 Gendered of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West, I invite you to let George do it. The Impatient Redhead, another adventure of George Valentine. President, I'll notice. Danger is my stock and trade. If you feel you're trapped and can't see your way on a loan, you've got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Dear Mr. Valentine, if this sounds like a letter to a love law and column, that's exactly what it is. I've been seeing a man for the last six months. I love him, and I can swear he loves me too. I must know what it is that's keeping him from admitting his feelings. What is he afraid of? Is there a secret in his life he can't share with me? All this will must find out. Now, because I must bring things to a head somehow. I shall be in my apartment at the Raleigh Towers all day waiting for you. And it's signed Blanche Legler. Blanche Legler? Yeah, that'd be the daughter of the late beer baron, Otto Legler. Sure. Legler's Lager, the brew with tradition. Yeah, she must be worth millions, Bruxy. I wonder what does make this guy so backward about being forward? Well, lady, the gentleman has a wife and four kids and hackens out. Well, there's no harm in talking to Blanche. No matter what happens, I bet you get a cold bottle of beer out of it. Well, you know I'm dying of curiosity, but I've got to stay here and wait for that long distance call you're expecting from Detroit. Oh, well, I don't take it to heart, Angel. If you're a Blanche Legler has to confide, I'll let you have it in gaudious detail. See you later. Look at me, Mr. Valentine. Ah, that doesn't take any effort at all, Miss Legler. Oh, stop being coy. I don't need that reassuring. Well, suppose you stop quarter-decking up and down, then maybe we can find out just what you do need. All right. Maybe you've read some things about me in the paper. I make good copy. They say my father spoiled me. And I'm used to getting what I want. Worst of that effect. Sentimentaure is something I want. I know he loves me. I can feel it. I can see it in his eyes. What happened? All I get is that continental charm and gentility until it almost makes me sick. Sit down, Miss Legler. I can't. I'm too nervous. I've done everything but get down on my knees to propose to Miss Legler. Miss Legler. Miss Megger Blanche. All right, Blanche. Now, aside from the glint in his eye, how do you know you're the only woman in this life? Oh, I know they've been others, George. Even after another for a year, and all of them redheads. Well, that's very interesting. You're right in the tradition, Anna. Yes, there was a parade of redheads. Every night a different one sitting with him at the same table in the oval room of the Stafford Hotel. But for the last six months, I've been the only one. Well, Blanche, maybe you're playing it wrong. It might be a good idea if you were on the defense, play hard to get, instead of leading with your left. Oh, don't be naive, George. I've tried being elusive and oh, so very feminine. That doesn't work like... Aha, I see. Well, from what you told me, this Vicente character is an exceedingly polished gentleman, son of a Spanish marquese and stuff. So what? Take another look at me. Is it such a calm down for him to marry me? Okay, Blanche, I admit the odds are with you, unless the man is blind. Thank you. But I'll be equally frank. Throwing out male icebergs isn't exactly my racket. Now, we're snooping into people's private lives, except when they've definitely strayed from the straight and narrow. Can't you use a big faxie? Oh, sure, always. But none of it's going to make me unhappy with myself. I suppose I can assure you it won't be a snooping. I bet you're good at cryptic brass. I'll show you what I mean. Here, in the drawing. Blanche, what is it? I received your call and the... Oh. Do you realize, Vicente, this is the first time we've seen each other during the day. It's always been the over room at night. That is no matter. Is there anything wrong? I... Oh, this is Mr. Valentine. Mr. Montoya. How do you do? How do you do? Vicente, this seems to be the day for frankness. Como? I hired this man to find out what it is that stands between us, darling. You did this, Blanche? Why? Why? Ah, now... Oh, come on, George. You can't call it snooping when we put all our cars on the table. But you did this? She's very unfortuant, Blanche. But what did you expect me to do? Do you think I sat there all those evenings just to sample all the rare wines you ordered with such assortment or indulging blib conversations? Please, Blanche. Whatever's keeping you from saying what you feel I want to know, bring out me open. I'll stand by you, Vicente. Was there not a young man named Thomas Sloan? I should never have come into your life, Blanche. Good-bye. Oh, Mr. Valentine. Yeah? I know Blanche's power of persuasion. But if I were in your place, I would not pursue this matter any further. It would bring no good to anyone. Especially you. What's that supposed to mean? This just happens to be a day for primeness, as Blanche says. Adios. Well, George? Well, in his polite ways, anyone toya carries a very big chip on a shoulder. I wonder what had happened if I knocked it off. Why don't you? I think I will, Blanche. We're in business. If you must know, Miss Brooks, I bribed the maid. That's how I know Blanche called in Valentine. Oh, you've got it bad, Mr. Sloan. You're not wrong. I can't think. I can't work. I can't do anything. Well, I don't know what to tell you until we find out what Mr. Valentine's decided to do. Wait a minute. Miss Brooks, a woman's no different from a man. I mean, you can tell when someone's meant just for you and you for him, can't you? I think I can. Well, that's the way it's been between Blanche and me for years, until Montoya came along. He isn't white for her, I tell you. They've got nothing in common. It's different between Blanche and me. We know how to laugh together. Have fun. All right. Calm down, Mr. Sloan. Oh. Oh. Anyway, will you give Valentine this message? Yes. Whatever he finds out about with Senator Montoya, I want to know, too. I'm willing to pay for it. Well, I'm sure that will interest him a great deal. And you can also add, Blanche will never marry Montoya, no matter what I have to do. Yeah, Brooks, see, that's very interesting about Tommy, but it's hardly news. Well, you must have got around this morning, darling. Yeah, and here's the net results. Vicente Montoya is the real thing. More money than he can live to spend. And his father is in my case, all right? And listen to the trimmings the old man could tag onto his name. Yeah. Grand officer of the Spanish Legion of Honor, Grand Cross of St. Gregory the Great, Knight of Zerah, go-sense, so on and so on. All of which leaves you where, Mr. Dorothy did. Exactly. Nowhere. Well, what does this Vicente Montoya look like? What's his great charm? Oh, I don't know. Call it breeding if you want, Brooksy. But he's handsome, besides. Shiny black hair, distinguished. Walks as though he swallowed a ramrod. Oh, yeah. He knows the vintage years of all the best wines. Oh, poor Tommy. And the final fact, which I'm sure Blanche already knows, Vicente lives with his father, the Marquis of Montoya, and the such a sweet of the hotel world. Why don't you just let love take its course? Blanche will either wind up in a suburban cottage or a castle in Spain? I know, I know. But why the chip on Vicente's shoulder if everything is all sweetness and light? What? Hey, wait. George, what are you doing? Just looking at your hair. Well, you've never looked at it that way before. Now look, Angel, this hurts me more than it does you. But you're going over to the beauty parlor and have those lovely locks dyed red. George! Huh? I suppose you wonder why I had the headway to ask you to come over to my table. I was curious enough to join you, wasn't I? I'm very grateful, Miss Brooks. Oh, Henri. Yes, in your Montoya. A bottle of sherry. You know the only year I think is worthy of a great occasion. Oh, of course. The moment you walked in, I noticed your hair. It is truly very lovely. Oh, thank you. I'm not just making idle conversation, please believe me. All the men in the Montoya family, as far back as anyone can remember, have chosen women who have red hair. Oh, no. No wonder when I walked in, you didn't take your eyes off me for a moment. I only know of one woman with red hair more beautiful than yours. I should get up and leave you, Mr. Montoya. No woman likes to think herself second best. Where's your gallant? I'm afraid I lost it. Along with a great many other illusions? Well, we're going to do something about that tonight. When you came in, I thought you might be able to take her place. Make me forget. Blanche. Blanche. She's the only woman I ever loved. I'm giving her up. Oh. Sherry's than yours. The way you like it. Thank you. I, uh... Why did you tell me all this, Mr. Montoya? Why? So you can run back and tell Mr. Valentine? What did you say? Red hair will be coming to you, Miss Brooks. But I can see that it was died. Remember, I'm not going to sue you. Okay. That leaves you the top man on the totem pole. I'll take your part. Skip it. Just let me ask you a simple question. If you love Miss Legler, why are you so willing to give her up? Why don't you tell Mr. Valentine he will never find that out the day that I die? You must excuse me, Mr. Valentine, but I'm really listening. Okay, have a chill way in my case, but I don't believe you. Did you ever think, senor, that in a long life one learns much? Yes, I know. What about your son? One learns about many things. Now these pistols, the largest private collection of Spanish dueling pistols in the world. Congratulations. I make it a point to spend an hour a day with them, oil them, polish them, see that they withstand the passage of time. But go on, senor. What were you saying? All right, here it is. Your son is in love, but he won't dare admit it. You know why? Senor, my son is not a simpering girl, and I'm not a duena to watch over the members. What is he afraid of? You ought to know you're his father. It's strange about this pistol. The barrel hardly moves. Let's see. You're holding onto me, my case, and I'm a pretty stubborn guy. Hey! Well, that almost took my ear off. Oh, I'm so sorry, senor Valentine. I was sure there was no bullet in that pistol. Yeah. Anyway, thanks for missing. It does prove something, doesn't it? Does it? If you insist on handling something you know is dangerous, you can expect your head to be blown off. No, it's rather bad, senor. Oh, sure, you're so right, Marquay. And don't think I'm going to forget it. Maria! Yes, senor? Please show the gentleman out. He hasn't got all the time in the world. Goodbye, senor Valentine. Maybe we'll have another man-to-man talk again when you're not fussing with your pistols. Senor, I know that which you are trying to find out. I've been with the Manteus for very many years. Why, Maria, I'm surprised that you've had your ear at the keyhole. How much will you pay? Oh, I have a very liberal client. $500? Could be. My sister's grandchild. That money was mean to go to the university. When do we get to talk? Later tonight. I live in your room at 28 Douglas Street. You will be there. That's out of your own sex proxy over here. Tomorrow I'm going to have the most expensive shampoo at Rudolph's and put it on the office expense account. Well, you're welcome to it. I don't know if it's polite, George, but the door is open. Yeah, so it is. George, he's asleep. Maybe it'd be better if we came back in the morning. Hold on, Pussy. Even when people sleep, they manage to breathe. Now wait. Let me see. Pussy. Maria isn't asleep. She's dead. There's no sign of violence. Maybe this empty bottle on the bed table means something. I don't know, but this note here does. What does it say, George? When you will find me, I am dead. I know now I could not tell you the secret of the Montoyers and go on living in peace and honor, so I do this thing. Forgive me, Maria. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. Meanwhile, a word about where. It's easy to keep the outside and inside of your car, spick and span, but how can you keep the interior engine parts clean and efficient? How can you save those expensive, tight-fitting parts from the where caused by fast-forming carbon, rust, and acids? Engineers at Standard of California licked this problem by developing RPM motor oil. And they did the job so well that a recent survey shows western motorists prefer RPM 2 to 1 over any other motor oil. Chemical compounds in RPM keep your entire engine cleaner. They protect hot spots left bare and exposed to wear by ordinary motor oils. They prevent costly rust, corrosion, and crankcase foaming. And that's why RPM, a premium-quality motor oil, gives your car longer life at low-cost operation. Get it tomorrow at a standard station or an independent Chevron gas station, where they say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. And now back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. Well, a fiery red-headed heiress hires you to find out all you can about a certain Spanish nobleman. He's what she wants, so with some reluctance you take the case, only to find yourself threatened with violence on all sides. What's more, the faithful old servant of the Montoya family prefers suicide to revealing the secret, which you know is there. But being as stubborn and curious as George Valentine, you pay a visit with Claire to the old Marquise of Montoya. I don't know if I want to talk to you tonight, Mr. Valentine. Miss Krupp. Sorry, Marquise, but you're going to have to. May I get you a glass of sherry and lady? I'll call Maria. No. Nobody will call Maria any more. I cannot get used to the idea. You see, she has been in the family so many years. Which just about brings us to the point, doesn't it, Mr. Montoya? Yeah, there's no question the Maria committed suicide. But that's not enough of me. What made her do it? What makes any of us do what we do with our lives? In the note she left, she said something about not being able to live in peace or honor. In our country, more important than bread and water or even life itself are dignity and honor. Marquise, you knew Maria was going to tell me whatever it is you and your son are trying to hide? It is very little. I do not know where it goes on in this house. Well then, let's not mince words. You forced her to kill herself. That is very harsh, Mr. Valentine, and not true. What is true then? I merely reminded her of the years she considered. I remember the Montoya family and the kindness we showed her. I never meant it to be more than a reminder. I never thought that she would go so far. But it was better for you rather than have a talk. Think what you please, Mr. Valentine. As far as that young man in Barcelona... The one Maria wanted the money for? The one she was willing to forsake all loyalty for. Yes. I will take care of him. He will not want for anything. Maria can rest quietly. Oh, we thank thee. As you see, we have visitors. I know. Miss Brooks, I am sorry about that little fiasco I carried out in the overall... Believe me, I am seldom that old. Oh, do not let him worry, Mr. Montoya. I seldom walk around with blazing red haze. There is really nothing more to say, Mr. Valentine. That is father. Well, I have something to say. Okay, let's have it. The last time we met, I said something that may have sounded like a threat. I did not mean it that way. I know this is getting rather awkward. Everybody being so sorry about everything. Why don't we just cry on each other's shoulders? Mr. Valentine, I am serious. I know you are interested only in the welfare of your client. That's right, Miss Legler. I realize that most of the fault is mine. I cannot monopolize any woman's time for six months without having her make certain obvious assumptions. What are you driving? I give you my word as a gentleman that I shall never see her again. Marriage is completely out of the question. Therefore the reason can't possibly be important. Could you tell Blanche that and forget the whole thing? Confidentially, friend, I wasn't too happy with this case from the beginning. Yes. And if marriage is out of the question, I don't see what good I can do. Yeah, I'll speak to Miss Legler in the morning. And so that's how it is, Blanche. And I'm inclined to agree with Vicente. So how about dropping the whole thing? Maybe the day after tomorrow you will think that's pretty good advice. Since I was four years old, Miss Brooklyn, only advice I've taken was my own. I'm on a coffee, Blanche. Oh, tell me what are you doing here? I told you we have nothing more to talk about. We'll see about that. You're Valentine, aren't you? That's the name the mother insisted on it. It happened to be my father's name. I'll take it easy, will you, Thomas? I spoke to Montoya after you and Miss Brooks left. Vicente said he had a busy evening. Blanche, why don't you get it through your crazy little head? Vicente doesn't want you. Why don't you mind your own business? Slap me all you want. That won't change things. Isn't that what Montoya said to you, too, Valentine? Well, uh, he was a little more suave about it. Look at me, Blanche. I love you. It isn't something that happened just yesterday or six months ago. It's been there for years. And you love me, too. You told me there's no changing that. Oh, Tommy, please. Please go. Okay, I'm leaving. But I'm never going to be too far away. You know, Blanche, I think your friend Tommy has the right idea. I remember you were saying you wanted to drop the case, George. I said I thought it would be best. I may as well tell you I'll only hire someone else. Well, there's no mistaking that, George. No, wait a minute, Blanche. Changing your mind? I still think somebody's going to get hurt in this deal. But as long as you're going to get a stand in for me anyway, I may as well go along for the ride. Oh, now listen, friend, the Spanish news syndicate should know more than that about one of the most prominent families in Spain. Perhaps, Mr. Valentine, but that's the only information that's available. Professor Artegi, if there's anybody who knows all about Spanish history, it's you. There must be something about the Montoya. Forgive me, young man, I am not the gossip columnist. The historian deals only with the facts, and I gave you those. Mr. Valentine, Miss Brooks, don't apologize. The writer is always looking for any excuse to knock off work. Oh, that's very kind of you, Mr. Wendell. The truth is, my dear, I wasn't even working. I just sat here in front of the typewriter in case my wife comes in. Okay, but what about the Marquis of Montoya? Ah, fascinating old gentleman. Had lunch with him civil once, I'll never forget it. He never even cracked a smile. Why don't you've written enough books about Spain to be an authority? Could there be anything about the Montoya families that they go to all this trouble to conceal? I mean, why would a man like Vicente Montoya turn his back on a woman who's beautiful and has a fortune? Well, there is one story, but I don't know whether or not to... What's that supposed to be? The Montoya line goes way back, even beyond the time when Columbus became America's first tourist. Well... It's hard to separate legend from fact, especially when it has to do with Spain. But there's supposed to be a curse on the Montoyas. Oh, wait a minute, now hold on. Now, don't look at it that way. This is more fact than legend. Ask a Spaniard about it, and you'll probably get nowhere. But it's all there on the records. What's in the records? Well, don't be so mysterious, Mr. Wendell. Without being too descriptive, Miss Brooks, it seems to have been a strange creature popping up on the Montoya family tree every fourth generation. Strange creature? What are you talking about? A stunted little beauty, always about three or four feet tall, its feet will end where the normal man's knees begin. And he never has a single hair on his body. The last one I remember being born was in 1828. Oh, how terrible. There's probably a very sound scientific reason for it, but I suppose it's much more romantic calling it a curse. So that's it. What? Well, don't you see, Brooksy, that's why he's afraid to marry. Afraid that this thing might happen again to his children or his children's children. But it doesn't have to happen every fourth generation, does it, Mr. Wendell? Miss Brooks, I am not an authority on eugenics or the laws of heredity. Well, thanks a lot, Wendell. This calls for a final chat with the Marquesa Montoya. Just the two of us. Oh, I get all kinds of jobs, Marquesa. Some I like, some I don't. Now you understand why you had to be kept this secret. And I'm willing to leave it that way. I'll think of a good reason to give Blanche so she'll have no more questions to ask. Gracias. Suppose I say that Vicente has a wife in South America. I think I can even produce a fake marriage. Could you do that, Senor? I thought you had a reputation to never smile. I know, but I never thought that a young man from a young country could have so much understanding and so much. Well, it doesn't take too much understanding to know what you've gone through, Marquesa. The courage and the iron will it took for you and Vicente to live with the Montoya Kurds. One does what one has to. Put your right about our meeting in the country, Mr. Ballantyne. I have an estate in our heredity now. Vicente and I will leave for there as soon as we can arrange it. Yeah, yeah, I think that'll be best. The chapter will be closed. Well, good-bye, sir. Good luck. And I'll meet you. Adios, y gracias, amigo. And I'll meet you, too. Is everything all right, George? As right as it can be, Angel. For a moment, sir, I must come downstairs and see you in the United States. Now, look, there's nothing to worry about for Sonny, so take it easy, will you? I don't know from nothing, and I'm really off the case. I do not believe this. What did my father tell you? I've got to come downstairs and find out. Oh, Mr. Montoya, be careful. I've got to know. Alistair! Oh, Georgie Drebs! Wait, wait, I'll help. Don't look at me! I don't want anybody to see me this way! George... Now you'll see me as I was born. There are my artificial legs. You wait. Oh, no. Now you have your answer. I am the first generation... Oh, George, I don't think I'll ever forget the fight of the Senti Montoya scuttling up those stairs. Well, why don't you try remembering that Blanche and Tommy are going to get married next week? That's a much heavier notion. You know something? Speaking as a woman, I... I think deep in her heart, Blanche was happy when you came up with that whopper about the Senti having a wife. I don't think that white lie will be held against me. Oh, I'm sure it won't. But, George, when you were inside talking to the Marques, you suspected the truth, didn't you? Oh, Brooksy, it was a weird thought. I didn't even want to admit to myself. But I kept thinking of the Senti's stiff mechanical walk. Yes. And Wendell did say that last time this happened was about 1828. The next time would be around 1900, about the time the Senti was born. Mm-hmm. You know, I think this whole thing was a horrible dream if you weren't standing right beside me. Oh, but I am here, Angela. And you want me to show you how real that is? Mm-hmm. So right. Maybe you found after a lengthy motoring trip that a warm bath and a good sleep put you right back in shape. But don't forget, your car needs a little attention, too, after a long trip. In fact, every thousand miles, your car needs the expert lube service it can get at a standard station or an independent chevron gas station. For these are the only service stations using RPM greases and oils. Each lubricant tailor-made to shield vital wear points from road dust, grit, moisture. Without proper lubrication, spring shackles and other stress points wear down unduly fast. They make quite a rattle doing it. RPM oils and greases assure longer wear and quieter softer riding. So when you're in a long trip and every thousand miles, ask for lube service where you know it's expert at an independent chevron gas station or a standard station, where they say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. Next week, when you tune our way for another adventure of George Valentine, you'll hear... Well, here's just about everything on the case. Accept the receipt. Brooke, see, I outsmarted myself and missed the boat. But George, Jeffries wouldn't break into his own desk to steal it. That doesn't seem to be... Hey, wait, you're no angel. Maybe I didn't miss the boat after all. What do you mean? Now, look, you get out of here, fairness, grab a cab, go back to the office, but be sure nobody sees you. But what about you, George? I'll be back there in a few minutes in Brooksy. I'm pretty sure we'll have a visit. Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard of California on behalf of independent chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Let George do it stars Robert Bailey as George with Francis Robinson as player. Tonight's story was written by David Victor and Herbert Little Jr. and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Jane Ovello as Vicente, Marine Tovelet Blanche, Pedro de Cordova as the Marquis, Ken Peters as Tommy, and Virginia Greg as Maria. The music is composed and conducted by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer, John Easton. Listen again next week, same time, same station, to let George do it. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.