 Ladies and gentlemen, Lockheed presents Mr. Herbert Marshall as the man called X. Look to Lockheed for leadership. The Lockheed aircraft presents Herbert Marshall in The Man Called X, produced and directed by Jack Johnstone. He is the man who crosses the ocean as readily as you or I cross town. He's the man who travels today as you and I will travel tomorrow. He is the man who fights today's war in his unique fashion so that tomorrow's peace will make the world a neighborhood for all of us. He is the man called X. Mr. X spins the globe and puts his finger on the Balkans where he searches for an unknown but notorious international criminal. But right now his mind is far from the troubled world. As he and his fiancee Nancy Bessington listen to Vulse Bluette in the gamut music shop on East 44th Street in New York City. Oh, that's beautiful, Ken. Then we'll take it, my dear. Do you think they could play that for our wedding march, darling? Well, it might be rather tough to waltz down the aisle, too. Mendelssohn and Fargley will probably turn over in their graves, but if you insist... Have you decided to take it, sir? Yes, will you wrap it, please? Certainly, it'll just take a moment. Darling, do you realize how many things we have in common? Good music, good books, good... Ken, Ken, are you listening? Petko. What did you say, Ken? Petko Todorovich. Pet who? Ken, where are you going? Nancy, that man just leave in the shop. Darn it. Now, which way did he go? Ken, what under the sun are you... Petko. I lost him in the crowd. And just who is Petko if you don't mind? I haven't seen him since we were at school together in Switzerland. School? Oh, an old friend. A very close friend, Nancy. Well, thank goodness. For a minute I thought you were getting mixed up in one of those things again. Ken, you still haven't told me how you got Petko's address. From Jimmy Hale on the globe. Come on, Petko, open up. I'd heard he was coming over here as representative of Tito's government. Oh, well, then this isn't just a social call after all. Funny. Well, it's open. Petko, are you home or...? Ken, Ken in that chair. Look at him, he's... Yes, Nancy. Shot through the heart. But Ken, why? I don't know. But he was here on an important business for his government. And he must have been working when it happened. See, here's his typewriter. He was just writing a letter. It's to somebody named Anna. But it may give us some idea. Anna? You know her, Ken? His wife, Nancy. Anna was in Switzerland the year I met Petko. She was very lovely. Oh? I was in love with her, too. Oh. But I left after that summer and they were married a couple of years later. Oh, they're a terrible shock to her. They would have voted. Well, what does the letter say, Ken? Dearest Anna, you will never know the agronies I've suffered being away from you. And you will never know how I feel having to leave you again. But my darling, day and night I dream of the time when we may be together once more. So bless you. And a million kisses from your loving Petko. Well, I didn't know either of them, but it makes me feel terrible. Nancy, you had the right hunch when I saw Petko leave the music shop. This is one of those things. Mrs. Anna Todorovich. 1719 Tsar, horse for the Detle Street. Sofia, Bulgaria. Yes, Chief. That envelope already addressed. Lay beside the typewriter. They must have moved from Belgrade when Yugoslavia was overrun by the Nazis. Find anything else, Ken? The violin, Ken. Yes, a violin. I didn't know he played. But here's the important thing, Chief. In the medicine cabinet, wrapped inside an ordinary gauze bandage roll, I found this. Here. A microfilm. Let's see. Hmm. Look at it through this glass, Ken. I know. Three million marks. Borrowed by the Reichsbank from the Belgrade State Bank, Anton Gubeck, director. Anton Gubeck. Just a minute. Miller, Ufrovsky, Racheck, Gubeck. I thought I saw that name on the list. Anton Gubeck left New York in a plane this morning for Sofia, Bulgaria. Oh? But why Sofia? There's a branch of the Belgrade bank there. Well, that's why Petko was here. He must have had evidence that one of his fellow Yugoslavs was in secret collaboration with the Nazis. He traced him to New York and was about to expose him. But Gubeck got to him first. Could be. Chief, do me a favor. Well? Keep this quiet until I have a chance to see Anna Todorovich and tell her about Petko. But Ken, Anna is in Bulgaria. Yes, my darling, Bulgaria. Oh. Five minutes. Sofia, sir. The plane continues on to Istanbul, Cairo, Salon, and Sydney, Australia. You may change the planes for Bucharest, Moscow, Arden, and back there. You and Petko must have been so happy together. Oh, it's too happy. Oh, Ken, why? Why Petko? Later, Anna, too. Talk about that later. But I must know. What did he say to you when you saw him? Unfortunately, the only time I saw him was just a glimpse as he was leaving a music shop. Oh. By the way, I never knew Petko was a violinist. Oh, he'd just played for his own amusement. Oh. He loved music. He loved everything, beautiful. Oh. No, Anna, dear, don't. Oh, I don't. I'm all right now, Ken. Anna, do you know a man named Anton Gubeck? Anton Gubeck? No, Ken. Should I? Not particularly. I have an idea. He's not a very nice man. But who is he, Ken? Directed with the Belgrade Bank. He has offices here in Sofia. But Ken, what has this to do with Petko? That's exactly what I want to find out from Mr. Gubeck. Mr. Gubeck? Yes. My name's Thurston. Well, what can I do for you? Mr. Gubeck, do you know a man named Petko Tododovich? No, I'm afraid I don't. Tododovich was found dead a few days ago in New York City. So? What has that to do with me? He was in possession of a photostatic record of dealings between this bank and the Reich's bank. My dear man, what bank has not had dealings at one time or another with banks of other countries? After all, finance is international. I'm afraid I failed to understand the purpose of your visit. Oh, I think you do understand. Is there any reason why you shouldn't tell me what you know? I haven't said I know anything. Well, in case you change your mind, you can reach with the Grand Palace Hotel. Why should I change my mind? Because the police might be interested in knowing that you left New York on the day Tododovich was murdered. No, thank you, Ken. Feel better now? Much. Thanks to your dear self. Petko always said the best cure for grief was music, food and laughter. You have given me all three tonight. Anna, think a minute. Are you sure Petko never mentioned Anton Gubbeck? I have been thinking ever since you spoke of him, but you see, I knew very little about Petko's business affairs. And since we came to Sofia, practically nothing at all. What will you do now, Anna? Go back to Belgrade or perhaps even to your America. Ah, gypsy music is the same all over the world, but this is one of the best groups I've heard in a long time. Gancho's gypsy violins are very popular. Do you see how some of the players wander around among the tables? I certainly do. Anna, no gypsy wrote that song. And that arrangement. So you do not care for my improvisations? Well, what else can one play in a cheese box like that? Zagarm Zell Smith. Hello, Mr. Thurston. I thought you'd never get here to Sofia, but it was worth waiting for. Will you introduce me? Oh, yes, yes, Madame Tolovitch. Miss Zell Smith. Oh, no. Poets, scientists, musicians, and admirers of beautiful women. I kiss your hand, Madame. Well... You might as well sit down, Zagan. I suppose it's pointless for me to ask you how you happen to be in Sofia or is it just an unhappy coincidence? Mr. Thurston, you didn't expect me to abandon you in such a crisis? Why not? You've done it before. Yes, but only for money, in case of extreme necessity. And speaking of necessity, Mr. Thurston, there is a little item... What already? Well, in addition to the normal traveling expenses, it was expensive to find out your destination. Taxi drivers, baggage masks... Not the pennies, Zagan. Our relationship at the present is purely social. No, well, I... In that case, I guess I'd better get back to my ratchet job. Just a minute. What does Anton Gubek mean to you? Oh, you are a very fine psychologist, Mr. Thurston. When you say Gubek, I think of money. And what else? What else is there to think of, Mr. Thurston? All right. What do you know about Gubek? Well, I know he returned to Sofia on this afternoon's plane. This afternoon? Yes, I understand that Mr. Gubek was delayed in Cairo. On my way down to my miserable work this evening, I saw him enter his own house with his luggage. Oh, a perfect abomination of Rococo. It's over there in 47 Koshkobo Boulevard. 47 Koshkobo Boulevard. Yes, and now, excuse me, Mr. X, and the beautiful madame, I must return. It is my turn to play a solo, or a war, madame. And if you should need further assistance, Mr. X, I have very flexible business hours. Mr. Zagon is a comedian, Ken. Oh, he's amusing enough, but he's got a price list for every laugh. Anna, I hate to bring such a charming evening to a close so quickly, but I want to talk to Gubek tonight. So if you don't mind, I'll see you home first. Oh, don't bother, Ken. Just put me in a cab. After all, my house is a long way from Koshkobo Boulevard. Oh, officer, I came here to see Mr. Gubek. There's Mr. Gubek in there, on the floor. Dead. Wait a minute. This isn't Gubek. Oh, no. Well, who do you think it is? This isn't the man I talked to at Gubek's office yesterday afternoon. I don't know anything about that. But this man is Anton Gubek. Then who was the man I talked to? Tonight's exploit of the man called X, starring Herbert Marshall. But first, a word from the men and women of Lockheed. Ladies and gentlemen, the Lockheed constellation is the largest, fastest, highest-flying land transport in use today. It is capable of carrying 64 passengers, crew, and cargo across the nation in seven hours. Its four engines provide a cruising speed of better than 300 miles an hour, and the flight's ceiling are well over 20,000 feet. Now, all these facts might indicate to you that while the constellation is a fine airplane, its use will be confined to long flights between super airports. This isn't true, of course. For all its size and speed and power, the constellation easily takes off and lands in any standard airport. Furthermore, even on short flights of 100 and 200 miles, it has been found to operate more efficiently and more economically than the ordinary two-engine transport you fly in today. Thus, while the constellation is serving the air forces now, tomorrow it may serve the airport in your town. As an airline local or as a transcontinental express, it will offer you swift, comfortable, safe transportation to neighboring cities or to lands beyond the horizon. Again, ladies and gentlemen, remember the name the Lockheed Constellation, another example of Lockheed leadership. Now, to return to tonight's exploit of Mr. X, whose search for the murderer of his friend, Petko Todorovich, has led him to Sofia, Bulgaria, only to discover that his only suspect, Anton Gubeck, dubious Yugoslav bunker, also has been murdered. As we join him, he is in his hotel room Mr. X, I am humiliated at having to bring up such a personal subject, but... You don't look very humiliated to me, Zagan. Oh, well, I was so excited in my first solo appearance as a violinist that I neglected to conclude my negotiations with you at the café. I don't recall any negotiations. But, Mr. X, remember, I divided invaluable information about the unfortunate Mr. Gubeck. Oh, in that case, you owe me money. Your invaluable information ran me right up a blind alley. Well, then, perhaps you'll be even more interested in Mr. Macek, resident of the Macedonian National Bank. Such an interesting story and not too expensive. Well, perhaps you'll say Dobroveci, chairman of the Board of Directors of the Sofia Exchange. Now, wait a minute. What kind of double talk is this, Zagan? No, no, no, no. No talk, names and figures, all here. See? On this. Microfil. Zagan, where did you get this? Do not misunderstand me, Mr. X. I'm a man of scruples, but she was so beautiful. And I was only looking for her address. Who's address? Looking where? Your beautiful friend, of course, when her handbag lay on the table in the cafe. Sagan, it's hard to believe there could be worse scoundrels than you. But there are, and not half so amusing. Again, I am humiliated having to bring up a personal subject. Perhaps these American daughters will save you from further embarrassment. They do. I, you know, have recovered my dignity. And now, as an honorable man, I must return this property to the beautiful lady. That, Sagan, is a pleasure I shall reserve for myself. Good evening, Anna. I wondered what happened to you. You didn't call. You didn't... It was just a comedy of errors and mistaken identity, that's all. What? Now, you see, Gubbeck isn't Gubbeck at all, or wasn't, I should say. What do you mean? I could put it this way. Gubbeck is dead. Long live Gubbeck. Gubbeck is dead? Yes, but the man I thought was Gubbeck is still alive. And most important of all, whoever he is, he's the murderer of Petko. And he's here in Sofia. Oh, how could he be? Petko was murdered in New York. And, oh, but, Ken, dear, let us not talk about this tonight. All right. Shall we talk about a summer in Switzerland long ago? Oh, yes. About our scrambling for hours to get to the top of some place only to ski down in a few seconds, laughing at time and space. Ken, you remember too. We were above the world, out of the world, out. Did this violin belong to Petko? Yes, Ken. I told you he loved to play just for himself. Then he must have picked up the one he had in New York at the music shop where I saw him. I wondered why he did not take this one with him, but he left so suddenly. Oh, but, Ken, let us turn back the clock again. And remember, you return to America without my ever telling you. Telling me what, Anna? And it was you, Ken. You, darling, kiss me like you once did when... Anna, something I must tell you about. Yes, my... A letter for you from Petko. You wrote it just before he died. Oh. Oh, you will read it to me, Ken. Dearest Anna, you will never know the agonies I've suffered being away from you. And you will never know how I feel having to leave you again. But my darling day and night, I dream of the time when we may be together once more. So, bless you, and a million kisses from your loving Petko. Oh, poor Petko. Now, let me read it again. Dearest Anna, you will never know the agonies I've suffered being away from you. And you will never know how I feel. Ken. Ken, why don't you go on? Anna, the person who began this letter didn't finish it. Yes, Petko started typing, but see, beginning here, the touch is different, a much lighter touch. Somebody else finished the letter. But who? Somebody who didn't want to be exposed as an accomplice in an international blackmail racket. Someone connected with the music shop in New York City. Sounds incredible, doesn't it? But you did use the music shop, didn't you, Anna? Is this some kind of fairy tale, Ken? Petko got suspicious. He had evidence in microfilm. And when he traced you to that music shop in New York, he had a hard decision to make. Go on, Ken. And so, when he went back to the hotel, he sat down to write you a letter. What he intended to write was, you will never know how I feel having discovered what you really are. So, Anna, you had to shoot him. Complete the letter as your alibi and get back here. And by what magic do you know all this? No magic at all. I believe this letter. Until you yourself show me how wrong I was. I showed you? You were the only one who knew. I came here to see Gubeck. And you made sure I wouldn't see him. He's the man I talked with, Gubeck's office, Anna. Oh, you must be joking. Unfortunately, this microfilm here is not very funny. Whoever this man is, he's dreamed up an insidious blackmail racket using photostatic records of secret negotiations between the Nazis and bankers in some of the occupied countries. And he's making them pay off to save their necks from their own people as their countries are liberated. You are speaking about me, Mr. X? Oh, there you are. Whoever you are. But not Gubeck, eh? Schmutzige Schreinigl? So, the trademark of a Nazi. And the portrait is complete. Even to the gun in your hand. This isn't a picture, Mr. X. It works. I don't doubt it. I've seen enough evidence that it does. Your gun worked, too, didn't it, Anna? No wonder Petko didn't look me up when he came to New York. He was ashamed to let me know that his devoted Anna had turned traitor. Not only to his great love for her, but to her people. To her country. Why did you do it, Anna? Was it money? Was it because Petko lost everything he had when the Nazis moved here? Stop! I can imagine what Petko went through when he found you in New York. When he discovered what you were doing, what you'd become. He tried to tell you in a letter, but you never let him finish it. Kill him, Willie! Don't let him talk anymore! Now, stand aside, Anna. The lights. Who turned them off? Oh! I swear by the father of my father of my father I am meanest, and I didn't do it. Zagan, you! Oh, it's you, Mr. Thurston. What big hands you have. Can you... can you find the light switch? Zagan? Naturally. I just turned it off. All right. There. And they've got away. You mean the beautiful lady and my friend, Gancho? Gancho. So that's who he is. No, he's a lot of people. But mostly he was really high-necked, a very high man once, a useful aide to von Papen himself. Hmm, an unpleasant character. Well, Zagan, you saved my life by turning off that light. Yes, and for no compensation either. Alas, now I am in a pickle. Gancho and his gypsies gone, my violin gone. And without a violin, Zagan is without a ton. That'll be a new experience. But if it's a violin you want, there's one. Oh. Oh, that's a treasure. When I played with the Amsterdam Symphony, I had a Guarnerius on my last concert tour in Budapest. It was an Amati. And now, I'm going to play another one of Gancho's cheese boxes. Wait, give me that fiddle. Why didn't I think of this before? That flat throne. It may not be a Stradivarius, Mr. X, but that is vandalism. Look, Zagan, the sound post. It should be cheese. Instead of a solid piece of hardwood, it's a hollow tube. In it, a roll of microfilm. So, this is how your friend Gancho concealed his blackmailing evidence and shipped it abroad. No wonder I could never play the Paganini cadenza from Mendelsohn's concert on a Gancho violin. Zagan, you wanted the job. You have one. I'm open to suggestion for a slight consideration, of course. You know where Gancho has gone? Not yet, Mr. X, but Zagan is not only a virtuoso, he's also a blutown. Crossing the border to find you here in Yugoslavia. And how did you know where we'd be, Zagan? What do you not remember? You said the man who makes all your violins was here in this village. You are a friend of Thurston's. Why did you follow us? Oh, my dear lady, is that not obvious? You and Gancho are in a flourishing condition, so to speak, and you will be interested in the information about Mr. Thurston at a reasonable price, of course. So, it would be much cheaper to liquidate you than to bargain with you. But the information... I'll give it to you for nothing. Don't surprise me like that, and please, Mr. Thurston, just put down that gun, surely you don't think that I... Zagan, I know you too well. You always tried to double your profit, so I followed you. And now I suppose you will kill us. I'm neither judge nor executioner, my dear. I'll leave that to the proper authorities. In this case, who will be more proper to judge you than your own people of Yugoslavia whom you betrayed? What are they doing, Mr. X? I can't bear to look. I don't wonder. You're lucky you're not against that wall yourself. Please don't say things like that. How different from a pleasant summer in Switzerland a long time ago. A fine friend and a beautiful girl. Seems like two different worlds, Zagan. One of those worlds has ended. A world of treachery and terror. Last hour, Mr. Herbert Marshall returns to tell you about next week's exploit of the man called X. Here is an announcement from Lockheed. Ladies and gentlemen, when the war is over and the final count is taken on those American industries contributing most to victory, the nation's airlines will stand near the top of the list. Here at home, the airlines have worked tirelessly night and day to speed essential passengers and cargo. Overseas, the nation's airline crews operating for the Air Transport Command have flown to almost every point on the globe. Many notables have been piloted by airline men on over-ocean trips. President Roosevelt, Generalissimo and Madam Chiang Kai-shek, Generals Marshall, Eisenhower and Arnold, Admiral's King and Lehi, Queen Wilhelmina, Secretary of War, Stimpson and many others. Taken together, airline crews have crossed the oceans thousands of times and have flown many millions of miles to foreign shores. Yes, the airlines of America are doing a vital job in the war effort, a job that foretells a great age of flight that you and every American will enjoy in peacetime days to come. Mr. Herbert Marshall. Next week, I look forward to flying to the colorful West Indies where a strange death occurs within the walls of an ancient church where the only clue is a message that says nothing but OK. All leading to a climax involving a ton of high explosives. So join us once when next I return as the man called X. This is presented by the Lockheed Aircraft Corporation. Tonight's exploit was written by Milton Merlin. Original music was composed and conducted by Felix Mills. The entire production was under the direction of Jack Johnstone. Mr. Marshall's appearance is through courtesy of Metro Golden Mayor, producers of the technicolor picture Kismet. The men and women of Lockheed invite you to join Mr. X again next week. Same time, same session. John McIntyre speaking. This is the Blue Network.