 Personal notice, dangerous my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. California invites you to let George do it. In just a moment, we'll begin tonight's adventure of George Valentine. Say, did you forget a Christmas present for your car? One of the nicest gifts I know is a complete changeover to new RPM motor oil. The oil that doubles engine life between major overhauls due to lubrication. Don't forget to replace the filter element, too. You'll be giving yourself a gift of smoother driving and top engine protection all year round by getting new RPM motor oil at independent Chevron gas stations or standard stations where they say and mean, we take better care of your car. And now, tonight's story, the last payoff, another adventure of George Valentine. Who did this? What in the... That guy's name again. Vader, that's it. George Valentine. Hey, okay, Bartell, stop shaking so somebody ransacks your place here. And yet you say nothing was taken. Yeah, yeah, that's right, Miss Brooks. Well? Well, don't you understand? It's why did anybody take this place apart? What are they trying to do to me? What do you mean, do to you? I... I can't afford any trouble. I'm an ex-con. Oh, a little matter you forgot to mention when you wrote to me, eh, Buster? Yeah, I forgot. Isn't that terrible? I figured I'm entitled to get a little help like any other human being. Wasn't that a lot of nerve for me to think that? Okay, okay. Skip the dramatics. What were you in jail for? I stole a car. I got drunk and stole a car. It was my second offense. Spent 18 months in the pen. So I figured I'd find me a small town somewhere and make a new start. Why this particular small town, Lentfield? Because I knew someone here. Someone I thought might give me a hand. Clear that up, will you? Man, my wife and I met in Chicago. That's where I come from. Big fat guy. Nice. Good connections. John Logan. We hit it all fine. Said if I ever needed help, I should look him up. I suppose your wife is here with you. You suppose wrong, lady. She left me flat while I was in jail. She's someplace in Europe on the chorus line of a girly show. Ruthie is the loyal kind. Oh, I make a big mystery of all this. Sneak thief got in here. You surprised him. He knocked you out and ran. No, that's not the answer, Valentine. Somebody was looking for something special. Looked in every little place. Even went through my pockets when I was dead to the world. Ripped open the lining of my jacket. Look. See? The only thing I own that's worth anything is this wristwatch. It's a good one. But the guy didn't take it, did he? No, it was no sneak thief. But who else could it be? And why? I don't suppose you're landlady. You noticed any strange men prowling around here? No, because I figured whoever it was climbed in through the window. Hey, tell me. How long has it been raining hard like this? Oh, a couple of days now. This time of the year, it always rains in this place, they tell me. What are you driving at, George? Those footprints near the window. You're pretty small, Bartell. That's what I meant. Those aren't my footprints. Must be the man who ransacked my room. Some kind of red clay. Must have been somewhere where there's red clay. It's not too much to go on. No. Say, Bartell, suppose you tell me about this, Mr. Logan, the good Samaritan turned sour. Well, it isn't really like that. I just haven't been able to get a hold of him yet. I spoke to Mrs. Logan a couple of times. She said she'd give him a message. Do you think he has anything to do with any of this? He seems to be the only one you know here in Leadfield. That's what's driving me batting. I don't know why anybody should be interested in anything I might have. Tell me, do you think Mr. Logan might be home now? I don't know. I saw him this morning. You did? Yeah, I was on a bus and it passes the back of his house. I noticed Mr. Logan burning something in the incinerator in his backyard. So I thought here's my chance to talk to him. Yeah, go on. Well, by the time I got off the bus, Mr. Logan was gone. I asked his wife where he went and she said downtown. I went to his office, figuring I'd just barge in and get to see him once and for all. But he wasn't there. And the girl said she didn't know where he might be. The elusive Mr. Logan. I know all this sounds mixed up and not too important, Valentine. But it's important to me. I've got to know what's going on. I want to go straight. I don't want any trouble. I don't have much money, but I'll pay what I can for you to help me. All right, Bartan, you got me curious. You stay here. Maybe I can find out something. No, no, Mr. Valentine. Mr. Reese and I are quite through talking. Well, Mrs. Logan, I could wait in the next room. No, no, it's all right, young man. Mrs. Logan is right. Talking doesn't do much good. You will convey my message to Mr. Logan, won't you? Of course. Although, frankly, I don't understand it. He'll understand. That's the important thing. And I know he'll listen to you very carefully. Really? Oh, you might also tell him I'm a patient man. Very patient, but my patience is wearing thin. I'll tell him. I know he'll understand that. Good day. No, no, no, I'll let myself out. No. Where were we before we were interrupted by Mr. Reese? You assured me you didn't know a thing about that client of mine, Mr. Bartel. That's right. And I certainly didn't know a thing about his wife, his young, pretty wife, as I gather now. So, that's that, I guess. Surely, Mr. Valentine, if you really want to know about Mr. Bartel, our local police will help you. Our sheriff is a very efficient man. As a matter of fact, my assistant, Miss Brooks, is checking that angle. I asked her to call me back here if you don't mind. Not at all. You have no idea where Mr. Logan might be right now. Oh, yes. He's out buying a raincoat. A raincoat? Well, he was simply soaked when he got to the office this morning, so I told him I wasn't going to have him come down with a cold or worse. So, he's out buying a raincoat. I see. Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Valentine? If you're going to wait. No, thanks. Don't bother. I'm afraid I'm a very poor hostess, but I have been rather upset. Really? I know it can't possibly matter to you, but Mr. Logan has been so... Well, not himself lately, so nervous. I know it's ridiculous because money is no problem with us. But now he seems to be worried about owing people money. People like Mr. Reese. This is one time he won't listen to me, talk to me about it. Perhaps I could help. I'm sorry. Tell you what, maybe we will have that cup of tea and might cheer up both of us. And this constant rain might be good to have a cup of... Excuse me. Hello. Hello. May I speak to Mr. Valentine, please? This is Claire Brooks. Of course. Just a minute. It's for you, Mr. Valentine. Oh, thanks. Yeah, Bruxy, did you find anything about our friend Bartell? No, George. I'm afraid the police are in too much of a dither to be much help. Dither? What are you talking about? Most of them were doubted the only place in town where there's clay. Why not? That's right, red clay. And George, there's been a murder there. The car's parked right over there, George. I didn't want to talk in front of Mrs. Logan, but tell me more about the murder. Who is the victim? The police don't know yet. A weasel-faced little man who was seen coming here to Linfield every month or so for almost a year. Very interesting thing, George. There were some footprints leading away from the clay pits. Large footprints. Oh, a ransacking friend, maybe, huh? Could be. Oh, there was something else. Some woman walking in the street a couple of hundred yards away from the clay pits was scared by a man hurrying away from there. A big fat man in a dark blue raincoat, she said. Or at least that's what a boy who runs a service station not far from there reported. Uh-huh. Come on, come on. Come on, player. This way. But that goes to the Logan's backyard, George. I'm playing a long, long shot, ancient. Careful of the puddles. Bartell told us he saw Mr. Logan burning something in the incinerator this morning, didn't he? Well, yes. And Logan is a big man, and his wife told me he's buying a new raincoat this morning. But what happened to his old one? Oh, there's the incinerator over there. It's kind of a poking. Yeah, this'll do. You see anything, George? Everything pretty well burned to ashes. Everything's seen. What is it? Oh, it's a piece of metal. A belt buckle. It's still covered with some cloth, blue cloth. That's it, all right. Logan burned his dark blue raincoat. George, I thought you wanted to go to the police station. I told you before it's down the other block. I know, but I'm still playing that long shot. Now what's that supposed to mean? Just be patient, please, Angel. That clothing store down there, Wilson's. That looks like the largest one in town. All right, I agree. Let's pass it just once again, and then we'll... All right, so you can stop on a dime. Now what? That big fat man just coming out in a brand-new yellow raincoat. Mr. Logan? I wouldn't be surprised. Stay here, Angel. I still have a client, remember? I want to talk to Logan before we sick the police on him. Now, George, be careful with him. Okay, okay. Mr. Logan? Mr. Logan, wait a minute. Hey, please, wait. What do you want? I don't know you. Well, the name's George Valentine. Never heard of you, please. I'm in a hurry. I'm very busy. I came to Linfield because a man named Bartel wrote to me. What? I'll kill you with my bare hands. Take it easy, friend. You're out of your class. What else do you want from me? Haven't you done enough? Leave me alone. Leave me alone. I just want some straight answers to a few questions. That's all. We can talk right there in that car. Look at your shoes, Mr. Logan. There are still traces of red clay on them, see? No, no. I want to talk to you about a clay pet and murder Mr. Logan. Now, will you come along? Yes. Yes, I'll go with you. I must talk to somebody. Anybody. Please talk to me. Help me. Please help me. Help me. In just a moment, we'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. Over the hills and through the woods to grandmother's house we go. That's a well-known saying that has always been appropriate during the holiday season. This year, perhaps, you'll be one of the many thousands of western motorists who'll be driving home for Christmas and New Year's, driving over the hills and through the woods. That's why I think this is an especially good time to remind you that you need to work for top performance under all driving conditions. For the kind of driving you do, where you do it, your car needs a gasoline with many different performance qualities. Any gasoline can be made to stress one performance feature at the expense of others, but Chevron Supreme is designed to give you not one, not two, but all eight high performance qualities in correct balance. Marlage, anti-knock, vapor lock prevention, acceleration, and area blending. You'll feel the difference from the very first tank full of Chevron Supreme. For smoother, all around top performance, be sure to get the gas that gives you all eight. Just drive in and say, fill her up with Chevron Supreme at any standard station or independent Chevron gas station where they say, and mean, we take better care of your car. A next convict, Ray Bartell, pleads that he's trying to go straight and hires you to find out who ransacked his room and why. Only the case is complicated by the murder of a man the police haven't been able to identify and the fact that the leading suspect is one of the town's leading citizens, John Logan. And as you sit with him in your car on a rain swept street, you know he's close to the breaking point. That is, if your name is George Valentine. If you're sort of a private detective, Mr. Valentine, then you're just what I, what I may need. And you, Miss Brooks, you seem so understanding it's... It's been so long since I could really talk to anybody. Please, Mr. Logan, you must calm down. No, Mrs. Logan is a fine woman. Fine and good, but I couldn't talk to her not after what I've done to her. Now look, we're not going to get anywhere until you get hold of yourself and tell us what happened in some sort of order. Things happen in life in any order. Do they make any sense? Mr. Logan, you were seen leaving the clay pits. Your footprints there were photographed by the police. Don't you understand? I didn't kill Joe. When I got there, Joe was already dead. Oh, so that was the name of the murdered man. The police were unable to identify him. Joe, that was the only name you ever gave me. You'd think for all the money you got from me. You'd at least give me his full name. Joe, the collector. Joe, the tormentant. Joe, Mr. Logan. Joe. Yes, I... I'm sorry. All right, then. When did you first meet this Joe, whoever he is? And I first made such a fool of myself over Ruthie. Ruthie Bartell? I have no excuse for being a fool, but I also have suffered enough so I don't have to be kicked around anymore. When is Joe for the... Well, I... you see, back in those days, I saw Joe following me around, and I realized that somebody had snapped a picture of Ruthie and me. I was sure that Joe was a detective hired by my wife. Of course, I stopped seeing Ruthie. I died a thousand deaths waiting for the showdown. But it never came, huh? Not from Mrs. Logan, is that it? Yes, I was wrong about who we worked for, you see, because then I got a blackmail note presented to me by Joe. I was to pay and go on paying each month. And you paid and paid. What else could I do? I was already a failure as far as my wife is concerned. I didn't tell her, but I made bad, stupid deals and I gambled money away with that Carl Reese. Reese? Yeah. Best I could only pay back half my debts, but if Mrs. Logan, Martha, found out about Ruthie, she'd never forgive me. I couldn't let her know that, don't you see? Well, didn't you suspect Bartel, Ruthie's husband? I did, I did, but by then he was in prison. I didn't know what to think. And I decided Joe was the only blackmailer. I can't let Martha find out about Ruthie. The police mustn't time eat any of this. They mustn't. I'm afraid that's sort of wishful thinking, Mr. Logan. Huh? I want to find out that you just bought this new raincoat that you burned your old one and they'll be curious to say the least. You went right from the clay pits to Bartel's, ransacked his room, looking for the blackmail evidence, whatever that was. Isn't that right? Yes, yes, you see, Joe got in touch with me yesterday afternoon. I thought I was all through paying him. He promised me I was, but you're never through, are you? Yeah, I'm afraid not, Mr. Logan. He told me to come out to that, that little shack in the clay pits. That's where the pay off, pay off always took place out there. And when I got there, he was dead. Shot to death. What did you do? Well, I, I suddenly realized just what an awful spot I was in. Bartel was trying to contact me. Perhaps he was the blackmailer, after all. So I had to find the evidence before the police found it. And did you find it at Bartel's place? No, not a trace of it. It wasn't on him either. Mr. Valentine, what can I do? How can I get out of this terrible mess? I'm afraid there's only one thing you can't do. Turn yourself over to the police and have the whole thing brought out into the open. I can't. Martha will never believe me. She'll never forgive me. George, look. There's a policeman coming over this way. What's that? No, they'll never get me. You'll be a reasonable Logan. Hey, don't stop that way. Don't stop me, don't. I'll get him. George, the police will catch him. Hey, hey, hey, wait. Sorry, officer, I can't. Hey, stop, I said. You don't understand that man will get away. Yeah, but you're not getting away. You think that sign is just there for amusement? Huh? You'll be parked here 10 minutes, Mac. Have a ticket. Don't worry, Valentine. The pick-up order is out on Logan. He seems to be our man, all right. Was there any additional information about this man, Joe? Not much. Typical blackmailer, shifty, covered his tracks. Anything on the gun? We don't know when we find it. 38. Two bullets fired. Thanks, Sheriff. Where are you going, George? The sheriff's got his murder, but we still have a client, remember? My tail's gone. If he beat it, it was just a minute ago. What? Yeah, the light bulb is still warm. It must have been just turned off. But where were we? Okay, Mac. My tail's slowed down. No. Let go of me. I'm not sticking around, Valentine. This place is too hot. For a blackmailer, you mean? Huh? Never heard the naughty word before, huh? Okay, it has to do with Ruthie and Logan. Ruthie? You mean that little... and Logan? Well, I don't know anything about it. You're not gonna get me in the middle of it. Nobody will... Oh, now, wait. I'm gonna try again, but still... And you're going to the Logan home with me, friend, after we pick up one more passenger. Yes, I'm a gambler. Is there anything wrong with being a gambler? Well, let's leave that to the Kfarver committee, Reese. But Mr. Logan owed you a large gambling debt, didn't he? As a matter of fact, he did. He didn't pay it, huh? Not yet. Uh-huh. I think we'd better take a little trip to the Logan's, Mr. Reese. This whole thing needs some clear light thrown on it. He's gone. He's running from the police. But where is he running? Here, Mrs. Logan. Please drink some of this coffee. Bartell and Reese are in the living room with one of the sheriff's men. All right, agent. We'll wait for the sheriff before we talk any more to them. Thank you, my dear. I wish I could cry like other women. Cry for John and cry for me. Cry because I must have failed him so awfully. He couldn't come to me and talk to me. You have no idea where he might have gone, huh, Mrs. Logan? No, no. In the state of mind he was in, it would be better if the police knew where he was. He came in and he told me all he's done about that Mrs. Bartell and all the money he'd paid in blackmail and all the money he owes. There's no money with the most important thing in the world. He told me all that and... and he cried. Mr. Valentine, John isn't a murderer that much, I know. I hope you're right. I told him not to run, but he wouldn't listen to me. He packed his bag and he kissed me and he ran out. If they catch up with him and he tries to get away from them, they'll... All right, Mrs. Logan. The evidence against your husband is quite strong, but maybe we can still help him. Maybe... Help? Do you think we can? Really? Joe was a blackmailer. Mr. Logan was being blackmailed. The obvious conclusion was that there was a fight and Mr. Logan killed him. Well, then George? But suppose Mr. Logan was right and Joe was only the go-between and Joe proved difficult to his employer, the real blackmailer. But who could that be? How could we ever find that out? Well, it could be Bartell. Even though he was in prison, he could have kept in contact with Joe. And all this business about coming here to get a job and going straight is so many lies. Maybe you're right, Mr. Valentine. Or perhaps it was even somebody like Mr. Reese who's the real blackmailer. Mr. Reese? Aren't you reaching a little now, George? Oh, why? Mr. Logan had quite a bit of money, all right, but not enough to pay all his legal debts and his gambling debt, which, by the way, couldn't be collected legally. So Mr. Reese could take a rather unorthodox, but effective way of collecting his debt by blackmailing the money out of your husband, Mrs. Logan. And there could be others then who might possibly be the blackmailers. John wouldn't be the only one with the motive for killing Joe. Uh-huh, that's exactly what I meant. Never mind. John... They fought up with him, George. Well, this is it, Brooke, see? All right, Logan, just sit here. John, John, are you all right? I didn't do it. I didn't kill anybody. No one will believe me. He already told me about his being blackmail, and he was running. And that makes him as good a suspect as we need, Valentine. At this point, I don't know myself what to think. John, John, you mustn't say that. You can leave that release here, Logan. You won't need it anymore. No. No, wait. What? You were holding onto that release for dear life. There was no money on the dead blackmailer. Here, let me see what's in it. Ties, rose shirts, underwear, jammers, socks, extra suit. All nice and neat. And under it, bedroom slippers and... And what? And a gun. What? Gun. A .38, two bullets missing. No. John, there must be some awful mistake. I have an idea. We'll find the gun is the one that killed Joe. And then... It'll put the final coffin nail in the case against you, Mrs. Logan. George! What did you say, Mr. Valentine? Yes, you, Mrs. Logan. Your husband was so afraid you might find out about him and Mrs. Bartell. And still it was you who blackmailed him. How can you say anything like that, George? Why would she do it? Well, now that's two questions, Angel, and I think I have some pretty definite answers to both. Well, come on. Let's have them. What's all this? Strangely enough, Sheriff, it's what you said about the release when you opened it that intrigued me even more than the presence of the gun. What's that? Would you make sense? All right. Mr. Logan is a man. More than that, a very upset and distraught man. Well, he stopped to pack the release so carefully. No, he just throws some things together. Yeah, a woman packed that bag. She wanted you to run, Mr. Logan. You're insane. Think back, Mr. Logan. You didn't really pack that bag, now did you? Well, I don't know. I guess maybe I didn't. And since Mrs. Logan had the gun to put in, she's the one who used it on Joe, the man she hired as the go-between. Any more proof, Valentine? A woman identified the fat man running away from the clay pits as wearing a dark blue raincoat. So what? Logan himself admitted he was there. How could you tell the color in the dark? That's right, and it was raining. It would just look black. Only one woman could say what she did. The wife who knew the color of the raincoat a husband wore. And the reason you were out there, Mrs. Logan, is because you had that argument with Joe and you killed him. Make him stop saying that, John, please. No, no, let him go on. I was wondering why you were so careful to point attention to your husband having to buy a new raincoat. But what would be the motive, Valentine? A wife blackmailing her own husband? Oh, we've discussed some unusual causes for blackmail before, haven't we, Mrs. Logan? And you understood very well. A little manner of revenge. Your husband failed you, squandered your money, played around, and you had to get your revenge. And you did. Made his life a hell. Martha, you didn't tell him you did. You didn't answer the money, too, didn't you? But you killed Joe and in desperation tried to blame your husband for his murder, and you almost succeeded. Martha, Martha, don't let him go on saying that. And now that we know what to look for, we'll find the money, Mrs. Logan, and then... Stop it, Martha. Stop looking at me like that. You cheat. You silly fool. I'm glad. Whatever torture I brought you, I'm glad you understand. I hate you. I hate you. George, there isn't any reason to stay here any longer. A house can be so cold when hate is lived in it. Yeah, Brooksy, we're going. I still have to straighten out something with my clients. Holiday time is jingle bell time, and a good time to remind you that new RPM motor oil doubles engine life between major overhauls due to lubrication, and more than meets the heavy-duty motor oil requirements of every car manufacturer. New RPM helps cut unnecessary repair bells and puts the jingle back in your pocket where it belongs. Get new RPM motor oil for your car at independent chevron gas stations and standard stations, where they say, and mean, we take better care of your car. Apology. Yeah, frankly, Bartella, I didn't buy that. I want to go straight, but somebody won't let me routine. But then why did you go to work for me? Mr. Valentine just has a deeper version to being led down the garden path. Yep. Life is full of surprises, all right. You did come to Linfield just to see a kindly friend of the family. Yeah, Ruthie was a doll, a real doll. But then look at Mrs. Logan, what she did to her husband. I tell you, I learned one thing. Ah. Stay away from women, friend. All women. Far away. You don't say. Have nothing to do with them, especially those that look cute and smile sweet. Uh-huh. Are you coming, George? What's the matter, Angela? He doesn't mean you. No, of course not. Well, that's different. Wait a minute. What's the matter with my smile? Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard Oil Company of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Robert Bailey is starred as George with Virginia Gregg as Bruxy. Let George Do It was written by David Victor and Jackson Gillis and directed by Kenneth Webb. Lee Patrick was heard as Mrs. Logan, Kenny Ross as Logan, Byron Kane as Bartel, Hal K. Dawson as Reese, and Joe Forte as the Sheriff. The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer, John Heiston. Listen again next week, same time, same station, to Let George Do It. Let George Do It is heard overseas through the worldwide facilities of the Armed Forces Radio Service. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.