanghaied by a fast drawing Oriental with a gun. I get my skull bashed so hard my brains are threatening to move out of the neighborhood. I get very sincerely menaced by a beady eyed bandit with intent to kill. And now you come along and tell me this affair doesn't concern me. All this really happened. If I were dreaming, it wouldn't be about those kind of things. Okay, so what's the angle to all this mishmash? I can only make wild guesses. None of my ideas have had their final fittings yet. So suppose you tell me, what angle are you wearing today? Like I told you, saint me, I'm just a man with a gun. Yeah, so you said. And the paintings. Paintings? Yeah, the creative paintings. Seven in number that arrived today from Italy for the Button Galleries. Now I'm dreaming. You mean you're chasing paintings? You mean you're not chasing paintings? Friend, either you're deliberately throwing me a curve or we're not even playing in the same ball game. No, I'm not chasing paintings. What I'm chasing is just a little more dangerous. And you wouldn't say that if you were wearing my aching head. I'll be seeing you, art lover. Yeah, it's inevitable. And if you should run across an old party named Orlando Button. Before I do, will you please do something to help him stay alive? Now, this is the last pipe dream I'll listen to. Why can't this old party manage to stay alive on his own efforts? This is one of the wild guesses I was telling you about. The last time I saw Button, he was a very frightened man. The kind of fright that only comes to a man who expects he's going to be killed. If I see him, I'll do what I can to stop him from being afraid. And that statement can be taken two ways. And in the light of the Fact that it was pronounced by a fellow who hobnobs with Killer K. Goodbye, Saint. And if I were you, I'd worry about trying to keep myself alive. Good morning. I believe the door is plainly marked private, isn't it? One finds it difficult to believe all one reads these days. You know, it's nice. What's nice? That they don't hang all the works of art in this gallery on the walls. Some of it sits in a low cut dress behind a sign that says Assistant to the director. You wish to see someone? Actually, my wish is to remain here with you. But I'd never get to see Dr. Weber that way. You have an appointment with Dr. Weber? No. Well, I'm afraid he can't see you then. He's very busy. And then I'll see Mr. Button. Mr. Button? This is the Button Art Galleries, isn't it? You will have to make an appointment with Mr. Button at his home. He rarely comes down to the galleries anymore. Then I'll see Dr. Weber. After all, you not only find it difficult to believe all you read, but all you hear as well. Dr. Weber never sees anyone without an oh, it is you, Mr. Tempora. Oh, hello, George. You find employer? No, George. Gentleman is a friend of yours, George? Oh, very good friend, Mr. Simon. Temporary the saint greater detective. Makes words appear on paper with ashes. Very clever. Oh, it's nothing really to it. A detective. Something wrong? Employer missing, Miss Arthur. What? Oh, he's mysterious crate come last night by sailor. Employer and I We open. Employer get angry like he prizes. Send me quick to drugstore. Then I come back. I sent you to the drugstore, huh? Look here, what's this all about? About a crate of paintings from Genoa for Dr. Weber. Paintings? We weren't expecting anything from Italy. Perhaps Dr. Weber was. I most certainly would have known if the director was expecting a shipment. And what's all this about, Mr. Button? I wish you'd explain. Go see Dr. Weber. Maybe he likes mystery stories too. Very well, Mr. Templer. This way. Thank you. Oh, Ms. Arthur, I go public car now. Yes, My car. Oh, no, George, you don't have to. What is a Wednesday? Polish your car each Wednesday. That is why I come here. Well, you can pass it by this week. George. I haven't used my car much since the last time you gave it a bath and a polish. Okay, Very well. I skipped this week through this door. Mr. Templer. Oh, Lola, I'd like you to catalog that new. Oh, we have a visitor. This is Simon Templar, Dr. Weber. How do you do? How do you do, sir. Seems we have a mystery on our hands, Doctor. A mystery? Splendid. It was beginning to get a trifle dull around here. Won't you sit down, please? Thank you. There's nothing like a little mystery to brighten things up a bit, is there? Especially if you. One of those people who enjoys going to funerals. Doctor? Hmm? There's someone who's. Let's just say that someone, when last seen, was terrified. And let's also say that that someone hasn't been seen since. But who? Mr. Button. According to George, he's been missing since last night. I see. Mr. Templer, am I to understand that just because Mr. Button wasn't home last night, you are assuming that he's been murdered? Well, that is more or less the condensed version, yes. I believe the little verse goes like this. Don't make tragedies out of trifles. Don't shoot butterflies with rifles. It's just as foolish to make a trifle out of what might well be a tragedy. Perhaps I should give you the full length version now. Perhaps you should, Mr. Templar. A freighter arrived from Italy yesterday, the Tuscany from Genoa. It carried a small crate. Consigned to you, Dr. Weber, at the gallery here. But I received no crate. What was in me? Paintings. Paintings, Doctor. And from what Steano tells me, extremely bad paintings. But where are they? Doctor, let's let these pictures speak for themselves. Where are they? I never heard of them until this moment. I wasn't even in town yesterday. You weren't? I was in Chicago attending a fraternity convention. There was no crate of paintings delivered here to the gallery yesterday. Mr. Templer, I assure you they weren't delivered to the gallery. Ms. Arthur, the seaman who carried the crate in Steano's place, found the gallery closed when he arrived. So he did the next best thing, he thought. The next best thing? He had no way of knowing, of course, that old Mr. Button had more or less retired from business, leaving Dr. Weber in charge of his gallery. And so, rather than lug the crate all the way back to the ship, he brought it over to the button residence. Well, Mr. Button opened thing up. Curious to see what sort of stuff his gallery was buying these days, I suppose, and probably wished he was dead. I'm afraid his wish was granted all too soon. But why would anyone take the trouble to ship us bad paintings? That's what I wondered for a while, too. And that's what Button must have wondered. But not for long. He tumbled onto it practically at once. Onto what, Mr. Templer? You're aware, of course, of The National Treasures act, or whatever they call it in Italy, which prevents the export of great Italian works of art. Of course we're aware of it. The Italian government has had it in force for years. They're perfectly right in not wanting our great works of art scattered throughout the world when it rightly belongs in Italy. But I still don't understand. The seven paintings were over. Paintings? Over paintings. Surely you've heard of the technique of painting over an oil painting with gouache with a water soluble paint on the surface? These pictures look like something not even a lumber company calendar would be caught dead with underneath, as Mr. Button found. When George came back from the drugstore with materials to remove the paint, they found masterpieces by master artists of the Renaissance. What? You're sure? Yes, I'm sure. Several dozen of Italy's treasures have been missing ever since the war. The customs men tell me the Italian government had a tip that some had recently been shipped to New York. On what ship? No one knew. But Mr. Button, what did he do when he. Well, being an honest man with a reputation of many years as a reputable art dealer, he was shocked. He sent his chauffeur to fetch me. When I got there, he told me he'd changed his mind. I can assume that Button had his mind changed for him at the point of a gun. Speaking of points of guns, sir, what do you think of the point of this one? Hello, Kesek. How's your arm? It's sore, Saint, very sore. But not as sore as your head is going to be when I throw some lead in it. What is this? That's exactly what the boss wants to know. What is this? Okay, boss, you come in now. Hello, Saint Shkreli. You got a good memory for faces sent. It's been a lot of years. Who could ever forget a face like yours, Shkreli? If could win an ugly contest ever anywhere, the way this guy talks, K a guy would think you're holding an invisible gun. Doesn't make any difference that he can't see it, boss. You'll feel it as good as anybody. I demand to know the meaning of this intrusion. You're in charge of this joint? I am Dr. Weber, the director and the dam. Ms. Arthur is my assistant. You do all right by yourself, fatso. Maybe after we knock off the saint and fatso here, we'll keep her around a little. Ek, you're the pa. What brings you back to this country, Scarelli? The crime wave became just a ripple when you were deported. I'm moving back incense Bigger than ever. But first I got to clear something up, huh? What sort of something? Except for you people and a few of my boys, nobody knows. Scuggled himself back in on the Tuscany. You people ain't going to be around long enough to tell a fly about it. So I want to know something. Oh, why don't you try asking? I am asking. I have K here watching that ship day and night to see if anyone is wise to anything. See if the federal guys are maybe heard I come in on her and are retracing. And they are, huh? That's what you're going to tell me, Saint Keswick tells me he sees you snooping aboard the Tuscany. He sees lots of other guys, too. Guys with. With that cop look about them. They are a kind of cop at that was smuggled in on that boat. They looking for me, Saint? These particular cops are customs inspector Shkreli. They're looking for pictures. Huh? Pictures? Yeah, Painting. Oh, that's good news. You hear that, Kezak? They're not looking for Scarelli. They don't know him back yet. Let's get rid of these stalkers. Them boys, they got mouths. Yeah. Start operating, Kazak. You're the doctor. Save the Saint for last. All right, drop it, K. Got it? I said drop it. All right, all right. Everybody. All right. Who are you, Dick Tracy? I've already told you, Templar, I'm just a man with a gun. That gun wouldn't happen to be federal property, would it? It would. And now you're going to ask how come a federal agent lets him UG like Kazakh loose after he's been shooting his gun off at a private citizen. I know. How come? If I'd gone through with my intention of breaking off Mr. Kazak's arm, he'd have led you to a hospital instead of where you wanted him to lead you to scarelli. Right, Mr. Templer? Come on, boys, don't push. Let's get away from this smart guy. And be careful with those hands. Well, now, what was it you were saying before about things getting a trifle dull around here, Dr. Weber? This is a rather unusual morning, Mr. Templar. And the crime wave in your office isn't over yet. We're back to playing button button, Mr. Tembler. I prefer it. And so would Dr. Weber if you put your cards on the table all at once instead of one at a time. We've had enough suspense for one morning. Are you accusing Dr. Weber? How tall are you, doctor? Huh? Well, I'm almost six feet. And you, Ms. Arthur, now really Mr. Templar, I. How tall? About five feet. Doctor, you wouldn't ever wear high heels, would you? High heels? That left an impression on the leather upholstery of a chair that had been moved alongside of a doorway. I don't follow you. Ms. Arthur does. She anticipated my wish to go into Button's library last night. Naturally, that wouldn't do at all. The paintings were there, and a couple of them already had the overpaint removed. Correct? Ms. Arthur, you're insane. That wrap across the skull you gave me is probably what made me insane. Being a rather little girl. For a head banger, you needed height, huh? So just before I entered the library, where you'd had Button under a gun before my arrival, you moved a chair, so you had height. And so when I walked in, I went out. Well, I suppose one should really humor him, Dr. Weber. And then what did I do? Mr. Templar, you removed both the paintings and Mr. Button. You probably killed Mr. Button somewhere along the line. Of course you can prove all this? You can tell me or the police, shall we say, exactly where Mr. Button's body lies? Where the paintings are? Unfortunately, no. Then just as unfortunately, Mr. Templer, you have no case without the paintings found in my possession. Without Mr. Button's body. Interruption, please. We're rather busy at the moment. George, please. Oh, will not take a moment, Ms. Arthur, you ought to making mistake. Oh, please, George, we're having a conference. Would you mind leaving? Come all the way downtown to wash and polish car. You say car no dirty. Not a need bath not need polish. George, will you please go now? But Ms. Is mistaken. Just see car in parking lot. Some other time, George. Car very dirty. Car need a wash. Polish most fat. I go do so. Yes, no, of course you go do so, George. And while you're at it, take a look in the trunk compartment. No trunk compartment. What find in trunk compartment? Mr. Templer. Employer. George. Oh. Employee in trunk. No, no, I didn't plan to kill him. I. I didn't plan to kill him. I go to. I go look in that front compartment. Never mind, George. Go call the police instead. Oh, yes. Mr. Tembra, are you okay? And, George, sir, if Mr. Moto should ever need an assistant, I'll be very happy to give you a reference. You have been listening to another transcribed Adventure of the Saint, the Robin Hood of modern crime. Now here is our star, Vincent Price. Ladies and gentlemen, in tonight's cast, you heard Mary Shipp as Lola and Charlie Lung as George. Ted De Courser was Cherrilli. Larry Dobkin Kazak Fred Shields played Nash and Ted Osborn. Dr. Weber. Barney Phillips was Tiano. This is Vincent Price inviting you to join us again next week at the same time for another exciting adventure of the Saint. Good night. This Adventure of the Saint was written by Michael Cramoy. The Saint, based on characters created by Leslie Charteris, is produced by James L. Sapphire and directed by Helen Mack. Vincent Price is soon to be seen co starring with Errol Flynn and Michelin Prel in William Marshall's production of Bloodline. All you Saint fans will be glad to know that the Saint comic books are on sale at all news stands. Three chimes mean good times on NBC. For something new about the army, hear the Phil Regan show next over most of these NBC stations. Coming from a different service base every week, Phil Regan brings you songs and fun and brings prizes to talented GIs. It's an exciting newcomer to your Sunday chime lineup on NBC here at next the Phil Regan Show. And later today, following the Phil Regan show, hear Mr. And Mrs. Blandings on NBC, WBBM FM, Chicago. Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum, the refreshing, delicious treat that gives you chewing enjoyment presents for your listening enjoyment, John Lund as Johnny dollar. Stanley Mitchell dollar. Oh, how are you, Mr. Mitchell? I'm fine. Are you employed? No, not since last Tuesday. Then you can take an assignment fast as you can give it to me. Go to New York and see a Mr. Alan Saxton. He recently returned from Europe where he purchased a supposedly priceless painting. He's applied to our company for insurance on it. You said supposedly priceless? Is there a doubt? Yeah, big one. Several experts have examined the painting claim. It's a forgery. Saxton yelled foul all over the place. He paid 200,000 for the article. Well, I do a little yelling myself. A whole group of experts are going to give the painting every test there is. And if it stands up, we're obliged to insure it. And if it doesn't, I leave before Saxton comes to a boil. That's about it. I'll get right on it, Mr. Mitchell. The makers of Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum bring you John Lund and a transcribed adventure of the man with the action packed expense account, America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator, Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Friends, the makers of Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum present these weekly adventures of Johnny Dollar because they know that millions of you enjoy Johnny Dollar. That's true of Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum, too. It's enjoyed by millions day in and day out. People Find that chewing on a smooth, delicious piece of Wrigley Spearmint Gum somehow makes time pass more pleasantly. Whether you're working, driving, shopping or just taking things easy, that good, tasty chewing gives you enjoyment and satisfaction. So always keep a package of Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum handy. And whenever you want a refreshing, delicious treat, chew a stink. You'll like it. You really will. Expense accounts submitted by special investigator Johnny Dollar to home office, Great Eastern Life Insurance Company, Hartford, Connecticut. The following is an accounting of expenditures during my investigation of the Alan Saxton matter. Expense account item 1, $21.65. Train fare and incidentals between Hartford and New York City. I arrived at Grand Central late in the afternoon and went directly to a hotel where I registered and made arrangements to rent a car. Saxton resided in a quaint three story house on an estate across the river that looked impressive enough to be an annex to Fort Knox. An old Cad butler met me at the door and led the way into a mahogany and leather study where I was left to wait for the master of the house. Mr. Dollar? That's right. Glad to know you. Mitchell of your company called, said you'd be down. Yes, sir. Well, sit down, sit down, there's a guy. No, thanks. Hmm. Aren't you a little premature? How do you mean? Well, there'll be no positive confirmation in my painting till after it's been examined, you know. When will the examination take place? Nasty cough. Yeah, nasty. I'm returning the painting over to Mr. Farmer from the museum tomorrow morning. I imagine he'll have it for a day or so. I understand you paid 200,000. I. I sure did. 200,000 fat American dollars, Mr. Dollar. Have you any idea how long it takes to make $200,000, Mr. Dollar? Well, that kind of depends on who's making it. Me, I start getting senile around a buck 98. Oh, Lord, if I keep hacking like this, I'll end up doing business in an oxygen tiny. You like to see the painting, Mr. Dollar? Sure. Come on, Mr. Dollar, if I've been swindled, I'm going to cause more trouble than a hungry snake in a rabbit pen. Who'd you buy the painting from? Who? One of the biggest, most respectable dealers in Paris is all. You ever been to Paris, Mr. Dollar? Yeah, in here. Hey, how about that? Paris, eh? I rather enjoyed myself. I rather did, too. Yeah, I've been there a dozen times now and I never get tired of anything. Not anything, Mr. Dollar. The last trip I met. You're a terrible old man. Yeah. Oh, Barbara, I didn't see you. Obviously. Oh, hello. This is my impish daughter. Only child, spoiled rotten. Barbara. Johnny Dollar. Just going to show Mr. Dollar the painting there. Beautiful. Yeah. You don't really like it, do you, Mr. Dollar? Well, I really don't know much about it, Ms. Saxton. Barbara. You don't care for it, Mr. Dollar? Well, I. I guess it's for very good. Good dollar. That's an original Marshall Marshall. Oh, they're beginning to call dad the hacking sacking sack. Nasty little brat, isn't she? Who told you the painting was a forgery? A miserable little man named Lippert. Fancies himself an authority. Just jealous of what he is. Give us right clavicle for that painting. Ran around telling everyone how old Saxton got taken for 200 grand. Miserable little cousin. You going to be in town long today? Stop rolling your eyes. That's about as cruel. And that eye rolling went out with high button shoes. Who did you say sold you the penny? You look out for her Dollar. Get that tone. Are you going to be in town long, Mr. Dollar? I want to know the painting. I bought it from Renee Francois, most reputable dealer in Paris. He's only going to be in town till after they established my paintings of forgery. Isn't that right, Dollar? Who? Ronnie Francois. You. I'm doing my best to save you from this designing female. I agree with me. Oh. Oh, yeah. I'm only gonna be in town. Then you can stay for dinner. He cannot. Why not, Mr. Dollar? Well, because we haven't got enough food. Don't be ridiculous. You go on back to wherever you're staying, Mr. Dollar, and I'll get in touch the minute they finish with the painting. Now, take my word for Dollar. Quit while you're ahead. Stick around for dinner and you end up a cross. Oh, well, are you gonna stay for dinner or not, Mr. Dollar? He is not. Seems like a nice fella, but he never played polo in his life. How about a dollar? No, just an occasional game of stickballs. Stick. What position? Oh, mostly gutter. Wonderful. How's a gutter man myself? You're raised in Hell's kitchen, you know. Mr. Dollar, please stay for dinner. No, you can talk over old times. Bring back the good old days when you were out cracking skulls. You were going to leave. I am. Then show Mr. Dollar. A Saxon's word is as good as his bond. Her Bond. I'm a her sher. Sometimes I wonder. Come on, Dollar, I'll walk you to the door. You don't have to drag him, Mr. Dollar. Goodbye, Miss Sexton. Please, no. Look out. Ah, getting better. But you're putting too much of a curve on it. I hate. Come on, Dollar. Quite a girl, huh? Yeah. Nothing really wrong. Just spoiled. Got too much money. I'd ask you to stay, but you really seem like too nice a fellow. Well. Well what? Just well, at the moment, that's about as glib as I can get. I left the Saxton house, shook my head a few times to get my brain turned around and drove back to New York in my hotel. There wasn't much for me to do until the experts examined the painting. So I showered, shaved, got dressed in my other suit and called a few numbers I'd collected during several investigations to see if I could get what looked to be a dull evening back on its feet. I struck out three times and was dialing the fourth when. Yeah, come on in. Hello. Yeah. Well, yeah, yeah, sure. I hope I didn't interrupt an important call. No, no. Sit down. Thanks. Where's Daddy? Home. He wouldn't tell me where you were staying, so I found out who he was insured with. I had to call his lawyer. Then I called your insurance company. Oh, I'm flattered. I'm determined Daddy's liable to spank. I don't think so. He's really not the general he tries to be. He blusters and lays down the law and we butt head and you get what you want if it's important enough. Well, I'm sorry I spoiled your record. You haven't. Well, then my staying for dinner wasn't important? Oh yes, very important. Well then you lose. If you can't fight them, join them. Well, that's a practical bit of philosophy, but I don't see quite how it applies. I've had no dinner. Uh huh. You wouldn't accept my home cooked invitation, so now it's going to cost you. My expense account just turned yellow. Where would you like to take me to dinner? Where would you like me to take you to dinner? Shy, Violet? Maybe I'm not the most conventional type in the world. I'll go along with that. But I don't want to argue, don't want to have to coerce you. Don't want you to do anything you don't really want to do. You just want me to take you to dinner. It's a nice way to start off an evening. Yeah. And you'll take me to dinner? Johnny, Expense Account Item 2, $22.78 Dinner at a small Italian restaurant. I'm pretty sure the dinner was excellent, but I'm positive that Barbara Saxton was more a woman than I'd run into in a long time. Delilah was a Girl Scout by comparison. We got back to the Saxton home in Jersey about three in the morning, parked the car at the front door and said good night. I had a wonderful evening. Will you call me tomorrow? Right after my 2:00 shock treatment. Weren't you happy? Well, I'm not quite sure. I think we had a little too much to drink. Who had a little too much to drink? Okay, I had a little too much to drink. You're fractured. I love you. Johnny. Let's get married. Come on, dear. Love. Oh, I don't want to go in yet. I want to get married. Johnny, let's drive to some place where we can get married. No. I'm once more a clear thinking, cautious bachelor. I can fix it now while I'm conscious. Wanna bet? Oh, come on. Be a good little girl. Get out of that car and let me walk you to the door or I'll scream for help. You're mean. The word is coward. Yes. Now, come on, dear. No. All right, you're right, you're a coward. But a single one. Now, come on, kiss me good night first. Barbara, kiss me good night or I won't budge. I'll kiss you good night at the front door. It's a deal. Where's your key first? Now, honey, you promised the front door. This is it. Go. Front door. Okay. Good night, honey. Let's get married. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Now, shh. Now, honey, the door was open. I don't want to go in. I'm not going to go in. Barbara, look. No, I'm going to sit right down here. Oh, no, you're not. Oh, that's nice. Carry me, Johnny. Carry me to a minister and let's get married till death do us part. There. You're on your own. Good night. Johnny, you come back here. You can't leave me just standing here like this. Drink a big glass of milk and get some sleep. Johnny. Good night. What the. Tony. Oh, Tony. What is it? What's wrong? In the library, dad. What? He's lying there, hurt his head. It's all bloody friends. Wrigley Spearmint chewing gum is a refreshing, delicious treat you can enjoy just about anytime. Even when you're busy working, you can slip a stick of Wrigley Spearmint in your mouth and enjoy that pleasant chewing. The lively, full bodied spearmint flavor cools your mouth and freshens Your taste, the good smooth chewing helps relieve pent up tension. Gives you satisfaction. As a result, you seem to feel more relaxed and get more enjoyment out of what you're doing. So enjoy chewing Wrigley Spearmint Gum while you work. And at other times too. Get a few packages next time you're at the store. That's Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum. Healthful, refreshing, delicious. And now with our Lund, we bring you the second act of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Barbara Saxton was hysterical. I had a slap her to calm her down. Then together we went into the darkened Saxton house where I found her father, Alan Saxton, lying on the floor, bleeding from a nasty scalp wound. Johnny. He's all right. Call a doctor. Come on. Come on. Mr. Saxon. You can't stop him. Don't try to sit up. The picture. You all right? What happened? Oh. Oh, Dollar. You better stay right there. Do we get a doctor? Just sit up. Oh, my head. It doesn't look too bad. There's a lot of blood. My painting. I'll just take it easy. He got it. Look. It's gone. Okay, okay. But don't try to get up. It might be a concussion. Dory stole my painting. Cut it right out of the frame. Who did? I don't know. A man. I heard something and came down. Servant's night off. Shouldn't have been anyone down here. What'd he hit you with? A flashlight, I think. Doctor will be right over. Dead. Traitor. I thought you were dead. I couldn't be. I'd feel better. You deserted me. Oh, for Pete's sake, stop that. I'm the one who got clobbered. He nearly scared me half to death. Well, I couldn't help it. What happened? Some dirty lowlife swiped my painting. No, look, the Marshall. Yeah. Caught him in the act. Would have captured him too, but he crowned me with his flashlight. Better get some hot water in a towel. But they have to take 50. It's just a little cut. It is not. It's good for at least 50 stitches. Dear love. Yes. Dear love. Get the hot water in a towel while I go call the robbery detail. Yes, Johnny. Wait. Wait. Yes, dear love. Yes, Johnny. He took me to dinner. It's 3:30 in the morning. 3:35. What day? Tuesday. What time do you finish dinner? Look, while you're getting your suspicions up, the thief is putting a lot of miles between this house and $. Answer me one question. She didn't get you drunk and get you to marry her? I sure tried. But you didn't no. You're a lucky boy, Johnny. Oh, don't look so smug. You just think everyone wants to marry me for my money. Well, don't they? Not Johnny. I'm going to call the police. Wait, wait. Just one more question. If you married my daughter, would it be for her money? In the first place, I'm not going to marry your daughter, Johnny. In the second place, if I did, it wouldn't be for her money. See, if I was going to marry her at all, it would be for you. Your money, Johnny. Barbara got a towel and some hot water and I called the police. I stuck around while old Saxton gave his heroic side of the incident. Then I took off and drove back to the hotel where I put in a call to the Paris branch of the company. I talked with Howard Gilbert and asked him to check on the departure of Rene Francois, who, according to Saxton, wasn't expected to arrive in the States until late that afternoon. There had to be a good reason why anyone would steal a painting that had been publicized as a possible fake. Saxton wouldn't have the painting stolen because without insurance he'd just be out the 200,000 he'd paid for it. Rennie Francois might have a reason, though, because if the painting was proved a forgery, his reputation would suffer. Not to mention having to return the 200th to Saxton. Well, Gilbert promised to wire the information regarding Francois departure the minute he had it. And I left the hotel and headed across town to see an old friend, a continental stool pigeon with a way of knowing about such things as stolen $200,000 paintings. It was close to 5:00 when I rang his doorbell. Whoever it is, you're just being ridiculous. Elizabeth. Henri, open up. Not by the hair of my little goatee. If I owe you money, come back at a respectable hour. It's Johnny Dollar. I don't believe it. Only my landlord or a vampire would go to such extremes. Look, Henri, I'm going to slip a little something under the door. Another 10 might convince me. Okay, but you'll never go to heaven. I'm convinced, mon ami. Entree, Entree. I miss you, Johnny. Are you that broke? Well, until this windfall I was completely fractured. But what can I do for you? Some information. Bien, bien. Mary, is this so important that you must seek me out before the sun has risen? You ever heard of a Mr. Allen Saxton? Saxton? He's been in the papers. Well, a few hours ago someone hit him over the head and swiped a very expensive painting. Oh, is that the Saxton who recently purchased the supposed. Marshal? That's the one. But there was some doubt as to the authenticity of the painting. Experts were going to examine it today. He paid 200,000 for it. Marshal, I would have painted him something far superior for murder. Who do you think would pull a job like that? Well, what is so special about a job like that? Break into a house. Still a painting. An amateur could handle it. No, no, it's a special job for a special talent. The thief knew his Marshau. There were a lot of other paintings in that room. Well, but he could read, couldn't he? Marshall certainly signed the work. Or if he's a forgery, whoever painted it certainly signed Marshall's name. This painting wasn't signed. That's one of the reasons why there's some doubt about it. Not only that, but why would someone take that painting when it's worthless until proven authentic? You have a point. I'm thinking of a European. Oh, Jeanne, I wouldn't touch a job like this. Someone with an international reputation. Please, Jean. I am innocent, mon ami. Please believe me. Someone who could possibly be hired in Paris, or if he happened to be in the United States, could be contacted. Someone that would know this particular mar. Show and be qualified to break into the Saxton house. Henrietta, you have that knowing look. Well, you know, I was just thinking about my landlord. Sooner or later, he'll trap me. It's the law of average. So far. So far I've cleverly avoided the same genius. How much? Pardon? How much do you owe? Paltry toumence, rent, $40. Okay, but what sense is there in paying when it will only provide me with a legal claim to this disgusting dwelling and I have no sustenance to keep me alive for longer than a week? Well, then just pay him for a week. You would have me starve? How much will keep you alive for two months? Well, I would at least like to take care of Greenbaum's delicate. 10 bucks? Well, the exact amount is 15. You're lucky I've got an expense account. You think I don't know? It's all right. Who is he? Well, you might go to the Shelton Arms and inquire about a man named Gaston Chambray. It has been rumored that he arrived from Paris only yesterday. Who is he? Well, that is for you to discover. There are certain things I am bound by honor not to divulge. But any policeman in the world could help you out. I left the little Frenchman and went back to my hotel, where a cable was waiting from Gilbert at the Paris office. It told me that Rene Francois had booked passage on Air France and was due to arrive late in the afternoon. I left, climbed into the rented car and drove to the Shelton arms on East 108th street, where a sleepy night clerk gave me Gaston Chambray's room number and accepted a ten dollar bribe not to inform Chambray that I was on my way up. Who is it? A cable for you, Mr. Chambray. Oh, it's from Rene Francois. How do you know that? I peaked. You are not a messenger boy. Sure I am. I've got a message from Rene Francois. Well, give it to me. He says to give me the painting. Uh, oh, uh. I'm coming in. You have no right to come in. You got something to hide? Get out of here before I call the police. Oh, no, I'll just stick around. But if you want to call the police, why don't you go right ahead? Maybe you'd like to tell them where you were earlier this morning. I was right here in my room. I have been in my room since early last night. You didn't take a short trip over to Jersey? I certainly did not. You arrived from Paris yesterday. Yes, but what has. Oh, police. You are a policeman. I'm surprised you didn't decide that when I pushed my way in here. I have done nothing. But you know Rene Francois. Yes, but I know nothing about a painting. Now, look, I know all about you, of course, but you can't prove anything. You want me to tear this apartment to pieces? Or do you want to hand over the Marchault? I told you, I have no painting. I just said Marchaux. That could be something you shampoo your hair with. You mentioned the painting. Then, Marshau, any fool would know they are one and the same. As for your tearing my apartment to pieces, as you so crudely put it, I think you would be making a serious mistake. Really? You have no warrant. Well, now you're making a serious mistake. Really, I don't need one. You're still going under the assumption that I'm a policeman. You are not. Oh, not a bit. All right, get up. Now, where's the painting? Who sent you? I sent myself. Now, where's the painting? Okay. No, no, wait a minute. It's under the pillows on the couch. Uh huh. Why did you steal it? Maybe you didn't understand me. No. All right. I was hired. Sure you were. Rene Francois? Yes. Okay. Now, as long as you're so suspicious about policemen, put on your clothes. I'll take you downtown, introduce you to a few of the gentlemen in blue, Gaston Chambray, gave a complete confession to the police. He'd been hired by the Paris art dealer Rene Francois to steal the painting, had been discovered by Alan Saxton, and in order to make his escape, was forced to clout the old boy on the skull with his flashlight. Rene Francois was met at the plane and when confronted with the evidence, readily confessed. He explained that when the March show was proclaimed a possible force forgery, he realized that if it really was, his business would be ruined and he would have to return the 200,000 to Saxton. He checked with the sources that had originally sold him the painting and discovered that there was a strong possibility that the painting was a fake. He offered Chambray $10,000 to do the job. He'd arrive in the States after the robbery, offer his condolences, meet Chambray at a predetermined spot and take the painting. Well, Saxton took it in stride, and after Francois gave him back the money, he even laughed about it. You really did a fine job. $. I'd like to make it worth your while. Well, it'll just cost you the $85 I paid out in bribes. The rest goes on the expense account. Johnny. Oh, you look pretty bad. Terrible hangover. Don't be mean. You're responsible for this. You got my 200,000 bucks for me? It was that Francois. He was behind the whole thing. Some guy named Jim. Well, don't you want to hear about it? Johnny, will you take care of me? I need somebody to take care of me. Oh, dear love, I'd love to, really, but I've got to get back to Hartford. I can be packed in an hour. Oh, there you go with that eye rolling again. I'm not rolling them, they're rolling themselves. I have absolutely no control whatsoever. Johnny. Dear love. Yes? Dear love, Can I go with you? No. Why not? Well, I'm an insurance man. What's the matter with that? Oh, nothing. Only I know a bad risk when I see one. Johnny, I'm not a bad risk. No, but I am. Here, have a cigar. Expense account, item 3, $55.85. Hotel bill and car rental. Item 4, $19.65, train fare and incidentals back to Hartford. Expense account total $119.93. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Remember, friends, Wrigley Spearmint Chewing gum is a refreshing, delicious treat you can enjoy just about anytime. Chew a few sticks of Wrigley Spearmint during the day and see how the good chewing helps you keep feeling fresh and alert. The Lively, full bodied flavor of Wrigley Spearmint Gum cools your mouth, freshens your taste and sweetens your breath. The chewing itself gives you a nice little boost, helps you keep going at your best. Millions of people get real chewing enjoyment out of Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum every day and we know you'll enjoy it too. Get a few packages and always keep some handy. That's Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum. Healthful, refreshing, delicious. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, brought to you by Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum stars John Lund in the title role and was written by Blake Edwards with music by Eddie Dunstetter. Featured in tonight's cast were Edgar Barrier, Hal March, Virginia Gregg and Jane Ovello. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar was transcribed in Hollywood by Jaime Del Valle, the makers of Wrigley Spearmint Chewing Gum. Hope you enjoyed tonight's story of Johnny Dollar and that you're enjoying delicious Wrigley Spearmint Gum every day. This is Charles Lyon inviting you to join us again next week at the same time when from Hollywood, John Lund returns as yours truly, Johnny Dollar. This is the CBS Radio Network. We just heard Boston Blackie, Jeff Regan, Investigator, the Saint and yours truly, Johnny Dollar. That will do it for this week's episode. Thanks for joining me and I hope you'll be back next week for the 600th episode of down these Mean Streets. In the meantime, you can check out Stars on Suspense, my other old time radio podcast. New episodes of that show are out every Thursday. You can rate and review the show on Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen. You can also subscribe while you're there and if you'd like to lend support to the show, you can visit buymeacoffee.com/stsotr next time, episode 600. Until then, good night and happy listening. Now here is our star, Vincent Price. Ladies and gentlemen. In a prejudice filled America, no one would be successful in his job, his business, his church or his home. Yet racial and religious antagonisms are exploited daily by quacks and adventurers whose followers make up the irresponsible lunatic fringe of American life. Refuse to listen to or spread rumors against any race or religion. Help to stamp out prejudice in our country. Let's judge our neighbors by the character of their lives alone and not on the basis of their religion or origin.