 Standard of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West, invites you to let George do it. Come and get me another adventure of George Valentine. Personal notice. Dangerous my stock and trade. If wine's got you in a spin and you need someone to pull you out of it, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Dear Mr. Valentine, are you an imbecile? I trust not. Yet fear you will betray that trust. To look for intelligence in this morassive idiocy known as contemporary civilization is to embark on a search much less likely to succeed than the one pursued by diogenes. However, let me state my difficulty. I have committed a perfect crime. Alas, too perfect, because I now find it necessary to confess my guilt. But no one will believe me. If you do happen to have enough sense to comprehend the possibility of my being a murderer, I should like to engage you to help me prove it to the proper authorities. Awaiting an early reply, I am Winslow Barker. Huh? George, don't be so smug. Didn't you hear me? The man wants you to prove he's a murderer. Well, no accounting for taste, St. John. Oh, he must be crazy. Might be. Well, no sane person would write a letter like that. Still, he raised an interesting question. He wants to know if I'm an imbecile. What do you think, Booksy? Are you going to take this letter seriously? Then the answer to his question is yes. Good of you to come, Valentine, and you, Miss Booksy. Thank you. Not at all, Mr. Barker. This we had to hear. Well, here we are. Refreshment before we get down to business, eh? See how you like that. Little concoction of my own. Oh, thanks, Barker. Long life, even though you don't happen to subscribe to that old-fashioned notion. Oh, this is delicious. Yeah. Pools. What's that? You will notice I lifted my glass to my lips, but I did not drink. Yet you both went right ahead. How do you feel? How should we feel? Oh, it never occurred to you that I'd poison you, did it? Hey, wait a minute, Buster. With pleasure? Why should you poison us? Who knows? But this fact you do know. I am a confessed murderer. Yet you take not the simplest precaution. Ah, Booksy, remind me to buy a portable stomach pump. Not the joking matter, Mr. Valentine. You know, I may be quite mad. Don't try to tell me you really have poisoned us. Very well. Wait and see. Oh, what have you? Yes, wait and see. The lady said have you? No, Mr. Valentine. As a matter of fact, I haven't poisoned you. You're perfectly all right. Perfectly? You just took ten years off my life. Oh, no, I haven't poisoned you, but I have tested you, Mr. Valentine. Yeah, how do I do, Professor? Your complete lack of caution indicates but two possibilities. One, you're like all the rest. You don't take me seriously. You don't believe I am a murderer. Or two, you're fantastically stupid. In either case, you're of little use to me now. Good day. Not so fast, Parker. Let's ride with possibility number one for a minute. Oh, you don't believe that I am a murderer. Is that it? A man's presumed to be innocent, Parker. Even if he presumes himself to be guilty? Well, I'm willing to be shown. Who'd you kill? Donald Anderson. I want you to prove it so the police will come and get me. Why did you kill him? Anderson was ugly. Ugly in mind and in spirit. So I removed him. Just like that, huh? Yes, just like that. And no one knew. But now you want them to know. Yes. You think I'm mad? No. You don't. You must be crazy. All sane people think I'm a crackpot. Just why do you want the world to know you're a murderer? Well, you see, Anderson's wife, Teresa, has been arrested for the murder. Now, I didn't anticipate that the police would be so gullible. Oh, I don't want anyone else to have to pay for my deed. I see. I've confessed. And the police laugh at me. They have their suspect. They don't want to admit they're wrong. Oh, but they are devilishly wrong. And it's up to us to prove it. Well, Valentine, will you take the case? Oh, what have I got to lose except my time and your money? And I have lots of time. And I have lots of money. Yes. Perhaps you are worthy of the assignment after all. Thanks. Now, is there anything at all to prove that you killed Anderson? No, not a thing. That's the trouble. I was too brilliant, too disgustingly brilliant. There's not a shred of evidence. Oh, great. But don't you worry, Valentine, with your brawn and my brains, we'll find something. Valentine, you can save your energy on this, Anderson, case. We have it all served up. Maybe you dropped a couple of stitches, Lieutenant. It could have come apart at the seams. I'll go away. Well, I'm busy. Okay, okay, if you want to besmirch your sterling record by helping to convict the wrong man. Or, uh, in this case, it's a woman, isn't it, Riley? You know, Don, well, it's a woman. Oh, okay, what's your angle, Valentine? Winslow Parker. Huh? Oh, no, no, not that slap-happy lunatic. Yeah, that slap-happy lunatic. What makes you so sure he didn't do the job? Because we happened to know Anderson's wife did it. Well, how about briefing me on the reasons? Well, okay. Uh, motive? Mrs. Anderson was in love with somebody else, Jonathan Gaines. But her husband wouldn't give her a divorce. I see. Now, uh, opportunity, she was in the house when it happened. Anything else? Plenty. A couple of days before the murder, she buys a gun. Right after the murder, she gives the gun to her boyfriend, Mr. Gaines. And when we try to get it from him, he says he lost it. We're supposed to swallow that. He lost the gun. Why didn't she say she gave him the gun to hang it on a slave bracelet? She says she was afraid her husband was going to try to kill Gaines and she wanted him to be able to protect himself. Claims she didn't know at the time her husband was already dead. Uh, Riley, maybe she's telling the truth. Oh, come up with power, will ya? It's an open and shut case. All we need is the gun to clinch it. And I think we can hang it on her even without it. Especially with, uh, Farnsworth testimony. Hey, now, wait a minute. Who's Farnsworth? An added starter? He's Valet. He overheard Mrs. Anderson giving the gun to Gaines and practically admitting she did the job. Well, satisfied yet? Not quite. What more do you want? Conversation, Riley. Conversation. With a Valet. I dearly love the sound of those bells, but come on, somebody, come on, answer the door. Come to think of it, George, will Farnsworth be here? His master is dead and the master's wife is in jail. I understand the house is going to be so, Brooks. His servants are staying on to do the plight. George? Yeah. It's a high seat with a kick in it. Come on, come on, open up in there. Hear anyone coming? Yeah, I think so. Yes? Say, what plays here? Nothing, sir. We heard screams. She remarked right. Oh, that miss. That was only Jesse. Only Jesse? Who's Jesse? The upstairs me. Well, what happened to her? Nothing. Oh, just trying out for the metropolitan auditions. Well, if you must know, sir, she's a sinner and I don't like sin. Oh, great. Well, what did you do to Jesse? She'll be all right, sir. That's not what he asked. Very well. I struck her. Well, who are you to go around punishing sinners? Somebody must see that right prevails. Okay, Buster, okay. Where's Jesse now? In the kitchen. Hey, Buster, go in and look after the girl while I have a talk with this avenging angel. All right, sir. Now, Farnsworth, you are Farnsworth, aren't you? Yes, sir. Well, I'm coming in and ask you a few questions. You can close the door. Very well, sir. What do you wish to ask about? Mr. Anderson's murder. Ah, yes, the murder. Unfortunate occurrence, but then one must expect such things. Must one? Must one. But after all, that's life, isn't it? First thing you know, you're dead. Ah, yes, that's life. Oh, brother, Charlie Chan with the wrong accent. Now, look, I understand you overheard Mrs. Anderson giving a gun to Mr. Gaines and asking him to get rid of it. Correct. However, I should like you to understand, sir, I'm not in the habit of eavesdropping, but when there has been a murder, I choose it once duty as it is. Yeah, yeah, Farnsworth, you and your duty. I simply press the point because, as a gentleman's gentleman, I know how my fellow gentleman's gentleman would feel if it were thought that one of their fellow gentleman's gentlemen was no gentleman. Do you follow? I think I lost you about two gentlemen back. But now look, what I want to know, Farnsworth, you're absolutely sure you heard Mrs. Anderson tell Mr. Gaines to get rid of that gun? Quite so, sir. She said, and I quote, I've done something terrible, Jonathan. I killed Donald. You take this gun and get rid of it for me before the police get here. I quote, you're sure she said that? Absolutely, sir. However, since you repeat the question, am I to take it that you doubt my memory or my veracity? Well, frankly, Farnsworth, you're a doubtful character, name and all. You belong in a book. Oh, Bruxy, how's the center? Oh, she's busy confining Farnsworth to the place he thinks she's going. Well, in that case, I guess there's nothing more for us to do around here. Come on, let's go. Where? Police headquarters, Bruxy. You want to join us, Farnsworth? I? Why, no, sir. Don't you know it's old hat to suspect the butler or the valet? Now, would you please look, Lieutenant? She refused to take my clients seriously because you've got a harder suspect. But suppose I can toss a bucket of ice water on your hot suspect? All right, Valentine. Toss. Okay, the valet, Farnsworth, is one of your chief witnesses, right? So? So? Did you know he's a religious fanatic or one-man vice squad? Again, so? All right, now. Mrs. Anderson has been, shall we say, wandering a bit. Now that's your big motive. And believe me, the way this Farnsworth is whacked up, it's just the sort of thing that would make him decide that it's his duty to punish her. Oh, you think Farnsworth is framing her for the murder as punishment for waltzing in two times? Oh, it's amazing how clear I make myself sometimes. But we know part of his story is true. The Anderson woman admits giving games the gun, and he admits getting it from her. Yeah, but she doesn't admit the murder. Now, look, it's no use, Valentine. Mrs. Anderson gave games that gun for him to get rid of. Okay. Well, well, why should she, unless she committed the murder? Riley, I've been checking. Anderson didn't have any cash when he died. House was mortgaged to the health. Everything he had was tied up in a heavy insurance policy. He bought a year and a half before he died. All right. All right, well, don't you see? Barker could have killed Anderson with Mrs. Anderson's gun, and left the gun by the corpse. Mrs. Anderson finds it, thinks her husband has committed suicide. So she takes the gun away and tells Gaines to get rid of it so she'll be convicted of murder. Ah, for the love of... She wanted it to look like murder instead of suicide. But she didn't count on finds worth pinning the murder on her. But why would she want it? Oh, you're a dazzling sight, Riley, when you light up. Yeah, the insurance. The company wouldn't pay off on a suicide since the policy was less than two years old. Well... Well, stop gloating, Valentine. You could still be wrong. Stop griping, Lieutenant. I still could be right. Okay, okay. I suppose I'd better look into it. Yeah, force yourself. I think I'll go report to my client. He'll be delighted to know I've practically got him at the door of the gas chamber. Well, I wonder what the little man who isn't all there will pull this time. My stomach is still doing nip-ups from that poison prank. Well, soon see, Bruce. Wait a minute. Stand back, Angel. Somebody just came out of Barker's apartment. What's too late? He already saw it. Yeah, and he covered his face to make sure we can't see him. Hey, you! Just a minute! Stay back! I said stay back! Yeah, you okay, Angel? Oh, I'm fine, yeah. He didn't want to hit us. He aimed at the floor to make a stop. He took the back stairs. Oh, darling, did you see who it was? No, he kept one hand in front of his face. Well, let's get into Barker's and see what this is all about. Okay. Now, but aren't you being optimistic, darling? Expecting Barker to make any sense? I'm just an old Pollyanna. Oh, hello, Valentine. And Mr. Bruce. Mr. Barker? What happened to you? You've gone 15 rounds with a gorilla. Well, I... I... Turn to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. To get the best out of your car and to get economy through longer mileage, rely on Chevron Supreme gasoline. This premium quality gasoline is factually blended to give your car all these advantages. Master starts every time you press the starter. Speed you warm-ups, electric getaway, and heavy traffic driving, and ping-free power that lifts your car over the hill. What's more, Chevron Supreme is climate tailored, tailored to the season of the year, and to different temperature and altitude zones in the West. So wherever you drive, and the year-round, you can't buy a better gasoline for today's high-compression engine. Just try a tank full of Chevron Supreme tomorrow. Get it at standard stations and at independent Chevron gas stations, they say, and mean, we take better care of your car. Now, back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. A man hires you to prove he is guilty of murder. After beautifully questioning his sanity, you succeed in turning police suspicion from there into suspect to your client. In the due course of events, a 30th character takes a few shots at you. And a moment later, your client himself comes to the door of his apartment and drops at your feet, being like George Valentine. You don't rock all the way back on your heels because all along, you've sniffed the proverbial rodent. He's coming too, George. Hey, Parker. Parker, can you hear me? What happened? Nothing. Nothing. If your eyes weren't swollen shut by whoever worked you over, I'd tell you to go look in a mirror. Now, I'll bet you're idea of nothing. I mean, I mean nothing to do with the murder. No. No. It was just a burglar. You don't say. What did he take? Hey, Parker. Oh, he's passed out again, George. Yeah, you need to get on the phone and call a doctor. Yes, right. Yeah, look at this. What, George? Some boards on the floor have been fried up. Oh. Parker must have had something hidden under there. Oh, it's nothing to stall on after all. Come on, hurry up with that phone, Brooksy. I want to talk to Lieutenant Riley. Well, I got here as fast as I could, Valentine. Now what goes? Maybe you can tell me, Lieutenant. All right, George. I just got a question, Parker, now. Oh, thanks, Brooksy. Come on, Riley. Glad we're here. Well, I want things, obviously, Lieutenant. He's lying about this being just an ordinary robbery. Whatever was under that floor was turning with a murder somehow. Well, maybe you're right. And whoever took it knew that Parker had it and beat him into telling where it was hidden. That's the way it stacks up behind you. Oh, how are you, Parker? How are you feeling now? Oh, a little better things. Hello, Lieutenant. I'm here under protest. I have some good news for you, my friend. Oh, what? Well, I've convinced the good Lieutenant that there's something to your story after all. And if we stick together and work hard enough, we can make sure you dive an overdose of the gas chamber. That's right, Parker. You want me to believe you killed Anderson? Well, I'm willing to go along. So, suppose you give me the details and then we can go into what happened here. Ha-ha-ha. I had you sized up right, Valentine. You did a thorough job. Therefore, I'd like to engage you for still another little task. I trust you'll be as successful. What now? Now, I want you to prove that I did not kill Anderson. What? What did he say? Listen, you, I'll have you committed. I'll have you hunted. Don't shout, Lieutenant. I have a spitting headache. Oh, I give up. Very well, Lieutenant. You give up. How about you, Valentine? Are you as easily confounded? I'm confounded, all right. Oh, you won't take the case. What and say that? Now, look, Valentine, look. You just got through trying to prove this... Well, whatever he is, is guilty. Now, do you mean to tell me that you're going to turn right around? What can I do, Lieutenant? After all, the customer is always right. I'm aside. Hello, Riley. Oh, it's you, huh? Look, sign off with you, pal. I'm a busy man. I haven't got time to talk to lunatics. But Riley... You're as wacky as that client of yours. Then humor me so I don't get quiet. Uh... What do you want? The bullets. Okay, Valentine. I got the report right here. Those bullets came from the same gun that killed Anderson. Don't worry. Yeah. We're always getting somewhere. I'd like to stay put for a change. Tell me something about that fellow Gaines, Lieutenant. You're not holding him, are you? No. Now, we haven't been able to tie him to the actual murder. We booked him for his shenanigans with the gun, but he's out on bail. Why? Oh, I think I have a talk with him. Now, where is that going to get you? There's no telling, Riley. If I'm real lucky, maybe somebody will try to kill me. We won't take up much of your time, Mr. Gaines. All right. What do you want, Valentine? I'll make a few notes with the books. Yes, George. But look, Valentine, I told the police everything I know. I'm not the police. But you could have asked them. Oh, they'd think I'm crazy. Well, who am I to argue with the law? You mean you won't tell them? Depends on what you ask. Well, first of all, how well do you know Winslow Parker? I don't. Never heard of him. Well, then... Uh, just a second while I answer that. Yeah, sure. George. Hmm? He's not going to be much help. Well, I bet. Well, I can still be back. I'm not going to talk. But you're... Just a stall, Booksy. All I wanted was to get a good look at him, I have. Meaning? He's the impulsive lad who was at Parker's, the one who was bouncing bullets off the floor. Are you sure? Positive. He tried to hide his face when he was there, but I saw him up. And I recognized his voice, too. Then he's lying. He does know our erratic client. And now that I know it was Gaines who made that hasty ace, and it all fits. Oh, don't keep it a secret. Well, look, Parker hired me to prove he killed Anderson. Yeah. And all of a sudden, he wants me to prove he didn't kill Anderson. I know. I was there, remember? Okay, then. Why the switch? Well, don't ask me. This is your part. Well, look, consider when Parker made the switch. Right after something was stolen from him. So, wasn't it reasonable to assume that the thing that was stolen, whatever it was, had a definite bearing on the case and on his changing his mind? All right, but what was this thing, as you so descriptively call it? Look, Angel, the person who did the stealing fired at me. And the police have proved he fired from the murder gun. He had the gun, so couldn't that be what he stole? Maybe. Okay, let's go back to the murder. We never left it very far behind. Now, look, I've built up a theory around Anderson's insurance policy. You mean that the company wouldn't pay off in case of suicide? Yeah, but there's another situation in which they wouldn't pay off. And that seems to be the real cause of everything that's happened. What? The insurance company wouldn't pay if the beneficiary killed in order to collect. Oh, now I see what you're driving. Yeah, Mrs. Anderson kills her husband, gives the gun to Gaines to get rid of it. But Parker happens to see Gaines throw away the gun. He gets it and tries to blackmail Gaines and Mrs. Anderson with it. Very neat. The gun is registered in Mrs. Anderson's name so that if it's found and proven to be the murder weapon, it cleans the case again. The trial would be just a civilized formality, Brooksie. But she can't pay blackmail because she has no money and can't collect the insurance as long as she's suspected of the murder. So Parker agrees to confess so that Mrs. Anderson can collect and pay him off. That's it, Brooksie. He plays it wacky, hoping to get off with an insanity plea. But he has an ace up his sleeve in case anything goes wrong. The gun. If he is convicted of first-degree murder, he can always throw the guilt back on Mrs. Anderson by producing the murder weapon. That is he could until Gaines stole it. Exactly. Gaines let Parker stick his neck out, then stole the gun from him, hoping to pin the murder on Parker. Gaines and Mrs. Anderson walk hand-in-hand into the sunset. Be neat. Nicely put, Valentine. Ah, my. What big ears you have. Don't move. Either of you. Why should we? We're just as relaxed as a waitlifter and a barbell, Ed. This is the gun you were talking so much about, Valentine. Looks like it still has one more job to do. You're so right. It has. Riley. Stop it, Gaines. What? You heard the lieutenant. Careful, George. Let it drop or you'll be carrying this arm around in a paper bag. Well, you know, some time you'll have to show me how you do that, Valentine. Yeah, just call me gorgeous, George. Gaines, you were right about this gun having one more job to do. It's going to sell out the case against you and Mrs. Anderson. This time for good. I've got to hand it to you, Valentine. How do you do it? Oh, clean thoughts, fasting, daily shower. Sending in box top. First you prove Barker guilty, then you prove a menace. Well, I ain't pleased. Then you trick Gaines into producing the murder gun. Oh, getting him off of the phone for a fake call was my idea. You risk your own life. Brooks is here, and not that it matters. Mine. And where do we wind up? Where? Well, Lieutenant... I'll tell you. Just where we started. I already had Mrs. Anderson booked for murder. Remember? Yeah, but before your whole case rested on the testimony of a feather-headed valet, even though he was telling the truth, a good lawyer would have tied him in knots. True. I see you're standing on your constitutional rights and admitting not. Well, Riley, now that gun is your clincher and with Barker involved, you have him as a witness too. He'll talk, so you'll go easy with that blackmail rep. Okay, Valentine, okay. You know you've got everything. Courage, brain, ingenuity, bulldog, perseverance, everything. Why, Lieutenant, you forgot his most important asset. And it's so obvious. Come on, Angel. Come on. What didn't you ever notice? When he smiles, there's almost a dimple in his left cheek. Anyone who has ever run a vacuum cleaner knows it has to be empty to regular intervals or it's no go. Same thing holds true for your car's engine. That's why a crankcase drain and a refill with compounded RPM motor oil at regular intervals is so all-important. You see, RPM has a special detergent compound that cleans as it lubricates. It controls the harmful wear-causing particles that collect in any engine, prevents them from depositing on and scratching finely polished interior engine parts, and gets rid of them when you have the oil change. And RPM not only keeps your car's engine cleaner, it fights off corrosion, rust-proofs internal engine parts, and clings to the hot spots left bare and exposed to wear by ordinary motor oils. Next time you ask for motor oil, ask for RPM motor oil. Regular use of RPM means added life for your car's engine. No wonder RPM is first choice in the West. Get it tomorrow at any independent chevron gas station or standard station, where they say, and mean, we take better care of your car. Next week we'll come upon George Valentine in the study of a luxurious home in an exclusive section of the city, and Bruxy will be saying... George, I was just trying out this type, right? I know, Bruxy, I heard you. But don't you see? Yeah, the lady lied. Well, you mean, you think she took a shot at her husband and then came to us? Why would Peggy admit it? I don't know, Angel, I don't know. But unless I have the proud Victoria sized up all wrong, the lady is still out to do murder. This 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. Robert Bailey is starred as George with Frances Robinson as Claire. Wally Mayer appears as Lieutenant Riley. Let George Do It is written by David Victor and Herbert Little Jr. and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Joe Kearns as Barker, Gane Whitman as Farnsworth, and Bob Bruce as Gaines. The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunstetter. Your announcer, John Heaston. Listen again next week, same time, same station, to Let George Do It. This is the Mutual Downly Broadcasting System.