← Down These Mean Streets (Old Time Radio Detectives)
Down These Mean Streets (Old Time Radio Detectives)
Episode 615 - Curtain Call for Crime (Sherlock Holmes, Philo Vance, The Saint, Rocky Fortune, & Johnny Dollar)
02:28:06
All the world’s a stage, but as our radio detectives discover this week the theatre offers no respite from mysteries to solve. Each of our stories involves the theatre, with crimes taking place onstage, backstage, and sometimes in the aisles. First,...
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Johnny Dollar
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 Sol the classic radio mysteries we listen to each week were performed by amazing actors. But in our stories this week, actors are also central characters. Each of the cases tackled by our heroes today concerns the theater, with crimes taking place on stage, backstage, and sometimes in the aisles. First up is Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes, with Nigel Bruce as Dr. Watson in the Case of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber Originally aired on Mutual on January 28, 1946. In this original radio mystery, our heroes are taking in a play depicting the life and crimes of the notorious Sweeney Todd. And this was long before Stephen Sondheim turned his tale into a hit musical. It seems the actor playing Sweeney has been leaning into his part a bit too much, and his comrades in the theater want Holmes to make sure he doesn't go full method in attacking the role. Another actor is in jeopardy in the Backstage Murder Case, a syndicated mystery starring Jackson Beck as super sleuth Philo Vance. Vance is called in when an actress receives a death threat and the killer follows through, but it's her understudy who winds up dead. Then we'll hear Vincent Price in one of my favorite radio adventures of the Saint. An episode called Simon Takes a Curtain Call originally aired on NBC on January 14, 1951. Simon's old actor friend needs the Saints help. The actor believes he's cursed to live out the roles he plays on stage, and in his latest play, he portrays a murderer. Simon's about to dismiss the whole thing as an actor's eccentricity, but then he learns a prop gun was replaced backstage with the real thing at a recent performance. So he investigates to make sure a killer doesn't bring down the curtain for good. Up fourth is Frank Sinatra as Rocky Fortune in Murder on the Isle, another one of my favorites. This one originally aired on NBC on November 24, 1953. Ol Blue Eyes himself is hired to make sure a drama critic stays awake and sober long enough to review a new play on Broadway. But during the show's intermission, someone stabs the critic right in his seat and right under Rocky's nose. And finally, we'll hear Bob Bailey as yours truly, Johnny Dollar in the Heatherstone Players Matter. Originally aired on CBS on July 14, 1957. We'll hear an Armed Forces Radio Service rebroadcast of this episode where Johnny is to find out whodunit when a universally hated ham Shakespearean actor meets his maker in a radio station. The curtain's about to go up as our showcase of radio theater mysteries begins with Sherlock Holmes right after these messages. Now it's winners time again. Yes, sir. Here are the two winners. The carousel contest for the week ending November 8th. Each of these listeners wins a gorgeous 117 Jewel Harmon gold watch. Just for writing an interesting letter about carry salt. The ladies watch goes Mrs. A O Nobles JR. Of Gainesville, Florida. First suggestion tells you how to remove the printed dye from sugar bags or white feed bags. She suggests you damp the bags with kerosene and sprinkle on Kerry's table salt. Then roll them up tight and let them stand overnight. Next day, just wash in soapy water and watch the dye rinse away. Sounds like a wonderful idea. And here's the winner of the man's watch. He is Mr. Sandy Rita of Cleburne, Texas, and he bases his suggestion on 30 years of experience. He says, the best thing I have ever found for smoothing rough gears and silencing their noise is is the use of Kerry salt mixed with gear grease or compound. Congratulations to both of the winners. And folks, if you'd like to win one of these beautiful watches, listen for the easy rules later in this program. Meanwhile, remember, there's a fine Kerry salt for every farm and home use. There's deep penetrating. Cary's table salt carries meat, curing salt carries mineral supplement salt and many others. Always look for the white bag box or cotton with a bright red band. Let's turn back the clock about 24 hours and drop in on Mr. And Mrs. Johnson. They're just returning from a football game. Well, here we are. Home at last. And boy, am I hungry. So am I. Let's start thinking about some food. Big juicy hamburgers maybe. Say, that's for me with plenty of catsup. Uh huh. Del Monte catsup. It has such marvelous flavor. And Mrs. Johnson really knows her catsup. Del Monte catsup, the zestiest, liveliest catsup that ever pleased a man. Now that football season is in full swing, she you'll find Del Monte catsup a bigger help than ever. When planning lunches before the game or supper afterwards, it's a Smart hostess who serves hearty food and lots of it. With plenty of Del Monte catsup. Handy to add bright, rich, spiced tomato flavor. Yes, that marvelous tomato flavor you find in Del Monte catsup. The only catsup made with pineapple vinegar. That superlative vinegar that coaxes out all the best in tomato flavor. Remember, for real zip and zest, it's Del Monte catsup every time. Next time you go shopping, look for Del Monte catsup. You'll like its quality and you'll like its thrifty price. When a cloud bursts and fresh, clean rain falls on a grove of rich green pine, it's mmm, so nice. And now that same clean scent of pine is in new pine scented Lysol. Right now, the one and only genuine Lysol brand disinfectant comes in a new pine scent. It disinfects, deodorizes as nothing else does. Kills diseased germs on contact. In laboratory tests, Lysol's anti germ action kept working for seven full days. A bottle costs as little as 29 cents. And it's so easy to use. Just add new pine scented Lysol to your suds. When you clean in bathroom, kitchen, nursery, sick room, use pine scented Lysol. Because Lysol deep cleans make your home pine sweet Lysol clean. You can still get regular Lysol too. 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. Petri wine brings you Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce in the New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. The Petri family, the family that took time to bring you good wine, invite you to listen to Dr. Watson tell us another exciting adventure he shared with his old friend at master detective, Sherlock Holmes. And if you will, I hope you listen to me for a second because I want to tell you about a wine that can make waiting for dinner a pleasure. The wine is Petri California Sherry. Any evening. Well, let's say tomorrow evening, right before dinner, pour yourself a glass of Petri Sherry. Just look at it. It's clear as crystal and a wonderful deep amber color. One sure sign of a good sheriff. And if you need further proof of just how good Petri Sherry really is, taste it. What wine? A Petri sherry has a flavor that you know comes right from the heart of the grape. And if you like your sherry dry rather than sweet, you'll really like Petri pale dry sherry. There's no doubt about it. Petri Sherry is One of the most delicious before dinner wines in this swell country of ours. Oh, and say when you serve Petri Sherry, serve it proudly, because those letters, P, E, T R I on the bottle spell the proudest name in the history of American wine. And now I'm sure our good friend Dr. Watson's waiting for us. Let's go. Enjoy. There you are, Mr. Bato. Good evening, Doctor. All alone tonight, huh? Yes, my boys, you can call a man alone when he's got his pipe, his books and a glass of good port at his elbow. Take your coat off and join me. Thanks, Doctor. Help yourself to the port. There's some rather special tobacco H over there. Fine. And now, Doctor, are you ready to tell us tonight's new Sherlock Holmes adventure? I am, Mr. Bartel, and I think you'll find it a most unusual story. It began on a Winter's Night in 1896. Holmes and I had gone to a the East End of London to see a performance of a famous old English melodrama called Sweeney Todd, the Demon Bomber of Fleet Street. It's a good bloodthirsty title, Doctor. Demon Barber. He sounds as though he specialized in close shades. Gracious me, Mr. Bartel, that. That's almost unforgivable. He was a murderer of voracious appetite who placed his victims in a specially constructed barber's chair, cut their throats and then pressed a lever that would slide, swing the chair over and decant the unfortunate victim into a horrible cellar beneath his shop. This is only a stage play you're talking about, Doctor. As my story begins, we were seated in a private box watching one of the closing scenes. Holmes was leaning forward in his chair, following the action on the stage with an obvious delight. While I sat beside him, equally engrossed, an actor by the name of Mark Humphries was playing the part of Sweeney Todd and no one could deny that he was playing it. Where are you going, Tobias? To the nearest magistrate, Twinny Todd, to denounce you have been these cruel, cold blooded murderers. You have pronounced your doom. Into the chair with you and over and down into the depth below. Ah, there tell whence comes this apparition? Tis the ghost of another customer of mine. The yawning grave yields up his ghastly inmates to prove me guilt. Dud will have Dud. He is there. He comes to accuse me of his murder. Oh, save me. Twas not I that slew you. Let me leave or it will kill me. Let me leave. Well, upon my soul, Holmes, that full of Mark Humphreys is the most Florid actor that I've ever seen on a stage. I find him enchanting, Watson. It seems to me he's really caught the flavor of this murderous monster piece. After all, a restrained performance, the Barbara Sweeney Todd would be unthinkable. I suppose it would. I must say his makeup seems rather overdone. No barber would wear such an enormous beard. Be most impractical. Probably get in the customer's faces. By the way, I noticed from the program that Mark Humphreys, as well as being the principal actor, is also the owner of the company. Yes, the current trend towards the actor manager help to sign, I think. Excuse me, but is one of you gentlemen Mr. Shalakno? Yes, I am. I was asked to give you this note. Thank you. Now who on earth knows that you're at the theater, Holmes? We'll soon find out. Ah, this note is from Mark Humphreys, our actor manager. What's the. Sir. Dear Mr. Holmes, I recognize you in your box. Please come to my dressing room, sir. My sanity and even the safety of London perhaps depends on your compliance. Hello, My sanity and the safety of London. I wonder what on earth you mean. That my dear fellow we can only discover by going backstage to meet him. As it is, the curtain's going up in the last scene. I see. For a little longer we must possess our souls in patience. Mr. Sherlock Holmes? Yes, sir. Oh, my name is Lindsay. Jerry Kinsey. I'm the business manager. Mr. Humphries asked me to meet you at the stage door. Speak you to his dressing room. Thank you very much. This is my colleague, Dr. Watson. How are you doing? Oh, how are you, Doctor? Will you. Will you follow me, please? Excuse me asking, Mr. Lindsay, but surely you must be related to that distinguished actor of some years back. Lytton Lindsay? He was my father, Mr. Holmes. Indeed, the resemblance is extraordinary. Such a heritage, Mr. Lindsay, you must love the theater. It'll probably sound like heresy, but I hate it. However, it's the only thing I was trained for. And there's good money to be made in it sometimes. And money's a thing I both like and want. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I do hope you'll be able to help Mark Humphries. He certainly needs it. I know what seems to be his trouble. He'll have to tell you that for himself. But his wife and. I think there's Mrs. Humphries now. Maria. Maria, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. Mrs. Mark Humphreys. How do you do? Oh, Mr. Holmes, I'm so grateful that you're going to see Mark. He's in such a dreadful state. There have been times lately when. When Mr. Lindsay and I have been afraid he's going out of his mind. Haven't we Derek? Indeed we have. We're both dreadfully hurried about. In that case I hope I can be of service. And which is his dressing room? Number one, next door to mine. Derek, I think it'll be better if Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson go in alone. I'm sure Mark will speak more freely if we're not in the room. I think perhaps that is a good idea, Mrs. Humphries. We'll see you later on. Come on. Come in, come in. Thank heaven you're here. Close the door. Mr. Humphries, this is Dr. Watson. Watson, eh? Yes, I. I know of you too. How do you do, sir. Sit down won't you gentlemen. You're wondering why I asked you to come back and see me. Of course. Naturally sir. Well I won't beat about the bush and waste your time. I come straight to the point. I'm going mad. I know, I know it sounds fantastic but it's true. I've often heard of actors beginning to live their parts off the stage. They play on it. Well it's happening to me. I'm turning into another Sweeney Todd. The character I'm portraying on the stage. Are you suggesting sir, that you're a professor? Yes, I am. What reason do you have for holding that belief? Reason. Listen to this. Three times in the past week I've wakened in the morning to find my boots covered with mud and my razor stained with blood. You've had no recollection of any untoward events during the night? None. Have you ever been addicted to the unfortunate habit of sleepwalking, sir? Not to my knowledge Doctor. And if I had been, surely my wife would have told me about your wife. Where do you live, Mr. Humphreys? We have a flat here about the theater. Above the theater, eh? Mr. Humphries, you say that on three separate occasions on evening, in the morning you have found a blood stained razor and mud covered boots. Can you show us this proof? No, no I can't. I was always so frightened that my wife would see that I cleaned them before she had the opportunity of finding them. It would have been very valuable clues in a case like this. I couldn't risk my wife seeing evidence like that Doctor. She'd know the truth. But at night times while she's asleep, some devilish unconscious urge has overcome me. An urge that causes me to prowl the streets of London razor in hand looking for a victim? Mr. Holmes, you've got to help me. I'm certain that with knowing it I've been committing murder. And if you don't help me I'll go on and on. Mr. Humphreys, please. I'll undertake the case. It's a very unique assignment. In effect I'm being engaged by a possible murderer to prove him guilty. Well, Mr. Holmes, I've been through all the records we have here at Scotland Yard. You found Inspector Gregson. The last two months we haven't had one case of an unsolved killing with a razor. Any mysterious disappearances, Inspector? Bless your God, Doctor. There's never a day that passes without one. Until then. Here's a list of them, Mr. Holmes, if it's any use to you. Thanks. Come on, Watson. This morning we can go back to the theatre and set our friend's mind at the pit style. Much obliged to you, Gregson. Glad to be of service, Mr. Holmes. We examined the homicide records at Scotland Yard after leaving you last night at Humphreys. There have been no unsolved razor murders in London during the past fortnight and therefore I think you may rest easy on that, Scott. But it proves nothing. Remember that in the place Weenie Todd's victims are never found thanks to his singularly horrible ingenuity in disposing of them. But this is real life, Mr. Humphries. Then how do you account for the blooded razors and the muddied boots? Well now, are you sure that they aren't in your imagination, sir? You admit that your wife's never seen them. The whole thing could be, or shall we say an overdose of. Well, I admit that I'm suffering from a surfeit of that. And when I drop the from your repertoire, our manager, Derek Lindsay won't let me. He's our best money maker and he's always got a keen eye to business. Mr. Holmes, I can see that you still don't believe my story. Though I've saved some evidence for you. Evidence that I found this morning. Look at these. Now what do you say? You still think it's my imagination? Cutter, glove, chained razor and boots covered with mud. Splendid. At last some real clues to work. How can you be so calm, Holmes? It happened again last night. Do you realize that I'm a murderer. I'm a menace to society. For heaven's sake lock me up before I do some more damage. No, no, no, no, no sir. Don't get so excited, Mr. Humphreys. I should like to take these objects back to Bitter street where I can perform some chemical Tests. You have no objections, I hope? Objections? Good heavens, no. Excellent. You've told no one of this fresh discovery of yours? No one. Not even Derek Lindsey? That's your manager, isn't it? Yes. The best friend I ever had. Kept his father before him. Derek, who helped me back on my feet. Terror too. Yes. Two years ago when I put on that disastrous production of Macbeth. I'd be the day that went for him. You lost a great deal of money on that production, sir. Nearly every penny I had. Indeed. By the way, where is your wife, Ms. Humphrey? She's an addressing next door. We matine. I'd like a word with her. What's no chap. Wait here for me, will you? I won't be a moment. Who is it? Sherlock Holmes. You want to talk to me, Mr. Holmes? For a moment? May I come in, Mrs. Humphries? Well, couldn't we talk on the stage? It's empty. I prefer to come into your dressing room, if you don't mind, but I have to say it's confidential. Very well then. Come in. Mr. Holmes, may I introduce Signor Vanelli, our musical director. How do you do, sir? It is a great honor to meet the so great Senor Holmes. I have so admired you. Oh, often I have envied you many times I say to myself. If you don't mind, I wish to speak to Mrs. Humphreys alone. Oh, I quite understand. Excuse me. Silo. Adios, madame. Maria. Mr. Holmes. I'm really awfully glad of this opportunity to talk to you. Tell me truthfully, please, what's your opinion of my husband? I haven't formed a definite opinion yet. Except that it's possible that he's the victim of abroad. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions, if you don't mind. Of course not. Mr. Holmes, has your husband ever shown evidence of being a sleepwalker? A sleeper? Oh, no, never. I see. Are you a light sleeper? Yes, I am. Exceptionally so. Hi. Oh, just curious. You're being very mysterious, Mr. Holmes. Can't you tell even me what's going on? I promised your husband the answer to that question before tonight's performance. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more until then. And now, may I ask a question? Certainly. No, I won't promise to answer it. You said just now that my husband might be the victim of a fraud. What did you mean again? I'm afraid that you must wait for the specific answer to that question. However, there's another fraud being practiced on him that I can speak of now. The fraud that you are indulging in, Mrs. Humphries. What do you mean? Of course this particular fraud is none of my business, but when I almost force my way into your dressing room and find your musical director, the plenty of rice powder on one shoulder and suggestions of rules on his cheek, it doesn't take a great few of intelligence to deduce that your husband is being deceived. Get out of here at once. That's exactly what I propose doing. Good day you, madam. No doubt I shall see you later on. Well, Holmes, what does the microscope tell you about the mud on the boots and the blood stains on the razor? On a bank on the mud. Old Jeff been the common type that is found in most parts of London. And the blood? I'm examining that now. This is a strange case as ever I remember, Holmes. Here you are trying to prove a man innocent when he insists that he's guilty. Like George Watson. Here's the answer. What? This is definitely not human blood. It's probably canine. Now, a Sweeney Top Medus would hardly drive its victim to pure dogs. Therefore it's obvious that Mark Humphreys is the victim of a devilish plot and he is not a murderer. No. Come on, old fellow, let's go to the theatre at once and give him the good news. The answer 3/4 of an hour before the time must be in his dressing room. I'm back again. Come on, Watson, let's go in. Look, look. He slumped out his dressing table. I hope we're not too late. Here, give me a hand with him. You are too late. His throat's been cut. Poor devil. I promised him a solution to his troubles before the night was over. Little did I think that the solution would be death. We'll hear the rest of Dr. Watson's story in just a second. So I'm going to ask you if you're one of those people who just eats to live or whether you really enjoy good food. If you love good eating, you've just got to know about Petri wine. Petri wine makes good food taste wonderful. For instance, if you're having steak or a roast or any meat or meat dish, you'll love it served with Petri California Burch. Petri Burgundy is the last word in delicious red wine with chicken or fish. You can't beat the delicate Petri California Sauterne, a really extraordinary white wine. Just to make sure you don't miss either Petri wine. Don't buy one, buy two. Buy both. Petri Burgundy and Petri Sauternes. They're both Swell, because they're Both Petri. Well Dr. Watson, what happened next? I think I'll pick up the story exactly where I left off. Holmes and I were standing in Mark Humphrey's dressing room looking with horror the flash throat of the actor manager. There was a bitter self accusing note. Holmes's voice promised him a solution to his troubles before tonight was over. Little did I think that solution would be worry over his supposed madness caused him to commit suicide. It's like rubbish old fellow. It's murder. Razor clutched in his hands there by the murderer. Paul. Rigor mortis had a chance to set in any case scrutinize the wound. Does that look as if it had been done by the hand of a suicide? No, I don't see why not. Look this old chap. The depth of the wound is even. Whereas a suicide cut always wavers towards the end. No, this is murder, Watson. And I think I know who did it. I have little evidence and stay at fact. What kind of a trap? Home. I've time to kill you now fellow. Every moment counts. Off with you to Scotland Guard and get Inspector Gregson. Bring him back here as fast as you can. And Watson. Yes? Tell absolutely no one except Gregson of Mark Humphry's death. And say that he's still alive. Well, and that his problems are solved. It's the performance of the player. Don't you worry about that old Jeff. Off with you to Scotland Yard. I'm sorry it took so long to find me, Dr. Watson. I was out on another case. Oh that's all right, Inspector. Performance, if there is one, must be nearly over by now. Here's the stage door, sir. Yes. Here we are. Here, here. You can't go on this t. Who says I can't? I'm Inspector Gregson of Scotland Yard. Oh, sorry. Thomas is going on. I wonder who the devil's playing. Sweeney talk. Come along. Come on. Let's just stand here in the wind rippling through this terror. But this is impossible. There's Mark Humphreys on the stage. I saw him with a throat gun. I don't believe in ghosts, Doctor. Great heavens. It's Holmes. You'll cut their first shoe. He'll revenge you while you burn down there in hell near me. He'll revenge you. Here. Here he comes. Alright. Amazing disguise. I never recognized him. You're both here. Holmes, what are you up to? Surely that's apparent. I disguised myself as the dead men hoping to cross the murderous hand who run a terrible risk. Mr. Out of my profession, Greg. Here comes Senor Vanelli, the musical director. My dear fellow, I had to leave the orchestra to come and congratulate you. Never have you given a final performance provision. But it is true, you hardly seem the same person. Your performance is incomparable. Keep it up, Mar. I think he spotted you, Holmes. Yes, sir. I didn't like his look as he said that. Well, whoever it is, they've got their hand soon. Kurt's going up in the last scene. Keep your eyes open and suspect everyone. Look, my lord. Judo sight. Do not, dear children. Your hermit lobe is stained with blood. Phoenix of what dark deed press it on your frontier. Rather dark foul deed. But heed not what you hear, Lord judge, nor what you see. Still the figures sit there. I here come to this. Tis useless to deny my guilt, but let it dead rise from their sentiments to prove Sweeney Todd. A mandala. Oh George. What an actor he'd have made, Doctor. Yes, what an actor he is. Gr I'll heck if I know how he remembers the lines though. Even if he has seen play half a dozen times. Here he comes now. Hello, Holmes. You did splendidly. But it didn't work, Watson. It didn't work. Compounded murderer still hasn't tipped his hand. Have I underestimated him? Looks as if you have, sir. And if you don't mind my saying so, I think you'd have been a lot wiser to let me handle the case as soon as you found his body instead of going in for all this dressing up stuff. Open. Of course. Now I see it. Only one person could have killed Mark Humphries. Who? Home. Who was I saying? I'll show you. I'm going to Humphreys dressing room now. Alone. Give me a few moments. Start and then follow me out of sight. But with near shot. Dr. Watson. Why does Mr. Holmes always have to be so blooming mysterious? Why can't he just say who the murderer is and take us to it? Well, I've been with Mr. Holmes on a great many cases, Gregson, and yet I can't answer that question. Come along. He's got a big enough start now. Let's follow him. I'm very fond of Mr. Holmes, you know, Doctor. And yet there are times when I get so angry with him. He shouldn't risk his life like that. You know Mr. Holmes. He'll never change. If he don't, one of these days he's going to wake up and find himself dead. Someone inside with him. You devil, Humphreys. How many times do I have to kill you? Great Scottish. Derek Lindsay, the business manager Come on Gregson. No. Lindsey. You succeeded in killing Humpus, but you won't kill me. Grab his arm. Look out for that reaper. Here you let go of me. You go. Very neat, Gregson. Are you all right, Holmes? Perfectly, thanks old chap, though I'm a little tired. Gregson, my dear fellow, will you take over from here? I think I've had enough melodrama for one day. Ah, how pleasant. Watson. Back at Baker street again, a cracking fire. My dressing gown and your company combine to make a soothing ending of a somewhat violent day in the most unusual case. Holmes, I still don't entirely understand it. The original plot of course was to try and drive Mark Humphries mad by making him think that he was a murderer. That accounts for the boots and the blood stained razor. Precisely my dear fellow. And the killer, having conditioned his victim by this trickery, then murdered him trying to make it appear a suicide. Now who had a motive? Three people. Mrs. Humphries, her lover, Signor Vanelli, and Derek Lindsay. I must say that I suspected the wife. Well so did I for a while. And yet it was illogical. She knew, and we may therefore presume that her lover knew and that I was suspicious of her. Then she must have known that you promised her husband a solution to his troubles before the night was out. It seems highly improbable that she or Senior Vanelli would have faked his suicide at that point. Quite right, my dear fellow. So I investigated Derek Lindsay's affairs and I found that what Humphreys had referred to as the kindly act of a friend in helping him back onto his feet was in reality the mortgaging of his entire theatrical effects. Denzel stood to inherit the theater on Humphreys death. Therefore I was convinced that he was the killer. And then after he'd murdered him, he saw what he thought to be Mark Humphreys on the stage. Ah, that's what I was. Slow and stupid old chap. I couldn't imagine what motive gave the cold clear nerve to suppress all reactions when he saw his supposed victim revived on the stage. Only at that moment did I realize what was the motive that made him hold his hand. The characteristic that ruled his life, Watson. Avarice. A morbid love of money. You see, if it attacked me during the performance he'd have had to refund the money to the audience. His greed conquered all other patterns. It made him wait until the performance was finished before he attempted my life. You know Holmes, now the case is solved, I'll tell you something in confidence. Please do. Well fellow, what is it? At the end of the play tonight, I was afraid that you made a mistake. I put on the gate. Gregson thought so too, and I. Watson, will tell you something in confidence. Oh, what is it? There were three of us that felt the same way. Now you're being modest. I assure you I'm. My dear chap. In fact, in the future, if it should strike you that I am more, well, getting a little overconfident of my powers or perhaps giving less pains to a face than it deserves, kindly whisper Sweetie Todd in my ear, will you? I shall be infinitely obliged to you, Doctor. That was a swell story and. And a pretty narrow escape for home. Yeah. He said he almost solved the case too late. The fortune ended. Well, the thing that sticks to my mind is the fact that this is one of the very rare occasions when Holmes almost made a serious mistake. We all make mistakes at times, don't we, Rachel? I said we all make mistakes at times. I suppose so. You mean to stand there and tell me that you never make a mistake? Well, not when it comes to choosing a wine, I don't. Because I always choose Petric. Until you fat me again. Could be. But honestly, Doctor, when you choose a Petri wine, you know it's a good wine. Because good wine is the only kind of wine the Petri family makes. And it's easy to understand why when you realize that ever since they started the Petri business way back in the 1800s, the Petri family has handed on down from father to son, from father to son, the highly developed fine art of winemaker. Yes, the Petri family's been making wine for generations. That's why no matter what type you prefer or any occasion, you can't go wrong with a Petri wine. Because Petri took time to bring you good wine. Well, Dr. Watson, do you care to give us a clue about next week's Sherlock Holmes event? Let me see. Next week, Mr. Bartel. Next week. Now. Yes. I'm going to tell you a colorful story that took place in a Parisian Circus in 1890. It concerns a very personage, the lady bareback rider and a strange death warning. Oh, boy, I. I can't miss that one, Doctor. Good. Well, now, before you, I want to say something to all our friends. I want you just to think for a minute. Think of how terrible it is to see helpless little children sticking out infantile paralysis. And then realize that infantile paralysis can be beaten. It can be beaten in very many cases. And your money, your dimes can do it. Join the march of dimes. Send your dimes to your local March of Dimes headquarters. Let's help little children walk. Help them live. Tonight's Sherlock Holmes adventure was written by Dennis Green. And Anthony Boucher was suggested by an incident in this Arthur Conan Doyle story, the Yellow Face. Music is by Dean Plin. Mr. Rathbone appears through the courtesy of Metro Goldwyn mayor and Mr. Bruce through the courtesy of Universal Pictures, where they are now starring in the Sherlock Holmes series. The Petri Wine Company of San Francisco, California, invite you to tune in again next week, same time, same station. Sherlock Holmes comes to you from our Hollywood studio. This is Harry Cartel saying good night for the Petrie family for a solid hour of exciting mystery dramas. Listen every Monday on most of these Same stations at 8:00-michael Shane, followed immediately by Sherlock Holmes. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System. Ms. Deering, do you think you might stop typing for a moment and listen to me? I could try. Thank you. You see, Vance, you never know the things you can do until you try. What am I to listen to at the moment? A bit of thinking allowed. Markham phoned and asked me to wait for him in my office. Right. Why? I don't know. It can't be a murder case or the eminent district attorney would have asked you to meet him at the scene of the crime. Say, who's doing this thinking aloud, you or me? Both of us. Markham said he was going to bring someone with him. Now, who could that be and why? Well, it could be anyone and for almost any reason. Ellen. I know. Go back to my typing. I'd like to make a wager with you. I'll bet I come closer to guessing the purpose of the district attorney's visit than you will. Vance, if I bet against your guessing or your reasoning, you'd have the only full time secretary with no pay on record. Oh, there you two. Oh, hello, Mr. Markham. Come in, Doris. Welcome, Markham. And an extra special welcome to your lovely companion, Ms. Janel. May I present Philo Vance and Ellen Dearie. How do you do? How do you do? How do you do? Come into my private office, Markham. Thanks, we will. Come along, Miss Janel. Go right in, Miss Danelle. Thank you, Markham. Thanks. Oh, Miss Dearing. Yes, Mr. Vance? You should have made that wager. I've never been further off base in my life. Now he tells me. Well, I'm delighted to see you, Markham. And I hope I know why you're here. I'm not sure myself whether I should have come, Vance. This isn't exactly in your line. I'm A private investigator. What's the trouble? Isn't this private? Yes, it most certainly is, Vance. Doris Janel is the star of the play at the King's Theatre. Let me tell him, Mr. Markham, please. By all means, Mr. Vance. I received this note this afternoon. It worried me. I brought it to the district attorney's office because I thought that was the thing to do. Here it is. Will you read it, please? You read it to me, Ms. Denel. What does it say besides threatening you with death? But you haven't seen it yet. How did you know? You're upset, Ms. Denel. Nothing else would account for it. What else does it say? It says if you play your role in the theater tomorrow night, you will be dead before morning. And that's all, Mr. Vance. That's enough. I'd say so. The note threatens you if you go on tomorrow night. Not tonight. Might be the work of a crank, but I don't think we can afford to take that chance. I can't, I'll tell you that. Do something for me, Ms. Danelle. If you receive any further communication, please mention it to no one. Now, that's important. I imagine you are not going on tomorrow night. Mighty good imagining, Mr. Vance. I definitely am not. I don't mind taking chances, but when I do, I just as soon it cost me money if I lose. Not my life. Yes? Who is it? It's Betty Wheeler, Ms. Danell. May I come in? Sure. You wanted to see me badly, Betty. How long have you been my understudy? About three months, I'd say. And you've never had a chance to go on? No. Well, you've got one now. Here, throw this towel in the laundry bag, the one hanging on the door. Catch. Is this your laundry bag? It isn't anything Santa Claus is waiting to pick up. Just the laundry man and he won't be here for two days. Well, what about tomorrow night? Do you want to go on for me? Do I? Playing the lead on Broadway opposite Jack Aldridge. Oh, I can hardly believe it. But may I ask one favor? Sure, kid. What? May I use your room? Why not? I've never used a star's dressing room. The joint's yours for tomorrow night. Take it with all the trinity. Yes. Aye, a decent Doris. Sure. Come on in, Peters. As if there was a way of keeping a company manager out of the dressing room. Hi, Doris. Hello, Betty. What's going on here? Hello, Mr. Peters. Have you heard? I'm going on to Miss Daynell tomorrow night. What's the matter, Doris? Don't you feel good? I feel fine, but I'd like to stay that way. I got a note threatening my life if I work tomorrow night. What? Maybe it's a gag, but I'm not taking any chances. Just one performance. That's all the note said. Peters, Betty here is your star for one night. Well, this show is getting jinxed. I'm sure of it. Faced, it's robbery. Now it's this threat. What's this robbery routine? Somebody steal a bow? Stealing a bow? Somebody stole the receipts from the office two nights ago. Over $4,000. And the cops are going crazy because they can't find any evidence of anybody breaking in. Inside job, huh? That's the way it looks. But that doesn't help this threat business any. Doris, you wouldn't, uh. No, I wouldn't. That's what I thought. Mr. Peters, are you in there? That sounds like our director. Yeah. Come on in, Hartley. Good evening, Mr. Nell, Ms. Wheeler. Good evening, Mr. Hartley. Peters, they told me you were in here. That was very, very nice of them. And you found my dressing room without trouble. Well, the director of our show has a sense of direction. Hey, I'm starting to feel better already. Ms. Daynell, can't we go somewhere and talk? There are so many things I want to ask you. Well, there's one thing I want to tell you. Don't get used to the way Jack Aldridge makes love to you on stage. He's mine on stage. And what's more important, off. Oh, of course, Mr. Enel. I know that. Well, what are you standing there like that for? Hartley? You're supposed to come in here to see me. What about? I did not want to interrupt the young ladies. I find their conversation very interesting. I'll have a record of it made for you. Now, what do you want with me? Please come outside, Peters, so we can talk. Tell me in here. I think it would be better for you if you came outside. Okay. Come on. I'm ready. Well, Hartley, what is it? It's on your mind. Money, Peters. I need some money. 10 till payday. Let's not fool, Peters. I don't want any of that vaudeville money. I need dough. A thousand, maybe fifteen hundred. Who doesn't? You are going to give it to me. Am I? How do you know? It isn't how I know. It's what I know. Shall I go into details, Jack? You know, I think I'm being a SAP for believing that that threatening note I got was on the level. Maybe you're right, Doris. I just don't know Nothing happened at tonight's performance. It wasn't supposed to be tonight that anything happened. I worked a little with Betty Wheeler and tomorrow night maybe the understudy gets her big chance. I told her she could, but now I'm not so sure. I'll miss you, honey. If you don't make it, you might miss me permanently if I work tomorrow night. But I'm not sure yet that I won't go on. Something tells me maybe I ought to. Well, here's my apartment. You've got to make the long walk to the next one all by yourself. Think you can make it? I can make it this once. You're not nervous? No, not a bit. If anybody bites me, I'll scream for you and you can come and bite them back, okay? Sure is. Two more weeks and no more goodnights, right? Right. Just two weeks till the wedding night, darling. Oh, you want an extra good morning kiss for the one we missed tonight? Well, I'm kind of gonna want you to pay that little debt, honey. Good night. What's the matter with this lock? It's not the lock. It's me. There. I'm so tired. Who can that be at this hour? Hello, Ms. Danelle. You got my note? Yes. Who is this? Never mind. You're gonna be a smart girl and not go on tomorrow night, ain't you, Miss Danelle? I. I don't know. You better know. You better know for sure too. An econom. I wasn't kidding, sister. I meant it. You walk on stage tomorrow night and you'll be carried out of your apartment the next day. Hey, everybody. 20 minutes to rehearsal time. 20 minutes on stage in 20 minutes. That's what we did for your understudy. Doris called a special rehearsal. Where is Betty Peters? In your dressing room. She said she had an okay from you to use it. That she did. Is Jack around? I don't know. I haven't seen him. Well, here's my room. I saw Betty come in about half hour ago. Wait, I'll knock. Hey, she couldn't have gone out or I'd have seen her. Betty. Betty. Ms. Wheeler. Hey, Wheeler, open up. Peters. I never locked that door in my life. Something's wrong here, Doris. Hey, somebody. Miller, Hartley. Come on over here. Something's the matter in Doris dressing room. Doris. It isn't me, Jack. It's Betty Wheeler. She was using my room. Oh, thank goodness. What's going on, Peters? I don't know. Wait a minute. I got a key to this dressing room. Betty took mine yesterday. Ms. Wheeler is in There. I saw her go in. Thanks, Hartley. You're a big help. Yeah. Here's the key. Jack. Jack, darling, stay close to me. I think I'm getting scared. Come on, Betty. Good Lord. Let me get back. Everybody. Everybody keep away from this room until the police get here. Betty Wheeler has been murdered. This is her dressing room, Vance. Nothing has been touched, but the body has been removed. So this is it, eh, Markham? No possible lead on the killer? Nothing Sergeant Heath could find. Vance, you know about the robbery here a few nights ago when the night's receipts were taken. Yes, I know about it. Heath believes that was an inside job, doesn't he? From what I understand, it had to be. No one broke in and the receipts were missing. Over $4,000. That kind of money will be hard to trace. All small denomination bills. It would also make a pretty sizable package. I don't suppose that matters. What does matter most now is this murder. Vance, do you think there's a connection between the murder and the robbery? Possibly. Let me see. Doris Denel received a note threatening her if she went on stage for tonight's performance. And then her understudy, Betty Wheeler, was murdered in Ms. Danelle's dressing room. What's that? Sounds like a fire warning. Fire? Everybody get out. There's a fire in the theater. Everybody, Markham. Includes us, I suppose. Doesn't anything ever upset you or your routine, Vance? Certainly I was about to leave, wasn't I? Neither of you gentlemen need leave. There is no fire. I beg your pardon. I'm Oscar Hartley, Mr. Vance. There is no fire. Well, that's an absurd complication. Fire alarm, but no fire. Thank you very much, Mr. Hartley. Oh, apparently you know Mr. Vance. I'm Markham, District Attorney. Oh, how do you do? Somebody set off the fire alarm, but there's no fire. Vance, what's going on here? I haven't the slightest idea. Let's lock this dressing room, Markham. No one's been in here since the murder. No, it's under guard until the police are able to go through it properly. But are we leaving, Vance? Yes, we're of the theater now, Markham. And tradition, it seems, insists that the show must go on. Well, so must this is District Attorney Markham. The backstage murder case began when Doris Daynell, stage star, received a note threatening her life if she played her role the following night. The threat came after the theater office had been robbed of $4,000 in small bills. Vance appeared at the theater after Betty Wheeler, Ms. Janel's understudy, had been murdered and met Peters, company manager and Oscar Hartley, director of the show. He has yet to meet Jack Aldridge, Ms. Janel's fiance and leading man. I have just had a report that Peters, the company manager, is in his office with Doris Daynell. It's just about the time for. Look, I don't want to hear any more about it. Doris, you're going on tonight. You've got to. I can't, Peters. I just can't. You can't? Why? Because of what happened to Betty? Not only that, I. I can't tell you why. Mr. Vance told me not to. What is all this? What's going on here? Oh, all right, I'll tell you. I got a phone call last night. It warned me not to go on. Mr. Vance told me if I received another threat, I was to mention it to no one. And I haven't till now. You told nobody? Nobody but you, Peters. Not even Jack. Doris, you've got to go on. I'll fill backstage with policemen if necessary, but you got to go on. I can't refund the money for tonight's performance, and I'll have to if you don't work. We're in a financial jam as it is, what with that money being stolen. I know, and I'm sorry, but I. Doritz, I know how you feel, and I'm sorry, too. But please do this for me, for yourself, for the rest of the company. You've got to do it. Hey, Da. Maybe I ought to take this murder room apart piece by piece. Maybe then I'd get a clue to who killed that Betty Wheeler. Well, do you think that'll help? Go ahead, Sergeant Heath. Maybe that won't be necessary, Heath. Hello, Markham. Oh, hello, Vance. Heath and I were just sitting here in the dressing room trying to reason out this Wheeler murder. That's not a bad way of solving a murder, Markham. Heath, what's the status of this room? What's been done to it since the murder? Nothing yet. Fingerprint man went over it, found nothing. I'm thinking of taking it apart. Not a bad idea. What's this on the back of the door? You mean the laundry bag? No, I mean this tacked up notice. Don't forget to turn out lights. Laundry will be picked up every Friday. That's tomorrow. Please leave key with dormant. Well, there's certainly nothing unusual about that. It's on every theater door in the country. You know, Vance, I was thinking the murder of this Wheeler girl had something to do with a robbery in this theater. I think it's the other way around, but I agree. You Know something, Vance? If I could just find out who stole those receipts or where the money is, I'd be on the right track. I'm sure of that. Oh, I know where the money is. What you do, Vance? And who stole it. I don't know who stole it or who murdered Ms. Wheeler. But I repeat, I do know where the money is. Well, where is the doe, Vance? Right there in that laundry bag. But you can't know that, Vance. You were only in this room once before, and then only for a few minutes. And I was with you all the time. I didn't see you look in that bag. I haven't looked yet. But I see the sergeant is about to. Go ahead, Heath. Dump all that stuff on the floor. Just what I'm doing. Holy mackerel, this package. Is that the money, Vance? Probably. Hey, it is money, Lots of it. Over $4,000, if I'm not mistaken. Vance, anytime you say anything from now on, I'll bet you're not mistaken. How did you know it was there? Reasoning, Markham? The theater robbery we suspected was an inside job. In view of what followed, it seemed reasonable to me that the HID the money in this dressing room. Why would he do that? My guess is that he was almost caught. There's a night watchman at this theater. Maybe the thief saw him and knew he couldn't explain the package. Ms. Danelle told me her dressing room was never locked. Everybody in the show must have known that. So the thief, to avoid being seen, ducked into this dressing room. That's right. He dropped the money in the laundry bag here, thinking he could pick it up the next day. But he couldn't get in here because Ms. Danell was using her dressing room. When she wasn't. There was somebody around her maid or fiance, actors or somebody. So he couldn't get in here to take out the money. He knew the laundry was to be removed tomorrow. And tonight was the last chance he had to get into this dressing room and get back the money he'd stolen. Go ahead, Markham. You're doing fine. Thank you. First he threatened Ms. Daynell, but he found that that didn't work because Ms. Wheeler was using this room. That's right, Markham. And when he learned Ms. Wheeler intended to use this dressing room tonight, he tried to get in here this afternoon. Only Ms. Wheeler caught him. He had to kill her. But he still had no chance to get the money out. Later he tried to get us out of the room with that fake fire, but that didn't work either. Hmm. Yes, that certainly sounds reasonable. Vance. It's what happened, Markham. I'm sure. Let's not say anything about finding this money as a first step toward finding the killer. That's right, Aunt Markham. What a big step that's liable to be. I've questioned Jack Aldridge and Mr. Peters, Mr. Hartley. And I didn't want you to think I was slighting you in any way. I know you had talked to them. I overheard you. You did? How? By the exceedingly simple process of putting my ear to the door. I just wanted to see how far Peters would go in indicting me. You see, he and I did not get on very well. So I learned. But still, you direct every show he's connected with. I'm a genius. That's not the way I heard it. Apparently, you have a hold of some kind on Peters. Very definitely. You see, many years ago, Mr. Peters happened to take some money out of a theater safe. The producer caught him. Peters was allowed to put the money back when he swore it was his first offense and would never happen again. So nobody was hurt nor any the wiser. Except you. Oh, I had to know. You see, I was the producer. It's an hour before curtain time, Vance. Aren't you going to the theater to watch Doris Daynell? If you decide she is to go on, probably. And you're going with me, Miss Deering. Well, good. You think I might have time to hop off home and don some gay arraignment? Yes, if you like. I thought I'd. Vance, you've got to come to the theater. Now, sit down, Aldridge. Relax. What's the trouble? Doris received another threat. A phone call last night. The murderer insisted she doesn't go on and that there be no performance tonight. No cause for your excitement, Aldridge. No cause for excitement after what's happening in our theater? I love that girl, Vanson. All this is making a wreck of her. She says she'll go on if you tell her to. But you can't take a chance with her life. I'm sure the murderer intends to strike again. That sounds like a line out of a play. But. Very well, Aldrich, I'll go. I'm sorry, Ellen. You won't have to bother about changing your dress. I'm going to see a murderer about changing his mind. I'm so glad you're here, Vance. When you're around, I feel much safer. That's hardly a tribute to my romantic appeal, but I like it, Ms. Danelle. I'm just taking a little inventory. How many phone calls did you receive? Just one. One in my room, Vance. I told Mr. Peters about the call. I had to. I was trying to tell him why I couldn't go on tonight. You're going on, Doris, and you're going to be great. Greet. But the man who murdered Betty and who threatened me, Vance. What about him? Him? I know who he is, Ms. Dano. He probably thinks he's very clever. I'm going to let him make his second mistake. Second? What was the first? Thinking he was very clever. Sergeant Heath. Right here, Vance. Can't see you very well in the dark, though. Just keep your eyes straight ahead, Heath. There'll be a light showing any minute now. Huh? A light. A match or a flashlight match probably. It doesn't attract as much attention and suits the purpose. You are sure everybody connected with this show thinks we haven't examined the late Ms. Wheeler's dressing room? Sure I'm sure. I practically announced it it two cops so that everybody could hear. Did a good job, Vance. Down the corridor. A light. It's a match. That's what I expected. Do I grab whoever is carrying it? That's right. I'd sure love to know who it is. There goes the match in the dressing room. Plus the man that's carrying it. Go get him, Heath, and get a look at him yourself. I promise you a great surprise. Ellen, how long will you be getting dressed? Not long. What's the hurry? Won't they hold up the show till we get there? Well, Vance, how do I look? As interesting as an unsolved murder. As soon as I find out if I like that, I'll thank you. And speaking of unsolved murders, let's talk about one. You solved the backstage murder case. I understand from Mr. Markham that you had everything in the case all figured as you went along. How'd you know? Trade secret. Let's trade secrets. I'll tell you why I like going out with you and you tell me how you knew the murderer. Deal. You know all about the robbery of the theater safe and its association with the murder of Betty Wheeler. Yes, of course. Your turn. Well, I like going out with you because I never know what you're going to do or say next. Your turn. Oh, just a second. Seems to me that I understood Doris Daynell got a phone call from the murderer several nights ago. Just a few seconds after she'd said goodnight to her fiance. Now, how could the murderer have been Jack Aldridge? Very easily. He needed only a few seconds to go into his apartment and call Doris to threaten her. Well, I'm waiting Ellen? Oh, let's see. I like going out with you because you're so different. Now, another question. How did you know it was Aldrich? Good question. When he came breaking into our office last evening, he seemed terribly distressed about the phone call his fiance had received. He wasn't supposed to know anything about that phone call. Doris didn't tell him. Peters, whom she told, didn't tell him. So? So the only way he could have known about it is if he made the call. So he made it. Now it's my turn to say something nice to you, isn't it? Well, let's see now. Is it that difficult? No, I've got it. I like going out with you on account of. Most of all, I like going out with you. A little repetitious, but very flattering repetition. Well, that's about all there was. Of course, while I knew his identity, I couldn't prove it. So I set the stage for Aldrich to steal back the money he had hidden in Doris Danell's laundry bag. He tried to. And Sergeant Heath took care of him. I'm glad that Sergeant Heath took care of Aldrich. That and the fact that you were right again. And that we're going out and that you're you and that I'm me. And most of all, I'm. What? Glad. Yes. That this is the end of the backstage murder case. 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. They say each man kills the thing he loves. And so I have killed you, my love. But the cruel, merciful knife which parts our flesh shall bring us yet together in a together which is forever. I'm ready, officer. Pardon me, but where may I wait for Mr. Bennett? Well, he's still on stage, taking by. Yes, I know. I was in the audience. My name is templar. Oh yes, Mr. Templar. He's expecting you. You can wait in the searching room. It's right down the hall there. First on the right, the one with all the flowers on it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, darling. Did you really enjoy that? Thank you. See you shortly. Come in. My dear. You are sweet, dear, but. Hello, Mercer. Congratulations. Simon. Templar, how perfectly wonderful of you to come. As I was saying, my dear Shari, you are sweet and utterly charming throughout, but never, never cross in front of me. Me? Never. Yes, Mercy. I'll remember and you were magnificent. Thank you. Thank you. Oh. Oh, sorry. This is my old friend, Simon Templer. Templar, Shari Babcock, my leading lady. How do you do? How do you do? Go change, my dear. I. I'll meet you shortly. Of course. Mercy. Goodbye, Mr. Templar. Goodbye, Miss Babcock. Well, your taste is still excellent, Mercer. I picked my leaves on her acting ability alone. Templar, now why I sent for you. By the way, what did you think of the play? Well, it was. Yes, I know, I know. I took only five curtain calls. An ominous sign for me, practically a curtsy. Writers? Why, Templar? Why don't they have writers like Shakespeare around these days? It's a plot against actors. I believe you. Well, perhaps the Binets will carry this thing along for a season. But it will be a strain. Mercy, why did you send for me? Oh, sit down, Templar, while I remove my makeup. I am sitting down. Well, then stand up. No, no, no, no, don't. I hate to talk up to someone. I don't work well that way at all. Templar, I'm afraid of this play. It scares me, too. Oh, no, no, no. Not that way. Templar. I've begun to notice a peculiar relationship between. Between Mercer Bennett and his roles. Now, you'll think this a bit eccentric of me, perhaps, but it's true, Templar. I'm living my roles. No, wait. Let me tell you. I don't know what it is. Perhaps I put too much of myself into a part. But the roles I portray on the stage, I also portray in real life. For example? For example, in Time Waits for Tomorrow, I played an actual actor who marries his leading lady. I married my leading lady. Astonishing. Wait. In Crossroads of the World, I played a singer who marries the angenu. I married the angenu. Laugh that off. I don't have to. I didn't marry her. You did. Yes, but I could. Go on. Templar, this thing has been plaguing me for years. I have a feeling of fatalism about any role I undertake. That it can't help being realized offstage. Why get excited about it now? Because, Templar, because in this play I not only fall in love with my leading lady, but I kill her. Well, has the first part come true? Well, one might say so, yes. She's utterly infatuated with me, of course. And she's a charming thing. I see. And you're afraid you're going to kill her? Deathly afraid. Well, it's been nice seeing you again. Merciful. Wait, wait. Don't go. I'm not just imagining things. The way the part was Originally written, I shot Shari. But in our tryout in Boston, the prop man discovered that someone had put real bullets in the gun. Are you sure? Of course I am. That's why I had it rewritten to a knife. We use a rubber blade, of course. Of course. And you have no idea who put those bullets in the gun? None. It could have been anyone, even you. That's what haunts me about this whole business. Templar. Could I have done it and not know it? Could I do it again? Oh, you've got to help me, Simon. All right, I'll do what I can. But it might not be much. Ah, I'd appreciate it, Simon. I'd appreciate it immensely. And when we of the theater. Please, no tears. Where should I start? My agent and business manager will tell you who to see and they take you around. Stuart Jackson. Low fellow, Mal. I'll see him in the morning. I'm deeply grateful, Simon. Why, I hardly dare look at the girl. I avoid her. I Mer. Daddy. Coming, Char darling, coming. Well, you see, I am. Yes, I know the show must go on. See you tomorrow, Mercer. Mighty nice of you to take this on for us, Mr. Templer. I know it's been working on Mercer. What do you think of this, Jackson? This idea that Bennett has about his roles coming true? Well, I represented a lot of actors, Mr. Templer, and they're screwy, every one of them. And I'm not sure Mercer Bennett's not the screwiest of the lot, but he's a great actor. You think this whole thing is about nothing? I didn't say that. Maybe all in the head, but we what's in the head gives plenty of trouble. You know what I mean? I know what you mean. And after the notices on the play this morning, he'll be screwier than ever. Not good from Stinkville. And he needed the dough too. I thought Bennett had plenty. Paying alimony, the four wives. Nobody's got that much dough. Well, the first one Bennett wants you to talk to is Lola Enright. She was his first wife. We're not going to talk to all four. Lola is the only one in town. Kind of an old lush, but a good kid. She used to be quite an actress. Well, let's go collect her autograph. Morning, Lola. Can we come in? Mr. Jackson, do come in. I hope you'll excuse my just reading over a frightful stack of plays that begging me to do. Leslie wearing finding a vehicle. Skip it. Lola, this isn't the producer. This is Simon Templer, the saint. Now, why don't you Say so. How do you do, Mr. Templar? Sit down. Thank you, Ms. Enright. I've enjoyed your performances many times. Must be older than you look. What's up, boys? Mr. Templar, I'd like to ask you a few questions, Lola. About Mercer. Well, if you're going to talk about him, I've got to be fortified. Excuse me, Mr. Templer, have you ever met my friend? Oh, yes. Yes, I have. Good. Then I don't have to introduce you. How about joining us? Well, I'm very fond of your friend, but not this early in the morning. About Mercy Bennett, Ms. Enright. What about him? Well, very briefly. He has a fixation about roles he plays on the stage, in acting themselves, in real life. And in his latest play, he kills his leading lady. Tell him not to worry. That turkey won't run long enough for him to step on an ant. Something has occurred, however, to indicate that this isn't all imagination. You know anyone bearing any ill will against Bennett, Ms. Henri? Sure I do. Anybody that knows him. Oh. Well, how about you? If I may be blunt. You mean, would I kill his leading lady and frame him with the murder? Um. Let me think it over, Simon. Sure you don't want to say hello to my pal here? No. No, thanks. Well, I do. Mercer, Bennett. The problem being, would I like to see him accused of murdering his latest love? Well, I might. I very well might. Anything else I can do for you, Simon? Play Camille, Butch candy between acts, Tour with the South Pacific Company of South Pacific. If anything comes up, Lola, I'll let you know. You're a nice boy, Simon. I'll give you a tip. Never be seen in public with agents. So long, Jackson. Here's to crime, Simon. Happy days, Lola. Yeah, happy days. Well, what's the next port of call, Jackson? I know Prince, Mr. Templer. Broker, he says. Also has a wad of dough on the show. Oh, yes, you told me. Yeah. Here's his office. Here. No. Secretary. Guess we go right on in, huh? I guess so. Morning, Mr. Prince. You're busy. Hello, Jackson. Have you seen the notices? Did you see those? Horrible. Prince, this is Mr. Templer. Simon Templer. He wants to ask a couple of questions. Why? Because I think a crime may be committed, Mr. Prince, and I'm trying to prevent it. You're too late. The crime happened last night when three sixes of 17 opened. Yes, I can understand your point of view. Tell me, Mr. Prince, what was your reason for putting money into the show? The play itself. I'll tell you. The reason was Sherry Babcock. I Was made a fool of. Sally was your girl. If I hadn't thought so, I wouldn't have put a cent into this egg. I couldn't afford the money. Do you hold any animosity towards Shari or Bennett? Toward both of them. How much animosity? Just this. Mr. Templar, I have a reputation for being a man. It isn't safe to make a fool of. Do I make myself clear? I think so. Good. Good day, gentlemen. Oh, just one more question. Are you what they call an angel, Mr. Prince? An angel? You needn't answer that. Good day. This is shari Babcock's apartment, Mr. Templer. I hope you don't mind if I let you go in alone. I shudder at the thought. Oh, yeah? Well, being Mercer's business manager and agent both ain't got a lot of details to look after. He wanted you to talk to Charlie Glenway. He's the author of this bomb. But if you talk to Charlie long enough, Charlie will be along. Get what I mean? I get what you mean. See you later, Mr. Templar. Good morning, Miss Babcock. I don't know if you remember me, but. How could I forget? Won't you come in, Mr. Templar? Simon. Oh, thank you, Sally. Have you seen the notices? Yes. Well, it was to be expected, of course. Charlie's a nice boy, but just not a writer. Just not a writer. Charlie, are you aware of the fact that as long as this play runs you may be in considerable danger? Terribly exciting, isn't it, huh? You're not frightened? But that's theater, Simon, dear. Actors living their roles. The excitement of opening night, the smell of green. Sorry. Charming. Let's not do the grief paint in the veins bit, huh? Of course, you know about what happened in Boston. The real bullets instead of the blanks. Wouldn't it be fascinating if darling, old Mercer had actually done it himself? Unconscious love but subconscious hate. Fascinating Like. Like I'm look at a Gabler. Did it ever occur to you that. Sorry. You seen the reviews? Oh, not Charles, darling, not Simon. Tammy, this is Charles Glenway, our author. The rats desert the sinking ship. You thought the play was pretty hot stuff this time yesterday. Shari. Oh, how are you, Templar? Thank you. Don't be rude, Charlie. And if one simply isn't a playwright, one should face it, Quote Mercer, Bennett, unquote. It was a play before he got hold of it. Him and his rewrites. Of course, it ended up garbage. It was bound to. Speaking of rewrites, Charles, darling, I've got some ideas about the second act. My Line simply has have to be fixed. You know your lines have to be fixed. Well, you certainly fixed them last night. All right. Why don't you get that dramatic school mush out of your mouth and. And talk? You think it improves things if nobody can hear you? In this case, yes. Am I intruding on anything? All right, all right. We. We won't fight, Shari. I don't want to. Fine, darling. And you will rewrite my lines in the second act. No. Yes. I'll keep score for you. Who is this guy anyway? Another Arnold Prince. I was never anything to Arnold Prince. But nice to him so he'd put up the money for your show. How nice were you, Glenway? I hate you. Sorry, darling. Oh, Glenway and Tymblo. Sorry, old man. Shall I leave? Not at all, not at all. I mean, don't rush off about the notices. Shy, darling. Disregard them. Of course the play is bad. The thing to remember is that I've carried worse plays than this. You were younger then. Jealousy rearing its joy. But it's a good thing you're here, Glenway. There's a lot of rewriting and fixing to be done and you might possibly be of some help to me. I have an earth shaking suggestion. Why not just do the play as it was written in the first place? You're questioning my knowledge of the theater. I think you're over the hill, Jack. Pay no attention to this. This scribbler. Mercer Artif. I find your conduct unprofessional, Glenwood. And I find your conduct unbecoming. To your fellow members in the Townsend Club. Bennett Hands. What did you say, Templar? I have been up since dawn trying to prevent a murder about which I now feel almost indifferent. I have foregone my breakfast, but I find myself unable and unwilling to do so another second. If anyone wants me, I should be in the restaurant on the corner saving a life near and dear to me. My own. Farewell, thespians. Mr. Templar. Mr. Templar. Oh, sit down, Mr. Jackson, sit down. But I warn you, if you interfere with my eggs Benedict with Tabasco sauce, you're a dead man. Mercer, phone me the Mr. Templer. He wants you to come to the play tonight. I have seen the play. And every horrible detail is etched with acid on the dark mirror of my mind. You know, you talk just like Mercer. It must be contagious. We just got word, Mr. Templar, the play is closing tonight. A two day run just ahead of the lynch mob. Do you carry insurance on your client, Mr. Jackson? Sure. And put him in another disaster like this. And he'll need it. But what I wanted to tell you, Mr. Templer, was this. Mercer's worried about the prophecy, or whatever you want to call it. He's afraid that something will happen to Shari and tonight's the last night for it to happen. You'll be there, Mr. Templar? Against my complete better judgment, my appreciation of the aesthetic, and in utter disregard of my sanity, I shall be there. Hello, Mr. Templar. Oh, hi, Johnny. Where have you been, huh? Out front. Everything all right back here, Mr. Templer? It's all quiet so far. This is the final scene. The death scene. He plays the violin to her before he stabs her. You think the audience is buying it, Mr. Templar? Well, they haven't stormed the stages yet. It's not a bad or. It wasn't at first. It's Bennett in the rewrite. Now it's all hash. How do you like Shari as an actor? Promising. A bit theatrical, but she should have a good career ahead of her. If nothing happens. Nothing will happen. Hey, there's Prince backstage. I don't like that. I'll keep an eye on him. And there's Lola, too. She's. I know. She's Bennett's first wife. She's bitter because he hasn't paid her alimony for years. Years. Look, look, they're going into the death scene. Yeah, I'm watching, Charlie. Don't let anything happen to her, Mr. Templer. Chari. Hey, what's that on the prop table? Huh? A knife. Well, it's not a real one. It's like the one Bennett stabbed Shari with. A rubber blade. But if that knife is here, what has Bennett got? What? Well, I don't know. Templar. Sorry. Sorry. Look out. Pull down the. Sorry. Shari. Shari. Are you hurt? What happened, Bennett? I. I don't know. I started to stab her like I always do, and. And blood came. I had the wrong knife. Let me. Template. Shari. Shari, baby. How bad is it? Get a doctor, somebody. No, no. No doctors to spoil our last moment, Charles. Just you and me. Oh, it will always be you and me, Shari. Always. No. No. The realization came too late. The bloom with us in the bud. Its fragrance. Secret forever. Sorry. Next week, East Lynn. Simon. Yes, Bennett. How bad is it, Simon? Is it fatal? Tell me. Simon. I can take it. The doctor said he had great difficulty finding the scratch. Scratch? Yes, it was a very minor flesh wound. Shari just couldn't resist playing a deathbed scene. You've got her well trained. Simpler. Do you realize what this will do for three sixes or 17? No. What? Publicity. Reams of publicity. The show will run for months. Where is she? No, she's in her dressing room. Come on. Sorry, Mercer. You've come to say farewell. Get up, you love sick ingenue. Put a bandage on that scratch. You've got a show to do tomorrow. But, Mercy, I'm dying. You couldn't be killed with a meat hat. Wait a minute, Bennett. That's no. And I want to see you about some rewrites, Glenway. As soon as I talk to the press. We're not closing, Mercy. You are closing. What? Whether you like it or not, someone tried to kill. And if the police had to pick a suspect, they would undoubtedly pick you. Yes. Yes, perhaps they would. Perhaps they might even be right. Say nothing about this stabbing to anyone. Run one more night, tomorrow night. And let everyone know the closing is definite. After that. Why? Why one more night? We've got one more night in which to catch a potential killer. See that everyone backstage. Tonight is here tomorrow. Lola, Prince, Jackson, Glenway. And. And you. Certainly, Mercer. Definitely you. They say each man kills the thing he loves. And so I have killed you, my love. But the cruel man, merciful knife, which parts our flesh shall bring us yet together in a Together which is forever. I am ready, officer. Nothing happened. The play's over. Mrs. Hether. Nothing happened. Charlie's safe. Not quite yet, Char. Well, what do you mean? Mr. Furnace, Mr. Tod, we're here. Mr. Kobe, call. No calls tonight. Your call tonight, Sam. None. Are you serious about. Don't ring it up. Joe. Joe, I won't play. Oh, yes, darling. Well, Simon, the roll is over. The play is finished. And the leading man did not kill his leading woman. No, he didn't, Mercer. Come on, Charlie, let's get out of here. No, Charles. Why not, Simon, the play is over. Not quite yet, Mercer. You forget that in your own play, Charlie. The murder occurred at 6 minutes past 11. It's now just 10:45. You're suggesting we stay here until 7? 6 after 11? I'm suggesting it very strongly, Charles. Would you ask Lola, Arnold Prince and Stuart Jackson to join us? They're all backstage. Okay, Mr. Templeton. What are you expecting, Simon? Charley. I'm expecting another attempt on your life. There have been two already. I intend to see that this is the final one. What if it's a success? If my theory is correct? It won't be. The Saint is never wrong, Shari. Are you well? Hardly ever. Let's join the others, shall we? I'm giving a theater Party. How much longer are we going to have to sit here, Templar? Oh, just a few minutes, Mr. Prince. It's after 11 now. I'm getting very dry, Simon, old boy. Patience, Lola, patience. It's creepy in here with everyone gone. I don't like being the bait in a trap. You have a whole squad of protectors, Shari. Except that one of them could be a murderer. Got any theories on the case, Mr. Templer? Oh, a few. Jackson. Three minutes after 11. Well, I guess we've got time to hear some of them. It will pass the time. In this case, the question seems to be motive. Who would profit by killing Shari? Or who would profit by framing Bennett? Here with the killing of Shari, Always presuming that the assailant is not Bennett himself. Thank you, Mr. Arnold Prince. A motive, certainly. I agree with you. A rejected suitor who feels himself used badly. She's a little. Why you. Gentlemen, gentlemen. No violence until 6. After 11. Mr. Prince lost money he could ill afford to lose. He thought he lost Miss Bamcock to Mr. Bennett and so had reason to hate them both. Stick around, Mr. Prince. Don't worry. I wouldn't miss Shari's murder for twice as much dough as I poured in this rattle. Oh, Ms. Lola Enright. A motive, perhaps? Love. Desperate, hopeless love for this road company Barrymore. And hatred for the younger rival. Right, Simon? Couldn't have done it better myself. I'll stick around, Simon. Mr. Mercy Bennett. A strange fixation that he is destined to carry out whatever roles he plays on the stage. A mania, perhaps. I've tried to get him to an analyst, Mr. Templar, many times. Ask him. Shut up, Jackson. Tempers are getting edgy as we approach the hour, Mr. Charles Glenway. One of the best of motives. What? Oh, I might warn you. I don't know if the electrician knows we're still here, though. We might find ourselves in the darkness, Simon, and then it might not happen at all. Let's see, where were we? Oh, yes. Yes. Charles Glendale. Charlie couldn't do it, Sam, and he. All right, all right. Drop it. You drop it or I'm going to break your wrist. Drop it. There. All right, Sam. You can put the lights back on, Sam. Run away, Mr. Templer. There. What happened? Who was it? Jackson? Yes, Jackson. Pick up his knife, Charlie. Sure. Anything to say, Mr. Jackson? Plenty, but not here. Mad fella. But why Jackson Templar? He was my agent. He was making a good living out of me. Not good enough. He was also your business manager. He told you you were paying attimony to all four of your ex wives. Lola hasn't gotten anything in years. Right? Right. This suggested the juggling of your books. And then I'm always suspicious of business managers. Anyway, he also told me he had your life insured. If you were to die for the murder of Shani Babcock, Jackson would be a rich man. And no questions asked about his books either. But why, Jackson? You are still collecting commissions from me. Shall I tell him, Jackson, or will you? I'll tell him. You're just about through, you big ham. You can't play leading men anymore. You're too old. Ah, sharper than the serpent's tooth. The French, they cherc. The Anglo Saxons say cherchez la financial angle. Anything I've left out, Jackson? Yes. I hate actors. I've always hated them. And Bennett I hated worst of all. Sneering at us all the time, running us down behind our back. I hate them. I've always suspected this about agents. I must be more careful. Come along, Jackson. I can get you a long contract with no office. Templar. Yes, Mason? After you turn Jackson in. You didn't give the full story to the papers, did you? The. The full story. Not yet. Why? Don't. Don't. As a favor to me. Oh, but this will be wonderful publicity for your show. It will run forever. I'd rather you didn't. But why Mercy? Well, Jackson's statement about me being too old for Leeds. Of course, it's totally untrue. But if word of a charge like that gets around show business, well, you know it. I see. I see. My lips are sealed. Thanks, Templar. Thanks. Thanks. Maybe the trouble is I'm not wearing a tight enough girdle. Or maybe chin straps while I sleep at night. Actors. You know, Jackson may have been right. 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. It's difficult to comprehend the fact that you can hold life itself in the palm of your hand. The shape it takes isn't particularly dramatic. It's as simple as this. A few coins, a few dollars. Your contribution to the Red Cross, the life you hold is that of some unknown person who will be restored to health through the Red Cross National Blood Program. That program is already in its second year. It still hasn't been fully developed. It still isn't bringing the amazing medicine of whole blood to all those who need it. That won't come without more doctors, nurses, technicians and equipment. That won't come without your help. The only thing that makes it possible for the Red Cross to carry on its mission of mercy. More than 1500 hospitals have been supplied free of charge with blood and blood derivatives. More than half a million pints have already been provided for medical use. And yet this is only part of the Red Cross program. The Red Cross follows in the wake of disasters of all kinds, treating the injured, feeding the hungry and sheltering the homeless. From the Red Cross emanates a network of services to the armed forces, to veterans, to the community as a whole. The complete cost of all these operations for the next year will be $67 million. But the cost to you is whatever you can give to help the helpless. Remember, all of us can help through the Red Cross. This is Vincent Price inviting you to join us again next week at this same time for another exciting adventure of the Saint. Good night. This adventure of the Saints was written by Dick Powell. Our cast included Theodore von Elf as Bennett and Mary Ship as Shoddy. Ed Begley was Jackson, Maggie Morley. Lola Prince was played by Stanley Farrar and Charlie by Bob Clark. Harry Brown was the doorman. The Saint, based on characters created by Leslie Charters, is a James L. Safia production and is directed by Helen Mack. Vincent Price is soon to be seen co starring in RKO's production of his Kind of Woman. All you Saint fans will be glad to know that Mr. Price is guest editor of the January issue of Inside Detective, World's largest selling detective magazine. Your announcer, Don Stanley. Three chimes mean good times on NBC. The chimes are ringing for tonight's broadcast of a big show, radio's greatest spectacle. Your stars for this evening's big show, in addition to the unpredictable Tallulah will be Louis Calhearn, Jimmy Durante, Jack Carter, Martha Ray and many, many more. More for drama. Tonight, Theater Guild on the Air presents a one hour adaptation of the fascinating story Trilby, starring Rex Harrison and Teresa Wright. So remember the Big show and Theater Guild on NBC Now. Frank Sinatra transcribed as Rocky Fortune. NBC presents Frank Sinatra starring as that footloose and fancy free young gentleman, Rocky Fortune. I hear it that a rolling stone gathers no moss. In my case, it is not only moss that I don't gather, but something else which is green. Namely loot with which to buy the little things that make life worth living like food. I am therefore always available for employment. And when the agency sends me up to the Knickerbocker magazine, I am very happy to accept their $48.50 a week less withholding. Excuse me, lady, in which of these glass brick can do I? Find Mr. Walter Potteridge and just open your ears and head for the biggest noise. That's our Walter. I'm telling you. Burke, I want those reviews on time. See what I mean? Thanks, but two weeks in a row I've had the business office after me for missing deadlines. I'm not in business for my health, which is lousy at you. Now, what do you want, Mr. Partridge? It says Partridge on the door. My cufflinks are initial WP And I've got Dear Walter tattooed on my right bicep. Yes, I am Mr. Potter. Okay, who are you? Rocky Fortune. The agency sent me over. Oh. Oh, yes. Well, what do I do? Do you see this sad, broken down, pseudo intellectual? Now, Walter, you're taking unfair advantage. This miserable object is Burke Whittemore, the drama critic of the Knickerbocker Magazine. His reviews are followed with bated breath by middle aged women from Hohokus to Great Neck. There is only one trouble. He has not seen a play in the last three years. But if he doesn't go to plays, how does he review him? Oh, he goes. He occupies an aisle seat in the fifth row. He's there in body, but unfortunately, the spirit has been applied internally. Ah, come on, Walter. Isn't it fitting to pour libations to Dionysius before attending his temple? I'm not worried about Dionysius. I am concerned about the libations being poured into Burke Whittemore. You get the picture, Mr. Fortune? He's on the sauce. That's the general idea, my dear man. Paralyzed, drunk. I can type a better column with my elbow than any other drama critic in the metropolitan area. Just once I'd like to see what you can do while sober. All right, now, Fortune, you understand your job. Look, Mr. Partridge, I am a great connoisseur of the theater arts. I have sat under the Runway of Old Howard in Boston. And similar high tone resorts in Union City, New Jersey. But if you're looking for a drama critic, I think you better get yourself a new boy. Don't be ridiculous, Fortune. I've got a drama critic. What I want is someone who can keep him from falling on his face. Oh, all right. Now, here's your job. There's a new play opening tonight. Trolley in the sky by St. John Maloney. You're to stick with Whittemore from now until curtain time. Just keep him sober and don't let him fall asleep in the show. Your seat will be directly behind his on the aisle. And if he starts to show any Signs of drooping give him a good stiff poke in the back of the neck. Now, see here, Wall. You think you can manage that, fortune? Don't worry, Mr. Partridge. He won't even wink. I got a real dandy rabbit punch I developed at punching rabbits. I am now remembering that this Burke Whittemore is the fellow known on Broadway as the Kiss Of. He has not written a review with a kind word in it since Helen Hayes was playing kid parts with Bloomers showing. But now he's a rum dum senior grade, and I'm hired to make an honest man of him. We head back to Whittemore's office where the job of protecting him from his various follies starts even sooner than I think. But you can't go in there. Get away from that door. Won't you come in, Maloney? I knew I'd find you hiding in here. Whittemore. The Be careful how you swing that cane. All right, Maloney. What's the idea of breaking the glass in my door? Your glass isn't the only thing I'm gonna break. Are you planning to cover my opening tonight with a shroud? With a Moore? I'm warning you. I will not create a sensitive, important, searching drama and have a warped Nibelung tear it to shreds with his pointed teeth. After you reviewed my last play, it ran exactly two performances. A long run for that play. How did it do on the road? Listen, you snake. Bent your malevolent spleen on my new one tonight. So help me, I'll kill you. In fact, I don't think I'll even. Hey, put down that can. Now, a Malacca cane with a silver head is not as heavy as a bulldozer or as high powered as a 6 inch shell. When laid neatly back of the ear, it'll serve. I fold up in a tasteful knot and drill gracefully to the axe minster. Having delivered his ultimatum, Sinjon Maloney turns on his heel, which happens to be on my stomach at the time, and strides out of the office. Fortune, you all right? Oh, what happened to me? We tried to brain me with his cane and caught you on the backswing. That's the trouble with these modern playwrights. No sense of direction, I believe. Course, we'll have to do something about that lump on your head. Shall I call a doctor, Mr. Whittemore? Oh, nonsense. We'll just cover it up with a hat. Fortune, do you happen to possess a homburg? Are you clowning? Well, then we'll buy you one on the Way to the theater. Oh, come on along. Wait a minute. Wait just a minute. Ain't you even gonna call the cops? What for? Didn't you hear Maloney? He said he was gonna kill you. There isn't a playwright worth his sword on Broadway who hasn't threatened to kill me. Come along. Fortune thespis awaits. Mr. Whittemore. Wait. What about your mail? It's been piling up on your desk for days. Good. Pile it alphabetically and burn it. Alice, Bill's nothing but bills. But Mr. Whittemore. Oh. Dear Mr. Fortune, would you take these letters along and try to get him to read them, please? Okay. Here's one that doesn't smell like a bill. Lavender envelope. Fortune. Huh? Oh. Coming, Mr. Whittemore. So I slip the letters in my pocket and away we go. First he insists on buying me a Hamburg hat, and then we head toward the theater. We get there about 40 minutes late. Burke Whittemore collapses in an aisle seat in the first row while I am right behind him in the second. A pint sized blonde named Valerie Carter is emoting all over the stage, but I'm too busy to pay much attention. Already Burke Whittemore is beginning to slide down in his seat. Were I yet another yet? Were I another's other yet? Were I yet. Hey, your other Mr. Whittemore, wake up. Take me for I am no other than your own else. Were I another. Okay, pal, I warned you. Oh, in Fortune you have to do that. Cheer up, Mr. Whittemore. Something might happen. Who knows, her dress might slip. In the first intermission, we struggle through a lobby the size of a phone booth which is occupied by a cloud of smoke and a few thousand people. Whittemore runs up against a sad little man who looks as if his last friend just bit him. This is Judson Flanagan, the producer. A great show tonight. Burke St. John has written a modern masterpiece in verse that third rate carpenter couldn't write a testimonial for an underarm deodorant. Very witty, Burke. Do you like it? I'm using it in my review. Are you writing them in advance now? You've only seen 10 minutes of the play. My dear man, you tried out a new haven. A gentle wind wafted the aroma straight into my office. Listen, Burke, seriously, you've got to be fair. I've got my own money in this show. You must be mad. But Burke, you can't pan it. You just can't. Look, I've done everything I could to please you. I've even starred your favorite actress, Valerie Carter. She was my favorite actress. You should have given the part to Lassie. This thing is really a dog. Burke, I'm desperate. If you cut this show to ribbons, I'll. I'll kill you. We leave Flanagan and fight our way down the aisle. Just as we reach our seats, the house lights go down and the stage is dark too. And as nobody is seated yet, we all kick each other around for a while. Just as I get myself firmly planted, somebody falls in my lap. Oh. Oh, excuse me, monsieur, but you are in my seat. Excuse me, lady, but you're in my lap. Oh, no. This is seat D1. This is B1, lady. Stick around. It's a great seat. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I could not. Pardon. Pardon me. She's a small type, broke, wearing a veil and a mink and smelling of something at 50 bucks an ounce. All in all, she appears to be some dish. And where I'm sitting, which at the time is right under her, however. Cherchez la femme, I always say. At this point, I notice Burke Whittemore is starting to slide again. I reach over and give him the old rigid digit in the back of the neck. Hey, Mr. Whittemore. Hey, wake up. Come on. Where art thou, you? Whose else becomes more present than absent? Mr. Whittemore, wake up, pal. Would that you were not another's other so that I could seek and find you where you are. I'm telling you, Mr. Whittemore, you gotta wake up. Evidently, I have more power on my index finger than I give myself credit for. Whittemore slides out of his seat and rolls into the aisle. I'm down beside him, but it doesn't take me long to head up the aisle to the front of the house. Or I flagged down Judson Flanagan, the producer. Shh. This is the reconciliation scene. It better be the reincarnation scene, pal. Come on outside. I got a flash for you. Huh? Whittemore is stiff in the aisle again. Fortune, you help me get him out. We'll get him some black coffee and bring him to. It'll take more than coffee, Flanagan. He's got a knife burn in his back. Dead. That's impossible. Improbable. Maybe, but nothing's impossible these days. So you better call the cops. Oh, he cut. Called the police. Now, it's only the second act. Look, Mr. Flanagan, I know it may seem like bad theater coming so early in the play, I mean, but there's a corpse in the center aisle Aren't you even interested? Of course. Of course. We'll have to get him out of there before intermission. I guess I ain't getting through. Burke Whittemore is dead. D E D well, give me some change and I'll call him myself. Where's the phone? Right behind you. Oh, yeah? Where's the change? Here. You turning my back on Flanagan was like playing potsy in the Holland Tunnel. He let me have it right on the cowlick with about two and a half tons of smoke. Change in a bag. I figure if I stay on this job much longer, they'll refer to me as Melon Head Fortune. Because I'm beginning to feel distinctly squashy behind the ears. When I come to, I'm on the floor of a small closet with my head sharing a bucket with a slightly damp mop. I stagger to my feet and commence banging on the door. Let me out of here. Get. Let me out of here. I got a right to make one. Telephone. I want my lawyer. What? Rocky Fortune, what are you doing in there? Sergeant Finger of Homicide. As I live and breathe. What are you doing in this closet? Look, Serge, a guy got croaked tonight. A drama critic by the name of Burke Whittemore. How come you know? Because I was sitting in the seat right behind him. Eh, what were you doing there? I was acting as his bodyguard. That's a hot one. Knew that it'd break you up. Look, the guy was a lush. His magazine hired me to keep him on a wagon. He's on the wagon, all right. Only now it's a horse. So you were sitting right behind him when it happened, huh? Yeah, I was. And he got the knife right in the back. That's very interesting. Now, wait a minute. Why'd you do it, Fortune? You know something, Sarge? You are a pilgrim in the path of least resistance. What do you mean by that? You always pin the wrap on the nearest suspect. It saves you so much time. Why not? You had the perfect opportunity, Rocky. Sure, but why would I want to do it? You need a motive, Sarge. A motive. Hey, you're right. Why did you do it? Oh, nuts. Look, why you pick on me? You got any better suspects, Rocco? How about the guy who wrote this Turkey Tonight? How about it, Maloney? Didn't you threaten to kill Whittemore if he panned your play? Certainly I did. I'm only sorry that someone beat me to it. How do we know that someone did? I wasn't even in the theater when it happened. I can't Stand the strain of opening nights. I was in the little bar across the street. We'll check on that. Okay, Rocky. Who else? The producer, Flanagan. He had a fight with Whittemore at intermission time. Just before it happened. Sarge, that doesn't mean a thing. I never left the front of the theater. Says who? Ask my box office man. I was checking receipts with him from the time the second act curtain went up until Fortune came running up the aisle. Well, now, that leaves us right back where we started. Only one suspect. And Rocky. Guess who? Now, take it easy, Finger. Not so fast. Almost anybody in a theater could have done it. The lights were down. All they had to do was walk down the aisle in the dark and. Wait a minute. The brunette. The bru Who? The brunette who sat in my lap. What are you doing? Dreaming again? No, honest. Side. She thought I was sitting in her seat. We had a friendly tussle about it. And then it turned out she was looking for D1 instead of B. When did all this happen? Right after the start of Act 2. Just before Whittemore rolled out in the aisle. Maybe you better chache la femme. Where did you say she was sitting? D1. That's impossible. D1 is a house seat reserved for critics on opening night. But I'm positive she. Look, we had an argument about the seat. Anybody hear the argument? How about you, Ms. Carter? Any of the actors notice a commotion down front? Well, no. But of course, we were all concentrating on our performances. Fortune, why don't you quit trying to feed me all these wild stories? Look, I could prove I was hired as Whittemore's bodyguard. Let me call the magazine, will you? Walter Partridge, a publisher. He'll back me up on it. Okay, then, Fortune, get Partridge over and tell him to fly. Because if he don't, you're going to be my pigeon on toast. By this time. Fingers made the whole thing sound so crazy. Even I am beginning to wonder if there really was a brunette in my lap. Still, this is no time to give up. I feed a diamond to the backstage pay station and inform Knickerbocker Magazine that they have just lost one drama critic. Furthermore, that unless they wish to lose me, too, they better send Partridge over on the wing. As I hang up the phone, I find Valerie Carter waiting in a dressing gown that is made of old butterfly wings. Mr. Fortune? Yeah? Mr. Fortune, could you step into my dressing room just a moment? I'd like to talk to you. So would Sergeant Finger, and he may be getting impatient. Well, well, he ain't got the strange attraction you have. Let the bum wait. Won't you sit down? Thanks. Do you mind if I sit next to you? It's your couch, honey. Mr. Fortune, I don't exactly know how to explain this. You lost something lately? How did you know? Well, I didn't think you were looking for sugar. Just now when I felt that hand in my pocket. Oh, well, then I suppose I better come right out with it. Yeah. It's a letter. Oh, a letter to Mr. Whittemore, you mean? Yes. Maybe the lavender one with the perfume. Yes. May I have it? Why? Well, you see, burke, that is, Mr. Whittemore and I were good friends for years. I'm glad to know he had one friend. In fact, we were even engaged to be married. But we had a silly little quarrel and he said that he was going to criticize my performance. Yeah. Well, naturally, I got very angry. So I wrote this letter and I sent it off. And then I regretted it, of course, and I called his secretary to try and intercept it. And that's how you know I had it on me. Yes. You will give it back to me. You mind if I open the letter first? Oh, no, please don't. It's so foolish, really. And it has nothing to do with what happened in the theater tonight. How do I know that? Well, Mr. Fortune, do I look like a brunette? Well, no. And after all, it happened right in the middle of the play. So may I have the letter, please? Nope. I thought you were a gentleman, Mr. Fortune. Gentlemen are usually dopes. When Finger finds out who the murderer is, you get the letter back unopened. So if you're long enough to make that fool phone call. Fortune. Take it easy, Sarge. Mr. Partridge is on his way over now and he'll put me in a clear. Yeah, it's gonna take more than that. What do you mean? Fortune, you're in is up to your flapping ears. I've been checking out alibis and both Flanagan and Maloney are clean. I guess who that leaves Name somebody. What about the brunette? You know, it's strange. Nobody seems to have saw her but you and a man was sitting in seat D1. Araki, why did you save the state the cost of a trial and convict confess, huh? Maybe I can get you off light with the electric chair. Tell your Finger you are out of here. Hello? Hello, Mr. Partridge. I am so glad to see you, my boy. Will you tell this guy who I am? I don't know who you are. Now, wait a minute. Didn't you hire Me? Today? To look after Burke Whittemore? Yes, I did. And what do you mean by that crack? I don't know who you are. Apparently I should have asked for character references first. I hired you to protect me, Mr. Whittemore, not to let him get stabbed in the back. All right, Rocky boy, let's go down to the station. Before you go, Fortune, I'll take Whittemore's mail. How did you know I had it? Why, I hand it over, Fortune, not so fast. Funny thing, you're the second person to ask about that. Why is everybody so anxious to get their mitts on? Whittemore's mail wouldn't be the lavender letter, would it, Mr. Fortune? What lavender letter? This one. Sage Valerie Carter sent it to Whittemore today. Who knows? We might even find a motive inside. Mr. Fortune, that is not your letter. You have no right. Sarge, listen to this. Dear Burke, it's no use your trying to hold me with threats. It's all over between us and nothing you can say will change my mind. I'm in love with another man, and I advise you not to cross him, Burke. He isn't the kind to let anything stand in his way. Who's the other man? Let me read it, will you? No, you don't. I'll take that. Here, give me that letter. Hey, Partridge, what's the big idea? Grab him, Finger. He's our boy. Before anyone can lay a glove on him, Partridge is across the stage and starting up the iron ladder to the catwalk. Sergeant Finger runs to Beef, so I'm the first one up the ladder after. When I hit the catwalk overhead, he's already touching a match to the letter. Stay away from me. For Joe, unless you can fly, you're a gone ghost, buddy. This catwalk has got a dead end. Stay away. I'm coming to get you. Oh, you. Look out, Pich. You're going over poit. Help me. My hands are slipping. Fortune, I can't hold on. Did you stab W? Did you? Yes. Yes, I did. Louder. I did it. I killed him. Now help me. You hear that, Finger? I heard my hands. I'm slipping. All right, Potter, it's catch out of you. I haul Partridge back up on the catwalk and Frog march him down a Sergeant Finger. I could have been killed, Fortune, you're crazy. All right, Sergeant, you got the confession. I repudiate it. He was threatening my life. That confession will never stand up in the court. Well, maybe not, Mr. Partridge. But now that I got the man and the motive? I got a hunch we ain't gonna need it. There'll be other ways we can pin it on you. Hey, Rocky. What? You think the dame is mixed up in the two Ms. Carter? Nah. If she'd have known Partridge was going to bump him off. Sending that letter was the most stupid thing she could do. Yeah, I guess that's so. Okay, Partridge, let's fly downtown and find you a cage. So, once again, I am afraid. Meaning a man without a job. And all I have to show for it is a new pearl gray humber. Miss Carter? Oh, yes? About that letter. I'm really sorry. You see, I was on the spot. Oh, I. If only I hadn't written that awful letter, that's all. Look, it's been a kind of rough evening and you look a little beat. Would you like me to see you home? Oh, no, no, no. I don't want to put you to any. No, it's not trouble. Just wait till I grab my hat. Here, B1B. That's funny. No hat. It must have fallen under the seat. Oh, well, do you see it now? Yeah. What's the matter? Something stuck me. A bobby pin. How did that get onto my seat? Well, what's so remarkable about that? Nothing but bald headed critics sitting in this row. No dames. Except maybe the brunette who sat in my lap. Only why would a brunette be dropping blonde bobby pins around? She wouldn't. I think you just made that brunette up. I think maybe she made herself up with a brunette wig. But who'd want to do a thing like that? Well, it couldn't have been you. You were on stage. That's right. Come to think of it though, were you there all the time? What about the start of the second act? No, I wasn't. Any other questions? Ms. Carter? You don't happen to smoke a pipe? No, I don't. Then that's a gun in my ribs. It is. You did it, not Partridge. You sneaked around. If you mean that I killed Burke Whittemore, yes. Now why did Podridge take the rap? Because he's in love with me. He must be. Don't worry, he'll come out all right. He can prove he was somewhere else tonight. I wish I could say the same. All right, now start walking. Where? The stage door, Mr. Fortune. Yeah, that was pretty clever. Only don't you think you did this thing the hard way. Why don't you just marry Partridge and tell Whittemore to go whistle up a tree? I couldn't. Burke threatened me with what? Bad review with deportation. I'm in this country illegally, Mr. Fortune. Burke threatened to turn me in if I tried to leave him. Oh, I see. Well, here's the stage drawer. What now? Open it. You got something definite in mind? I have. They'll find you lying in the alley. Won't be the first time. Well, it'll be the last. Open that door. Okay. Here goes. Ms. Carter, I'm glad I caught you. I got a question. Finger. Watch out. Hey, what goes finger? I could kiss your lovely stupid mug. What for? I'd be a dead duck if you hadn't figured this thing out. Figure what out? That you had the wrong man, of course. This dame was about to knock me over. Ms. Carter. You mean she committed the murder? What else? Ain't that why you came back? No, I came back to get her autograph. Autograph? Yeah. My kids are nuts about the theater. Oh, brother. NBC has presented Frank Sinatra as that footloose and fancy three young gentlemen, Rocky Fortune. Others in tonight's cast included Elaine Ross, Leslie Wood, Stots Cotsworth, Arnold Moss, James Monks, Roger de Koven and Bill Zucat. Tonight's script was written by Ernest Kanoy. Fred Wade directed. Now to tell you about next week's adventure, here's Frank Sinatra as Rocky Fortune. Next time I get a job dusting plaster statues in a two bit art shop. Only a turns out somebody figures to dust me off for good. Naturally, there's a blonde and she ain't no plaster statue. You can take it from me. I'll see you around. Bye. This is the NBC Radio Network from Hollywood. It's time now for Johnny Dollar. Ah, how weary, stale, flat and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world. Ah, who's that? Garrett Reynolds. Johnny Reynolds and Trenton. That's right. New Jersey State Mutual Life. Well, what was the quote from Shakespeare about Hamlet, Wasn't it? Alas, I would a tale unfold whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, make thy two eyes like stars dart from their spear. Hey, hey, now wait a minute, will you? My hair to stand on end like quills upon the fretful porpentine. Garrett, have you gone off your rocker? Why don't you come on down here and see? Yeah, I think I'd better. Bob Bailey in the exciting adventures of the man with the action packed expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Dallas. Expense account submitted by special investigator Johnny Dollar to the New Jersey State Mutual Life Insurance Company, Trenton, New Jersey office. Following is an account of Expenses incurred during my investigation of the Heatherstone Players. Matter expense account item 1 9, train fare, lunch and incidentals on the trip from Hartford to Trenton, New Jersey. Item 2, $0.70 Taxi to Garrett Reynolds office. Oh, glad you wasted no time, Johnny. Sit down. I'll get right to the point. Big rush, huh? If I read the signs right, yes. Okay. Whom are you expecting to get bumped off? This here of the Heatherstone Players sounds like a summer theater or a traveling stock company. It's Cyril, Peter St. Peter. George Heatherstone. And he's just as bad as he sounds. An old Shakespearean actor. A real ham. Oh, friends, Romans. Don't. Don't, don't. Don't do it. It'll be bad enough when he gets here. Any minute now. What do you mean? Every other sentence a quote from the immortal bar. Oh, time. You've listened to him for five minutes, you never want to hear of Shakespeare again. Sounds like he might be fun. Fun? He's poison. And if he gets knocked off, it'll cost the company $10,000. All right, come on, tell me off. He keeps traveling around, conducting classes in Shakespeare and putting on occasional performances with the local talent after he gets all their dough from them, that is. Whenever he pulls out of a town, he leaves behind a lot of unpaid bills. No wonder he keeps traveling around. It's no joke. He also leaves behind a lot of enemies and. And a lot of broken heart. He thinks he's Romeo himself or Kazanova. Ah. Anyhow, he's back here in Trenton. He's putting on a Shakespearean festival over radio station wvgr. Oh, well, hey, now, maybe I could join the cast. But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is. Will you cut it out? This is serious. So am I, but go on, go on. There is not one of his three cast or crew there at the radio station doesn't hate every bone in his body except maybe young Joanie Carter. And who is she? Oh, she's the girl he picked to play Juliet. And Ophelia promised her a shining career on the stage and stardom in pictures and that sort of thing. Well, maybe she's good. Oh, don't kid yourself. There's part of his act to charm her away from Charlie Cubberly. And who is he? He's also in the cast. He's getting nothing but bit part. Well, I still see no cause for alarm. Oh, you will, Johnny, if you ever attend one of those rehearse. Look, if they all hate him so, why don't they just Walk on. The old shice has got him tied down to contracts. Must have signed them with their eyes closed. They're stuck with him, Johnny, until the festival is over. Or until somebody kills him. You think it's that serious, Johnny? One way or another, he has taken everybody he's ever come into contact contact with. Even you? Even me. Number of times I've had to go through the operation of changing the beneficiary on his policy. Who is the beneficiary? As of the moment? Joan Carter. The actress you mentioned? The girl I mentioned. He uses the policy as a come on to charm the poor unsuspecting young. What has this day deserved? What has he done that it in golden letters should be set among the high prize of the calendar? What the Sam King John, Me Boy, Act 3, Scene 1 may have for your ple and ear. I should have asked. This churlish fell next to you. Why? For he sent for me this hour. Heather Stone, this is Johnny Dollar. Oh, and here's my hand. And mine, sir, with my heart in uncle. Good man. That's from The Tempest, Act 2. Not that I give you a charge. Look, Heatherstone, I've asked Gollie to act as your bodyguard until this play of yours is over and you can get out of town. Play festival, dear sir, in which the immortal Shakespeare's works beneath my practiced hand shall so enchant. Wait a minute, Stone Garrett, I'm not going to. I said bodyguard. I've received three anonymous notes telling me in no uncertain terms that his life isn't worth a plug nickel around that studio. Threats? Well, just warnings. What matter to quote about. I bear a charmed life. Have you given those notes to the police? Yeah, but I haven't heard back from them. That's why I sent for you in such a hurry. How fitting that my end should come there on stage, so to speak. What? Blow, wind. Come rack. At least I'll die with harness on me back. It is the same a friend that I'll die with me boots on. Yeah, I got that. Has anybody threatened you in person? Heather Stone? Yeah. And what about that girl Joan? And the way Charlie Coverly? I hope you he makes the vault a feasting presence full of life. Oh, listen, will you? I'm talking about Charlie, the boy she's thrown over for you and your phony promises. That boy's crazy enough with jealousy to try almost anything. Ah, he's mad, right? That he is mad is true. Tis true. Tis pity and pity. Tis. Tis true, Heatherstone. He's mad enough to Kill you. And so some of the others. I've heard you're pretty rough on your cast of actors, on your crew. Well, I must be cruel only to be kind. Now, what's that supposed to. They're so ambitious, all of them, but so inadequate, so futilely do they attempt to gain the highest talent of this art with which I am so rich and now. All right, all right. Look, please. Apparently Garrett feels that your life is in danger. I'm sure of it. And as long as I've come all the way down here, I'll take his word for it that every one of your associates has a serious personal reason for wanting to see you out of the way. What private griefs they have. Alas, I know not. Listen, will you? This I do avow Featherstone. Don't you care that somebody's out to get you? My cast? My crew, you say? Yes. Ah, me stands not within the prospect of belief. Look, the fact remains. And yet, if twere true, then I must bear a countenance more in sorrow than in anger. In gratitude toward me who've given them so much. Believe me, it is true. That's why I insist you have somebody to look out for you until you can get out of town. These words are razors to me. Wow. That's why I sent for $. This man? Yes. Let me have men about me who are. There we go again. And such as sleep a night. Yandala has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous. Will you shut up? And yet suppose I am to die? Believe me, if it weren't for the 10,000 it had cost the company. I sometimes think I'd like to take care of that little matter myself. And you would be found out. That's what you think then. Dala. Look upon his face I quote. So full of art was jealousy as guilt. It spills itself in fear and the blood. All right. The fact remains that in spite of what Garrett says, you're determined to go ahead with this play, this festival of yours. I am. In spite of the threats on your life? Why not? All but live must die. Passing through nature to eternal. Okay, okay. When's your next rehearsal? Well, this afternoon. But, sir, Station wvgr, right? Correct. But, sir, I'm going to be there. To interfere with me at work? No, no, no, no. To hide in a corner and see if all this fuss over you is justified. To see if the atmosphere down there is as thick as Garrett says it is. You either take on this case or not. Depending on whether I Think your life's really in danger? Oh, Johnny, his life has been in danger for years. Of course you admit it. By that I do so Therefore harm, if harm they could have done, would long ago have caught me in its grass. Yeah, well, maybe you've just been lucky. I. In the past, I quote, treason has done his worst. Nor steel, nor poison, malice, domestic, foreign levy, Nothing, nothing can touch me further. Oh, Lord. And with that thought, I bid thee now adieu. Yeah, well, goodbye. And yet, perhaps for best we talk this out, I quote to fear the worst of yours. The worst. Good day, gentlemen. Yeah. You want a drink? Garrett, that is the craziest clown I've ever met. But I still don't really see what you're worried about. That's because all you've seen is. Is the amusing side of him. But I tell you, Johnny, look, did you mean that about going over to the studio? Yeah, sure. And frankly, more to see how a radio show is put together than anything else. Then I'll arrange for you to sit in the control room with the engineer. The fellow who keeps the voices and sound effects and music and things in balance. Great. I'll have a ball. Yeah. But you'll see why I sent for you. Why I'm so sure somebody's going to murder Heather Stone. If I didn't know you so well, Garrett, I'd think you were planning to do it yourself and call me in as a cover up. You know something, Johnny? Well, I'll call the studio, make arrangements for you. I couldn't help feeling that Garrett's own resentment of Cyril Heatherstone was for a lot more than the mere fact he'd have to revise his policy a few more times. But if so, he wouldn't admit it to me. Item three is hour 25. Taxi to the studios of WBG. There I was escorted backstage, so to speak, to the control room. It was a small room facing into the main studio through a large soundproof plate glass window. And it was loaded with complicated equipment before the control panel with its knobs and keys and dials. At Gordon Mitchell, the engineer and nice looking chap in his 30s. Through the window we could see Heatherstone and the cast gathered around the table working on the scripts. Sit here right beside me. Dollar and you can see and hear everything that goes on in there. Oh, well, sure. Thanks, Gordon. Is. Is that microphone sitting in the middle of the studio there? The one they use when they're on the air? Yeah, that's one of them. There's one over there beside all that Equipment for the sound effects man. Oh, yes, I see. And then there's another one in that booth over against the wall. And what's that for? Two isolated for special voice effects. One, a voice coming over telephone, things like that. A filter mic. Oh, I see. And then the one hanging over the table where they're reading will be for the orchestra when it comes in later. Uhhuh. Say, you have a lot of stuff to balance when you're doing a show, haven't you? More knobs and dials and stuff. You see here, this knob controls the mic over their table out there. Listen, I'll fade them in, walk through the line, stretch out to the crack of doomed. Well, I. Well, Charlie Coverly plays one of the small. Well, Clark. Oh, well. Well. Idiot. Well, you said to get everything we could out of the line, but I did, so I added a couple of words to make the speech sound. You added to Shakespeare? Well, I thought. There we go. Dog listen to his own words. To guild refiner gold to paint the lily to throw a pop you on the violet. He's wasteful and ridiculous. Excess. Remember that and stop being ridiculous. You heard enough dollar. We'll cut it off. A gentleman, brother. He really tears into them, doesn't he? Believe me, that was nothing. Donna, he's the most hated man in this town. So I've heard. So I've heard. Pretty fast dealer, too. You're not kidding. He sure nicked me. How do you mean? All my savings, you know, Invest in this Shakespearean festival. He'll get a sponsor. We'll all make a million. Well, if it wasn't for the Beneficial Finance Company, I'd be on my uppers that way, huh? And poor Charlie out there not only lost his shirt to Cyril, but his girl, too. That little blonde beside him. The one who's talking now. Yeah. Listen, I'll open the mic again. That's about it. My. You go ahead. There's. There's rosemary. That's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there's pansies. That's for thought. There's fennel for you. And here's some for me. We may call it herb Grace O Sunday. Wonderful to make the role of Ophelia live if you don't get pawing her hands. Silence. Unhand me, sir. I'm silent. Yes. Charles, you mustn't interrupt, see? Oh, you mustn't. Quite so. Yes. Where's your humility? Charged before me, the master. Remember this common proof that loneliness in young ambition's ladder. Sorry, darling, I can't Take it, Gordon. That guy is the most egotistical character I've ever seen. He isn't going to live long. Who are you thinking of? Any of that group out there and the sound crew and the musicians. There isn't one of them hasn't got murder in his eye. I told the insur. What were you gonna say? Well, I. I sent a couple of notes to Cyril's insurance man. He's an old friend of mine. Oh. I didn't sign him because I didn't want to get involved, but I told him what I'm telling you. Somebody's gonna kill that guy out there unless you. Or. Wait a second. Watch. You would sit and gossip in there when there's work to be done. Oh, sorry, Cyril. Mr. Heatherstone. Irresponsible. Loud. This is rehearsal. The talk back's too loud. Of course it's too quiet. Now it's too loud. Sounds as though you're shouting at me. And that I will not have. Okay, sorry. Believe me, you will be sorry. This task is done. Believe me, I am sorry. I forgot. I shall rehearse my lines as Hammer farel's ghost. You may learn how Shakespeare should be. Rent in the filter mike in order me to. Yes, sir. Right in the isolation booth. Very well then. Hearken all of you to the great line from the lips and heart of a great astar. Notice the hair shaped toe. Bravely likes himself, doesn't he? Look at those kids. Look at their eyes. See what I meant a minute ago? There's murder in them. Who's that came in the door? The back door of the isolation booth. Well, that's one of the sound effects man. He takes care of it. Hi, boys and girls. How's the old island? Now, is this microphone on and working properly? Well, Mitchell, Yeah, it's on. But work a little closer to it, will you? And with a bit less voice. You tell me how to use a microphone. Now quiet, all of you. Well, what's he waiting for? The mood dollar the moon. Come on, come on, you old ghost. I am thy father's spirit, doomed for a certain term to work the night and for the day confined to fast in fires till the foul cry. D Tell me he's forgotten his wife, hence horrible. Sh. That's not the script. Thy drugs are quick. What is this? My dismal scene? I means, must act alone. Past hope, past cure, past help. Wait a minute. I conquer a path of gods to get them. What's happening? I don't know. $I. Oh God, I'm so lame. He's dead. He's dead. Act two of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. In a moment. Who among us has not hoped for a better life? Who has not had a desire to help stamp out disease and suffering among more unfortunate people throughout the world? Many have wanted to help, and many have done so. That sort of work is going on everywhere. Everywhere there is hope for freedom and a better life. Outstanding in this field of activity is Project Hope, which operates from a converted U.S. navy hospital ship called, appropriately enough, the Hope. The good ship Hope carries out its mission of mercy in Far Eastern waters. Wherever doctors, nurses, dentists, sanitation and public health experts are needed. The Hope steams full speed ahead and gives what help it can. In addition to giving medical aid, the staff of the Hope works with local doctors to acquaint them with the newest of medicines and medical procedures. At the same time, the staff of the Hope learns a great deal about the symptoms and the cures of diseases with which they have had no previous contact. When the Hope was in the United States Navy, it was called the Consolation. And it is certain that the people who now operate her will give both consolation and hope to those who are suffering. Consolation, hope, and a new life. For wherever the hospital ship Hope is anchored, its staff is to make emergency trips to scenes of disasters and epidemics. Their services include a wide variety of skills, from removing a tumor from a child's neck to putting a bandage on an old woman's cut finger. But most importantly, with the Hope comes friendship and understanding. Good medicine for healthy freedom, which is the right of all men and everywhere. And now, act two of yours truly, Johnny Dollar and the Heather Stone Players matter. Cyril Peter, St. George. Heatherstone was dead, there was no doubt about it. And the old Shakespearean actor had died muttering the words of the immortal bar there at radio station WBGR in Trenton, New Jersey. When he fell in the isolation booth at one side, I immediately rushed into the main studio. Check the dead man's body is closed. I searched every nook and cranny of the isolation booth and came up with nothing. He's dead. Daryl is dead. It's terrible. It's terrible. Is it? Well, I'm glad he's dead. He's had it coming for a long, long time. Oh, stop it, Joan. Stop it. But he was going to make me an actress, a great actress, a star. Oh, don't kid yourself, Joan. He was taking you like he took the rest of and me. I'm glad to see him lying there. Who are you, huh? Don Ringo, sound effects man. I just came in in time to. Hey, wait a minute. Who are you? Johnny Dollar, insurance investigator. Investigator? That's right. Gordon. Yeah, Dollar, that phone in the control room, can you call outside on it? Sure. Then call headquarters. Get somebody from Homicide over here. Right yard. Don. Yes, sir. I want you to stay right here by this isolation booth. Make sure that nobody say who, by the way, opened the door of this booth. What? I did, Mr. Dower. Did you touch his body? No. Oh, no, I hope not, because. What's the matter, Mr. Dower? What is it, Mr. Dower? Well, at least I know what killed him. Yeah. What? Don, you stay here. Okay. The rest of you, back to the rehearsal table. I want to talk to you. It was so faint. I wasn't quite sure for a second. But there was no doubt about that order that came from the isolation booth. Like peach blossoms, only more delicate and more deadly. It was the odor of potassium path. And I'm glad the trace of it was faint, because one good whiff at full strength would kill almost instantly. Had killed. I'd left Don Ringo there at the booth to watch him, see if he might made any move toward Heatherstone's body. But Don had been the last one near him before he died. All right. Now, officially, there's nothing I can do until the police get here. You. You said you know what killed him, Mr. Dollar? Yes, Potassium Pearson, Charlie. Ever hear of it? Well, no, of course not. One tiny crystal, if swallowed, kills instantly or a single whiff of it when it's heated, vaporized, same thing. You think maybe he committed suicide, Mr. What do you think, John? What do you mean? Doesn't sound like Heather stone to me. $kill himself. All right, so he needed help from someone in this room. And Don, you were the last one near him. Oh, wait a minute. Okay, okay. Charlie. Yes, sir? Can you think of anybody here who might have had a better motive for killing Heather Stone than you? No. No, I can't, Charlie. I wanted to see that phony, egotistical shyster dead mortal than anything else in the world. But I wouldn't have killed him. Well, I would, Charlie, gladly. And I make no bones about it. Police will be here any minute, $. Good. How about your feelings in the matter, Don? Sure, I'm glad he's been knocked off, but don't accuse me of having. I'm not accusing anybody yet. This is kind of funny. The only one who admits he would have killed Heather Stone is Gordon here. But he was in the control room with me. Not only when it happened, but long before it happened. And potassium Patent doesn't wait. The rest of you, though, were right here next to Heatherstone. Any one of you could have slipped the stuff to him before he walked into that isolation booth. Yeah, but how would we have made him take it? That's a good question. Did you find any of that potassium, whatever it is, in the booth? No, but I got a good whiff of it. You said it had to be vaporized for the Payton gas to do its work. Yes. $, could a capsule of it have been tossed into the booth or maybe left in there for him to step on? Then where's the capsule, Gordon? I went over that booth with a fine tooth comb. Jones. Yes, Mr. Dallas? Are you the only one who touched him before I came in from the control room? I didn't touch him. I told him. But you were the only one who went into the booth, weren't you? Yes. The only one who could have removed any evidence of the means used to get that vaporized Payton in there. Mr. Dollar, if you're saying that Joanie had anything to do with. What's the matter with you? Didn't you know that she was a. She was in love with. All right, Charlie, all right, take it easy. I. I thought I loved him. Charlie, honey. I guess it took this to. To bring me to my senses. Joanie. Oh, Joanie. All right, look, we've got a murder on our hands, and unless the police are able to come up with more than I have. Well, but they weren't. The doctor who came along with Lt. Harper agreed with my conclusion that Heather Stone had died from a hefty whiff of Payton gas. But neither of them could find any possible source of the gas. Even after thorough inspection of the isolation booth, the studio and every one of us in it, nothing did it? Finally, after some four hours of futile questioning, there was murder. All right, Dollar, no question about it. Any suspects, Lieutenant? Any suspects? All of them. Every one of them. Except maybe the guy who was in the control room with you, Lieutenant. That should make him number one in the list. You've been reading too many mystery stories. Oh, look, Lieutenant, how much longer are we gonna have to stay around here? You anxious to get away? What's your name? Ringo. Well, I mean it. After all, you know, Inspector, would there be any harm in putting my equipment away? What equipment? Oh, mics and mic cables, patch connections on the board and the control room, so on. You see any reason, Dolly? No. Go ahead, Gordon. Thanks. A little tired of just standing around. What about us, Lieutenant? Is it doing any good to keep us here? Look, somebody in this place killed Heather Stone. Yeah, but you're not getting anywhere finding out who it was. Are we all under suspicion? Yeah. Excuse me, Dollar, you're standing on this mic cable. Oh, sorry. I asked you a question, Lieutenant. The answer is yes. Yes, you're all under suspicion. But what good is keeping us here? You rather be locked up? Excuse me again, Dollar. Now, this cable. Oh, sure. Hey, now, wait a minute. That's the cable for the mic in that booth. Yeah, that's right. Excuse me. Yeah, go ahead and take it away, Gordon. Those mics all stay in the studio. Yes, sir. Oh, if you ever want to inspect them. Inspect them? What? For what? Oh, I didn't know. Maybe I know, Gordon. What? This cable to the booth, Mike, it's thicker than the other. Oh, yeah? Probably an old one. Or maybe it's bigger because it has a couple of extra leads in it. Extra wires. Yeah, the old ones did. That's why. Come on, Lieutenant. Huh? You too, Gordon. Got a screwdriver? Sure, in my pocket. There you are. Pliers, too, if you want them. I don't understand. Why this mic in the booth? Oh, careful, Mr. Dollar. That's pretty delicate. Then you do it. Take the faceplate off this mic. Sure. Why? Yeah, darling. Potassium patent. A crystal of potassium patent vaporized in this booth. Oh, sure, but you gonna tell me how? Maybe I'm just guessing, but I think so. Go ahead, Gordon. Yes, sir. I still don't. There you are. Well, there's the insides of it. Yeah, that's gone. As if. Look. This tiny ball of fused metal. All that's left of a heating element that was melted away inside this mic, thanks to the extra wires in that cable. Oh, it's probably just a little piece. Piece of stuff. Look at the color. A livid red, typical of the action of potassium Payton. On fused metal, huh? On the heating element that was placed in the mic and destroyed by a surge of current through it. Hey, that color. That's right. You're right. Well, then, the one man who didn't hesitate to say how he felt about Heatherstone, who said he would kill him, who warned us, and the one man with an alibi because I was there in the control room with him. I suppose you disconnected the power leads to that cable when you went into the control room to call the police, didn't you, Gordon? Yeah, Mr. Dollar, you guessed right again. But it was a good try, wasn't it? No flight of angels will sing him to his rest. So that was it. And the company will have to pay the claim expense account total including incidentals and fare back to Hartford 5125. Yours truly, Johnny Dollo. Now here is our star to tell you about next week's story. Next week, the yours truly matter, and I give you one guess about the name of the victim. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, starring Bob Bailey, originates in Hollywood. It is produced and directed by Jack Johnstone, who also wrote tonight's story. Heard in our cast were Virginia Greg, Lawrence Dobkin, Dick Krena, Sam Edwards, Frank Gesel, Herb Viran and Hans Conre. Be sure to join us next week, same time and station for another exciting story of yours truly, Johnny Doll. We just heard Sherlock Holmes, Philo Vance, the Saint, Rocky Fortune and yours truly, Johnny Dollar. That will do it for this week's show. Thanks so much for joining me. I hope you'll be back next week for more Old Time Radio crime fighters. In the meantime, you can check out Starz on Suspense, my other Old Time radio podcast. New episodes of that show are out on Thursdays. If you like what you're hearing, don't be a stranger. You can rate and review the show in Apple podcasts or wherever you listen. And if you'd like to listen, lend support to the show, you can visit buymeacoffee.com Meansts OTR. Next time, more mystery from the golden age of radio. Until then, good night and happy listening. Now here is our star, Vincent Price. Ladies and gentlemen, in a prejudice America, no one would be secure 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. Country let's judge our neighbors by the character of their lives alone and not on the basis of their religion or origin.