 New post-war old Dutch cleanser, famous for chasing dirt, present. Nick Carter, famous for chasing crime. Every week at this time, two great names are joined, as New post-war old Dutch cleanser brings you one of the most resourceful and daring characters in all detective fiction. Nick Carter, master detective. Something terrible has happened. So I found out too late to stop you, huh? Too? What do you mean? You're going to tell me that you've had another period of temporary insanity, aren't you? Yes. Yes, that's right. I don't remember what happened, but when I came out of it, I... I found this knife in my pocket. Yes. I expected that. Those stains on it. Carter, they're blood! Now for the case of the Barefoot banker. Today's adventure starring Lon Clark as Nick Carter brought to you by a new post-war old Dutch cleanser. It's four o'clock on a Monday afternoon and Arthur Colby, portly, dignified and respected, walks through the huge bronze doors of the Colby Trust Company and crosses to the curb where a uniformed chauffeur opens the door of his limousine. I won't need the car just yet, Marvin. I think I'll walk a few blocks before going home. Yes, Mr. Colby? Don't close the car door yet, though. I want to get in for a moment to take off my shoes. I beg pardon, sir? To take off my shoes. It's such a fine day. I think I'll walk barefoot. Mr. Colby Barefoot on Park Avenue? Yes. Good idea, isn't it? I can't imagine why I never thought of it before. Do such a thing. You, of all people... I tell you, I don't know, Lord. I can't even remember it. It was like waking from a sound sleep to find myself in the street, crowds laughing at me. Can you blame them? Richard, keep quiet. Yes, Mr. Deer. In that newspaper photographer, I tried to smash his camera. And you only succeeded in giving him a better picture than he'd hoped for. It's on the front page of every tabloid in time. Don't remind me of it. You with your Homburg hat, striped trousers and bear tootsies swinging that gold-headed cane at the camera. You shut up. Arthur Deer, please don't get excited. We'll all forget that it ever happened. Yes, why don't you relax, old boy? Here, have a cigarette. One of those Turkish atrocities of yours? No thanks. I'll stick to my pipe. Seth? Not now, Richard. Aren't we swanky these days? Monogram cigarettes, no less. Yes, yes. They're not paid for either, by the way. Could you let me have a couple of hundred, Lorna? I'm stone broke. Only you're going to quit sponging on your sister. Well, if you'd make me a decent allowance, it wouldn't be necessary. Richard, you should be ashamed. Arthur's done a great deal for you. I know. And he never lets me forget it. Well, if you don't like living in my house... Oh, but I do. I do. It's very convenient to have a sister with a rich husband, even though he is a bit eccentric. Well, I am not eccentric. I was trying to be polite. Most people would have said balmy. Richard, that's enough. Well, it's not as if this were the first crazy thing he'd done. How about the way he hides things all over the house? And the time he put the goldfish in the wall safe. If that isn't a sign of something not quite right... Get out of here! Get out of here! Very well. I'll go. You'd better watch out, Seth, or you may wake up some morning with your throat cut. Wait! Arthur, dear, now don't pay any attention to him. Yes. Maybe he's right. Perhaps I am losing my mind. Oh, that's nonsense. You're only tired and nervous. What if, during one of these mental blackouts, I should harm you? Don't even think about it. Tomorrow we'll see Dr. Henderson... Arthur, what's the matter? There's something in this humidor. Something buried in the tobacco. Buried in the tobacco? Look, it's my watch. The one I lost two days ago. Well, maybe you didn't put it there, darling. It might have been Richard playing a joke on you. I'll get it there myself. I remember now. But, Arthur, why? I don't know. Everon helped me, Lorna. I don't know. I should like to buy a knife. Is that a kitchen knife? I believe so. Yes, a kitchen knife should do nicely. What kind, sir? Pairing knife, butcher knife, carving knife. Butcher knife? Yes, a large butcher knife. Now we have them at various prices. The price doesn't matter. Just so it has a sharp edge. A very sharp edge. You see, it's for my wife. And that was the knife they found under your pillow, Mr. Colby. Yes. I don't remember putting it there. I don't even remember buying it. And you ought, Nick, to protect your wife against what you might do in the future, Mr. Colby. No, I told you all this, Carter, so that you'd understand the circumstances. What I want you to do is find the sum of money I mislaid during another of these spells. Oh, how much money? Twenty thousand dollars. Well, quite a bundle. Why did you lose it? Yesterday. Tell her if my bank said I drew a personal check for twenty thousand at about two thirty. And did you? I examined the check this morning. It's my signature, all right. But you don't remember signing it? I don't remember anything from about two o'clock until I arrived home at five. Go on. I left the building at three, but when I went or what I did, I don't know. Then you don't know whether you were robbed or lost the money or gave it away? I'm more inclined to think that I hid it somewhere. I... I do hide things lately. Hmm. Well, I'll see what I can do. But frankly, I think there's only one thing that'll get your money back. What's that? Luck, Mr. Colby. Just plain sheer luck. Patsy, there's something wrong with Colby's story somewhere. Huh? What do you mean wrong? It doesn't ring true. I'm no psychiatrist, of course, but I've always understood these mental cases followed a definite pattern. Well? The pattern isn't right. Up until now, he's been hiding little things about the house. Oh, twenty thousand dollars isn't a little thing. Not in my dictionary. No, mine. But he didn't hide it in the house this time, either. Yeah. That's one thing. And this business of buying a knife and hiding it, it's completely outside the pattern. Do you think he's lying? It certainly doesn't make any sense that he should try to railroad himself into an asylum. Unless... Unless what, Nick? Unless he's planning something big. And all this is just a build-up so that he can plead temporary insanity. You mean... something like murder? Well, it could be. You have the name of Colby's psychiatrist? Yes, it's Dr. Miles Henderson. Try to get me in a form of it, Dr. Henderson. Let's find out whether he thinks Colby might be faking. Okay. Oh, and ask him to have Mrs. Colby there, too, will you? Perhaps she can tell us how her husband acts during these so-called periods of forgetfulness. Why did you ask me here, Mr. Carter? Has Arthur done anything violent? No, no, no. No, Mrs. Colby, nothing like that. Yes, and just what is this all about? I'm coming to that, Dr. Henderson. You see, Mr. Colby has retained me to recover some money that he thinks he's hidden and forgotten about. Is that so? How much money? $20,000. $20,000? Yes. He said he drew it out of the bank during a period of amnesia yesterday afternoon and he didn't have it when he got home. Why... You were going to say something, Mrs. Colby? Uh... No, no, I was surprised, that's all. You shouldn't be. I warned you that his condition was getting worse. You have a cigar, Mr. Carter. No, no, thank you. I believe I will. It's a rather large knife to use as a cigar cutter. Oh, I don't think so. I picked it up in the Orient several years ago. Oh, I see. Uh, Dr. Henderson, you've been treating Mr. Colby for some time, haven't you? Only about two months. At first he complained of headaches and absent-mindedness. Then he began to find his personal belongings in odd places with no recollection of putting them there. How about these periods of amnesia? They started three weeks ago, and they're getting progressively worse. At first he did silly things, but now his actions are becoming more ominous, such as buying that butcher knife and hiding it under the pillow, you mean? Exactly. For her own safety, I've been trying to persuade Mrs. Colby that her husband should be placed in an institution. And I can't believe that's necessary. I won't believe it, not until... Until it's too late, perhaps. Richard keeps at me about it too, until sometimes I think I'll go mad. And who's Richard? My younger brother. He lives with us. Well, I'm afraid Richard's right. He isn't right. You know what he's thinking of, Doctor? Money. Just a minute. I'm afraid I don't follow this. I love my brother, Mr. Carter, but I know his faults. He thinks if Arthur were in an asylum, I'd control Arthur's money. I see. Tell me, Dr. Henderson, have you ever observed a case quite like Mr. Colby's before? In my own experience, no. But the pattern of the behavior is... It's not really unusual. That's what I was really wondering about. Up to this point, Mr. Colby's condition corresponds exactly to that of a French editor described by a Dr. Wilhelm Schweigert in his book, Psychopathic Phenomena and Dabberations. On this other case, did it start and develop in the same way? Step by step, they are exactly similar. That's why I'm so positive Mr. Colby should be confined. Why? What happened to the French editor? He murdered his best friend. Did you find out anything from your conversation with Dr. Henderson yesterday, Nick? That's enough to make me even more curious. Patsey, I want you to get me a book. It's called Psychopathic Phenomena and Dabberations by a Dr. Wilhelm Schweigert. Nick, I'm sorry, but I can't find that book you asked where I've called every publisher and bookseller in town. Nobody ever heard of it. I don't think there is such a book. In that case, Patsey, get me the County Medical Association. I see. Thank you very much, Dr. Wilson. What do you say, Nick? You're right, Patsey. There is no such book. And there never was a Dr. Wilhelm Schweigert. Well... Not only that, the Medical Association has no record of any such person as Dr. Miles Henderson. Carter, you've got to help me. Something terrible has happened. So I found out too late to stop you. What are you talking about? You're going to tell me that you've had another period of temporary insanity, aren't you? Yes, last night I started with my club, about eight, and then I went to the hospital any more until I awakened in my own room this morning. And during this so-called period of forgetfulness, what did you do? Murder your wife? No. No, thank heaven, Lorna's all right. But look what I found in my pocket this morning. Why? Well, that's Dr. Henderson's paper knife. I saw it on his desk yesterday afternoon. Yes, I must have been there last night. And these stains on the knife. They're blood. That's what I mean, Carter. I'm afraid I... killed the doctor. Well, instead of being part of Colby's plan to cover up a murder, the false Dr. Miles Henderson, it appears, has himself become Colby's victim. We'll see what happens next in just a moment. Now, back to the case of the Barefoot banker. Today's adventure with Nick Carter brought to you by new post-war Old Dutch cleanser. When Arthur Colby recovered from his latest period of amnesia, he found in his home a bloodstained paper knife belonging to the man who called himself Dr. Miles Henderson's psychiatrist. Nick and Patsy have gone to Henderson's office in his suburban home to see what really happened. Well, Patsy, he's been stabbed already. I'll see. You know, with this sort of a wound, it strains that Colby didn't have any blood stains on his clothing. Maybe he was wearing something else last night. Oh, possibly. Huh. Must have talked for quite a while and the swelling took place. What makes you think so? Disasteries. One on the doctor's side of the desk and another by the chair at this end. Judging by the amount of ash... What's the matter, Nick? Patsy? These are cigarette ashes. So what? Colby smokes a pipe and a doctor smokes cigars. Oh, but Nick, where are the cigarette stubs? There aren't any. No. At first, I thought Colby was framing an alibi. You mean Henderson might have been stabbed by someone else? Someone who smokes cigarettes? Exactly. There must have been something unusual about those cigarettes. Otherwise, why would the stubs have been taken away? Maybe you can tell from the ashes. Hey, wait. Huh. Here's a few shreds of tobacco. Good. We'll take them down to the police laboratory for analysis. Okay. Is there anything else to be done here? I want to take a look at this filing cabinet. They will case histories. The names of some of Dr. Henderson's other patients. Well, I'll get a pencil and write them down for you. That won't be necessary, Patsy. Huh? Looks as if Colby was the only patient to a fake Dr. Head. You mean... a file is empty? Not quite. Look what I found here. A lot of money. Certainly is. I think we found out what happened to Colby's $20,000. You mean... I gave the $20,000 to Dr. Henderson during my spell of amnesia? I don't think it was amnesia, Mr. Colby, nor insanity, either. Carter, what are you driving at? Tell me, how did you happen to start going to Henderson? I... I met him at the house one night. Who brought him there? I don't know. It was a big party. Many of the guests were strangers to me. Friends of Lorna's, friends of Richard's. How's he going? Go on. Well, Henderson mentioned being a doctor and a psychiatrist, so I told him about the headaches I'd been having. He suggested I come to see him the next day. And I did. And that's when your real trouble started, wasn't it? Yes. Those headaches were the first symptoms, he said. What kind of treatments did he give you? The usual routine, I suppose. I'd talk about my problems, and he'd explain the hidden meanings in what I said. Wasn't there ever anything else? Well, sometimes he'd give me a sedative first, and he'd talk to me until I fell asleep. He said he'd relaxed me for the actual treatment. Ah, yes. After one of those treatments, you'd pull some ridiculous stunt, wouldn't you? Didn't you tell me the doctor was responsible for the spells I'd been having? Colby, he wasn't a doctor, he was a fake. What? And unless I'm mistaken, the reason for your peculiar actions was not insanity. You were hypnotized. This is the garage, sir. My room's directly above. And if anybody had taken one of these cars out last night, you'd have heard it, wouldn't you, Marvin? Yes, sir. I did. You did? Then one of the cars was gone last night? Yes, miss. I got 11.30 and brought it back a couple hours later. According to the medical examiner, that's just about the time Henderson was killed. How do you know it was Mr. Colby, Marvin? I know the sound of the motor, sir. It's quite different from the other. I didn't ask about the car. How did you know Colby was driving it? Because it's Mr. Colby's personal car. But you didn't actually see him. I... No, sir. That's what I wanted to know. Thanks, Marvin. Well, Nick, what now? We're going up to the house, Missy, for a little friendly conversation with a killer. Isn't this rather useless, Mr. Carter? We all know what happened. My brother-in-law killed Henderson in a fit of temporary insanity. I still want to know whether anyone left the house last night at 11.30. Can you tell me, Mrs. Colby? No, I'm afraid not. My room is in the east wing. Too far away to hear the front door. How about you, Mr. Reigns? 11.30, I was sound asleep. I'm sorry we can't be of more help. Will anyone have a cigarette? No, thanks, Richard. Mr. Carter? Miss Bowen? These are rather special if you like all Turkish tobacco. Nick, don't you... Arnold, thanks. I don't smoke. I wonder whether I may make a phone call, Mrs. Colby. Of course. Richard will show you where the phone is. Well, while you're making that call, Nick, I'm going to work on a little idea of my own. What sort of an idea, Betsy? Never mind. But I may have a surprise for you. I hope Marvin doesn't come in the garage and catch me snooping around Mr. Colby's car. He might think I'm stealing it. But there must be an ashtray in the car. And if there are any stubs from those special cigarettes and it's a kind of Richard's smokes, it'll prove who took this car out last night. Yeah, here's the ashtray. Darn it, it's empty. Going for a ride, my dear? Mrs. Colby, I... I thought I'd like to watch a detective at work. So I followed you. Oh, well, I... that is Nick's the detective, not me. I... well, I just wanted to see what it felt like to sit behind the wheel in such a beautiful car. Do you like it? Oh, it's wonderful. I... I have funny. What's funny? The rear-view mirror. I can see through the back window perfectly. That's what rear-view mirrors are for, isn't it? Yes, but for Mr. Colby is tall. If he'd driven this car last night, the mirror wouldn't be adjusted to fit me. Get out of that car. So I was right. It was Richard. How clever of you, Miss Bowen. But I can't let you tell anyone what you've learned. Mrs. Colby, put down that wrench, please! Nicely done. The skin isn't broken. Her hair will cover the bruise. I'm afraid your meddling has caused an unfortunate accident, my dear. So foolish to start a motor in a closed garage. People die that way. And as Mrs. Colby closes the garage door, Patsy lies unconscious behind the wheel of Arthur Colby's car with the motor running. We'll see what happens in just a moment. Now for the conclusion of the case of the Barefoot Banker. Today's adventure with Nick Carter brought to you by New Post War Old Dutch Cleanser. Leaving the motor of her husband's car running with Patsy slumped unconscious behind the wheel, Lorna Colby closes the garage door and starts toward the house. Just a moment, Mrs. Colby. Oh, Mr. Carter. I've been looking for you. You have? Thought you might like to know that your brother did not kill Henderson. Of course he didn't. I husband... No, Mrs. Colby, not your husband either. You killed him. I killed... Oh, that's out of none. I don't think so. And you're not leaving me just yet, Mrs. Colby. Let go of my arm. You took your husband's car and went to see Henderson late last night, didn't you? No, I didn't. You called with him about the $20,000. He stole from your husband. I don't know what you're talking about. Then you picked up the paper knife from his desk and stabbed him. That's not true. It was Arthur who did it. Remember the blood, Mrs. Colby, the blood that stained your dress? No. I found that dress with the blood stained still on it. You're lying. It's a confession, Mrs. Colby. Perhaps we better drive down to headquarters now and make it official. It was a trick. You didn't know anything. Oh, yes, I did. But I had no proof until you gave yourself away. Come on, let's go. No. Not to the garage. I'm going to let you drive me to headquarters. I won't go in there. I won't. Oh, yes, you will. Wait till I open this garage door. Let me go. Let me go. Where's the motor of that car running? I don't know. There's someone in it. No. Good heavens. It's Patsy. Well, Nick, they say I can leave the hospital tomorrow. Isn't that wonderful? Wonderful that you're alive, Patsy. Another couple of minutes in that garage and you'd have been my late lamented secretary. Well, I'm sure glad you came along when you did. But tell me, Nick, how did you know Mrs. Colby killed the doctor? I knew because Richard smoked turkey cigarettes. But the laboratory analysis of those shreds of tobacco in Henderson's ashtray proved that they came from some ordinary popular brand. Oh, and that eliminated Richard? Colby smoked a pipe. So he was in the clear. So it had to be his wife. I don't follow that, Nick. Could it have been some completely unknown person? But you're forgetting that the knife was found in Colby's pocket. And outside of Richard or Colby himself, the only person who could have put it there was Mrs. Colby. Well, yes. Yes, but what was behind all this business? There's a plot to get control of Colby's money by having him put in an asylum as a homicidal maniac. That's why Mrs. Colby hired Henderson, the next wardrobe hypnotist, mind you, to pose as a psychiatrist. And by putting Colby under hypnotic influence, Henderson could make him do peculiar things the next day and then forget all about them. He could and did. After a few incidents like that, all before witnesses, mind you, Mrs. Colby would have no trouble at all getting her husband put away as a dangerous lunatic. Then Richard was completely innocent. He didn't know a thing about it. You know, the whole scheme might have worked out. If Henderson hadn't got greedy and used hypnotism to make Colby draw that 20,000 out of the bank and bring it to her. Yes, that was a fatal error. I should say it was. Made Mrs. Colby furious. So that's why she killed him. That was one reason. She also saw a perfect chance to get rid of the only person who knew her plans and at the same time put her husband in the asylum as a homicidal maniac by putting the blame on him. What a dirty frame-up. Oh, by the way, Patsy, you get 50% of the fee in this case, you know. I do? Mm-hmm. Why? Because you caught the killer before I did, even if you didn't know it. Well, I hope I never catch another one. Catching criminals is all flay hard on the head. Well, Nick, how about a little advanced dope on the adventure that new post-war old Dutch cleanser is going to bring us next week? Certainly, Bob. But first, I wish to ask everybody who's listening to clean up their plates at every meal. And if anything's left over, don't waste it. Make it due for tomorrow. In this way, we can help save valuable food that is so desperately needed by people who are not so fortunate as we are. I'm sure we all agree with that, Nick, and we'll do all we can to ease the present-world food emergency. And now, about next week's Nick Carter adventure. Bob, next week, we're going to meet a couple of crooks who spent a lot of time looking for a lady that was six inches high and covered with jewels. And Nick had to turn me into a spook to find them. Spooks and six-inch ladies. It sounds like a fascinating combination. What do you call the story? I call it The Case of the Jeweled Queen. Nick Carter, master detective, is presented each week at this time, and over the same stations by the Karahee packing company, makers of new post-war Old Dutch cleanser. Nick Carter, master detective, produced and directed by Jock McGregor, is copyrighted by Street and Smith Publications Incorporated. Charlotte Manson is featured as Patsy. Today's script will be presented by Jim Parsons. Original music is played by Henry Silverne. This program is fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This is Bob Martin saying, when minutes come, use new post-war Old Dutch cleanser. This is the mutual broadcasting system.