 Personal notice, changes 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. Standard Oil Company of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West, invites you to let George do it. The Witch of Mill Hollow, another adventure of George Valentine. My dear Mr. Valentine, my name is Salis Oric, and from my experience as editor of a small town weekly newspaper, I know that I'll have to say but a few words in order to attract your attention. Let me only preface my statement with a remark that Mill Hollow is just an ordinary town with an ordinary number of secrets and the ordinary amount of gossip. That until a year ago, we all got along quite well together, without any disturbing element to ruffle the surface of our peaceful existence. Further, that this is the year 1950, and what happened seems almost impossible. What happened, it did. And yet now, as of this morning, our town is once more peaceful. The disturbing element is no more. And why? Because Mr. Valentine, last night there was a fire, and in that fire, the witch was burned. Oh, now wait a minute, Mr. Valentine. There ain't no such thing as witches, you know that. I don't care what Cy Oric wrote you, he's sort of a windbag anyway. But we wanted your opinion, Mr. Sterns. He ought to be back in his office over there pretty soon. I'm a busy man to name his brooks a couple of real estate deals. Mr. Sterns, we can catch Oric later all right, but the cleaning woman at his place, Olga, says, you're the man who can tell us the facts in a hurry. Says here in Mill Hollow, you're the head of the fire department. Well, all right, come on in. Fire department. In addition to my other duties, I am proud of it. Sort of a volunteer basis. But we got three boys unregular in two trucks. And there was a fire last night, huh? Sit down. We even got prizes for competition with the other small town departments. I keep them on their toes, let me tell you. But last night, wasn't there a fire? Mr. Valentine, let's get this absolutely straight. Yes, there was a fire. The old mill itself went up. Oh, it's nothing but a ramshackle land mocked down by the quick back of Widow Lawrence's property. Good for nothing but spooners and cobwebs. Condemned it myself as a hazard five years ago. It went up around midnight like a four-alarmor in Hades. See the flames ten miles. Well, when it was over, one of the boys spotted, uh, what used to be a woman. Was that the witch? That's her name. A couple of kids said they'd seen her out late, seen her sneaking up to this place, the mill. You mean she was, she was alone out there? Of course, and I'm telling you from man. And the fact that I can't find a trace of intent in the fire itself, in seniorism to you, that nobody in the proper sense of it got burned, that is, by anybody else. Miss Abby just got herself trapped in an accident. Unless she set fire to the place herself. But I just told you that... Oh, I don't know. The witch is burned, period. That's what everybody says. What was she doing out there anyway at that time of night? Well, how should I know why a witch does it? Yes, you were the one who said there aren't any such things as witches. Well, she wasn't one the way I remember her. I never had any trouble with Miss Abby. How is it you do remember her, Mr. Stearns? Doc Ransom, I suppose he could give you a better idea of what made people hate her. The kids be afraid of her. Made her be so ugly the way she peered at you. She shook her umbrella. Oh, little Miss Abby, and she's dead now. Out there at the mill to put a spell on the place. That's what the kids think. Well, go on, go on. Tell me about it. What is it you remember? Well, she was the piano teacher. Yes, piano teacher. That's the main thing. Just as nice to everybody. Never spoke a hard word, but a whisper of gossip crossed her lips, not for 20, 25 years, many. Regular institution, just like choir practice or the town elm trees. Only, well, about a year, though, I remember the change began. One of my daughters was taking a lesson while the wife and I listened. I remember the wife's dog, big fat spanula it was. He was howling along at the piano the way he always was. One, two, three. Some under faster, some under faster. Start again. One, two, three. Keep your wrist out, that's better. Four, five, six, seven, eight. He doesn't bother you, does he, Miss Abby? The dog doing that. My lads, no. Wrist. One, two. Be dead soon anyway. Let him enjoy himself. Wrist up. One, two, three. Miss Abby, what did you say? Wrist up, that's it. About the dog. The dog. Why, just that he'll be dead. The big fat nuisance won't whine anymore. He'll be dead very soon. Miss Abby. It's a strange, what's the matter? What did I...? She fainted right there on the piano. I remember she came to and said it was just the heat. Nobody mentioned the dog again, of course. Oh, now look. Doc Ransom, he can tell you more than I can. I don't know how our reputation gets started. I'd warned my wife myself about that spaniel. Feeding it so much and he was so old and wheezy, was a nuisance too. Only, well, I'll tell you this. Next morning the dog died. Fred's turns is a fool. I don't know why a sweet little lady should start saying strange things. A country doctor, Mr. Valentine, is not a psychiatrist or any high... But Dr. Ransom, Miss Abby did change about a year ago. Oh, the ugliness. That's glands, I suppose. And suddenly talking so much might be from the repression of the years of silence. But I never had any trouble with Miss Abby. She never cut loose on me anymore and she did on Auric or with a Lawrence. What do you mean cut loose? The whole town seems to be buzzing with the idea that a witch got burned. Now, can you blame me for being curious why Miss Abby went up in such spontaneous combustion in the midst of such universal dislike? In the midst of fire, you mean. An accident. Oh, I don't know, Mr. Valentine. Of course there's no such thing as predicting death or being in tune with the supernatural, but what? Oh, shooting a mouth off it at funny times. A wedding rehearsal once, I remember that. Nothing to do with her or me or anything else, but just funny the way it happened. That's all. People don't even live here anymore. Miss Abby was playing the music. Anyway, just a fancy rehearsal. Everybody patting each other on the back. Big, successful marriage. Only a long raid in the middle of it. And what am I playing this for? Does anybody have any idea? Why play for rehearsal of a wedding that's never going to happen? Doesn't anybody else know there's not going to be a wedding? Doesn't anybody else know there just isn't going to be any wedding tomorrow? Because there isn't, you know. There isn't. There just isn't. Of course there wasn't a wedding, but don't get the idea Miss Abby predicted it, or put a hex on it. Well, the bride seems she was mixed up with some other boy, married him instead, later on. But the point is the old lady liked to spill secrets, is that it? I don't know how she could have known. Maybe she didn't even know she was doing it, or why? Yes, it seems to me Miss Abby was just a little... A little crazy, yeah. A lot of people thought that. There was even a growing move on to put her away. Everybody's always been so fond of her before, but I tell you, I wouldn't have wanted to sign the papers, Mr. Valentine. Yes, I might as well admit. It always seemed to me there was... Oh, maybe some method in her madness. She was mean. That's what she was mean in spite of her. She threw rocks at the kids. Only when they called her names. Go on with your cleaning, Olga. She would have got around to you sooner or later, Mr. Oric. Mr. Valentine didn't come here to listen to gossip and superstition. Maybe I did, Oric. Olga, here's been more help than you have, Mr. Oric. I can see how you spent your time waiting for me. Your ear's getting bigger and bigger. It's quite a story, isn't it? But I had my reasons for asking you. Yeah, well, let's hear them fast, because me, I'm gonna ask what the police have to say. That's where I've been. Whether it's smoke or it's fire is scarcely the appropriate expression of... What did the cops tell you, Mr. Oric? They knew she was a witch. I'm sorry, but if you don't like it, I prefer a privacy case. There, there. The police said nothing. They're investigating. Uh-huh. And do you think they should investigate? Well, Miss Abbey got so she almost couldn't keep her mouth closed. Every secret she'd ever heard. Every little thing the town was unwilling to face. Of course, from my standpoint, it made a good news source for the paper, her shouting... Naturally, she never attacked you, did she, Mr. Oric? What? Oh, nothing. Just that everyone we talked to seems to be an exception. Oh. Well, it wasn't only the people she defended, or the ones she began to pry about, spy upon. And it wasn't just the ignorant reaction, like Olga there, like the unkind children who told stories. No, even the nicer people began to lose patience. I was present one night at the school board meeting, when we'd found it necessary to explain to Miss Abbey that her services as teacher of our little music appreciation class were no longer desired. It was really quite... Oh, Sakes, you explain it to her, can't you, Doc? No. No, leave me out of it, Fritz. My lands, I don't see why you want to discharge me. I certainly don't drink like the chemistry teacher does every night, or give poker parties like that man. No, no, no, Miss Abbey. Never mind. Is it because I can't stop talking? Is that it? For twenty years, I've never said a word. I've never raised my voice. But the things I've seen, and the things I know inside me about people, yes, yes, every one of you. Whether I'm a witch or not, you'll never know. But I'll get you. Yes, I will. And you'll see whether I can be got rid of. Now, that's pointed to... I'll get you, Dr. Ransom, and you, Fred Stearns, and you, Widow Lawrence, and even you, Cy Oryk, with your sweet little newspapers. All of you who have paid of me, everyone! And then last night, this poor little mixed-up lady who hated the town as much as it hated her, she dies by accident. There's her picture. Everyone hesitates to print the story, Mr. Valentine, but a witch could die in a fire. Hmm. Come on, Brooke, see, let's go. George, here's another place. Sure. Charred at the base of the wall, just like the other one. A woman could get trapped in a place like this very easily. Not if these burn spots tell the story. Besides, what was she doing out here at the mill? Hey, look, there's another one, see? Oh, by the door foundation. It's blacker than the rest, isn't it? It's worse than the rest. You know what that means, don't you? Well, most accidental fires only start in one place. Brooke, see, it wasn't an accident. I'd be willing to bet on that. Miss Abby was hated and feared by the whole town. And last night, she was in here and somebody set fire to her. Last night, somebody murdered her. Oh, hello, Mr. Valentine. I'm Judd Lee, the Sheriff's Office. Oh, I didn't know you were out here. Yes, Cy Oryk got us nosing around. I didn't notice those burn spots, but... I dug this out of the floor. It's a bullet. Fire from the 38 revolver, I'd say. I dug it out of the floor right here. About the same place where what was left of the witch was found. So maybe somebody shot her and then set fire to the building to destroy the evidence. Enough people around here hated Miss Abby, I guess. And a wicked little lady who dug into their secrets then shouted what she knew, even about the nice people. Like Oryk and Stearns and Ransom and... Mr. Dundley, I kept hearing about the name Widow Lawrence. And so? In what connection? Well, never mind. Who is she? The exact opposite of Miss Abby, I'd say. Keeps to herself pretty much, straight-lays. Never talk about other people. Richest woman in town, too, I suppose. Always was loudest to say Miss Abby should be put away. That enough? Enough to make me want to see the Widow Lawrence right now. How about that? She doesn't answer, George, but her door's partly open. Well, a small town hospitality. Mrs. Lawrence. Mrs. Lawrence. Step down for a minute, I guess. Yeah. George, why do so many people speak of Miss Abby as a witch even after she let herself die? I mean, if you're going to talk about the supernatural, witches aren't supposed to. Hey, George. Yeah. Um, Mrs. Lawrence. Are you home, Mrs. Lawrence? In here, I think, George. Look out! Get out of my way! My land is no place a woman can... Don't touch me! Don't touch me! I'll get you, I'll get everyone of you! George, did you see? That wasn't the Widow Lawrence. The Witch, George. Miss Abby, it was she, the witch! We'll return to tonight's adventure for Valentine in just a moment. Maybe sometime this month or next you'll find yourself motoring through scenic mountain country. It may be pleasant, even cool for you, but don't forget that kind of driving is tough on your car's engine. Those long winding miles of steep grades mean sizzling engine temperatures, a serious threat to upper cylinder walls. Ordinary oils run away from heat like that, but not RPM motor oil. And car owners who live in the mountains will tell you more people prefer RPM than any other brand. In fact, this is the motor oil that's first choice where driving's toughest. For RPM is compounded to cling to hot metal, give you the finest engine insurance you can buy. Tomorrow, start using RPM motor oil in your car. Ask for it at independent chevron gas stations and at standard stations where they say, and mean, we take better care of your car. Now back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. The witch of Milhollow, Miss Abby, who for 20 years was only a shy, retiring piano teacher, and who then suddenly became a vindictive, spiteful woman, bore a witch. Which is it? Yes, just what is Miss Abby? Because if your name is George Valentine, you came to Milhollow on the report that the witch had been burned. Yet you've just seen her, heard her scream as she ran to get away from you to run outside in the dark. She went this way. Listen. No, she didn't. Go click around here. I can't see anything now, do you? So dark, so many trees. But she couldn't just fly away on her broomstick. Well, it looks like she did, ain't you? Oh, stop it. She's a lie. That was she in the flesh. Of course it was, Brooks. And don't worry, we'll find her, too. Come on back to the house. But George... Hey, see what I mean? She'd been rifling the place, going through the desk, frantic. Stuff spilled all over. But this is the widow Lawrence's house. Yeah, only what was the witch looking for here? More important, George. Where is the widow Lawrence? Well, Doctor, you reexamine the body? It's the widow Lawrence, all right. It was her body at the mill, not Miss Abbey's. Well, Mr. Oric, how do you want to murder the widow Lawrence, richest woman in town, exact opposite of the witch? The widow always kept her mosh. Oh, wait, Mr. Valentine, you understand it was a logical mistake to make. About the body, now, don't you? Of course it was. The witch was generally hated, but no one had anything against Mrs. Lawrence. I said wait, she was murdered. Definitely murdered. I found where that bullet had scraped a bone. Well, what do you think, Mr. Oric? I don't know. Isn't it possible that in the dark... Oh, a person doesn't get hit by a bullet by mistake. Oh, no, of course not. No, it wasn't that somebody thought it was Miss Abbey. But the children, they saw Miss Abbey last night. Hand it up. Don't you see what I'm driving at? We have exactly one suspect for the murder of the widow Lawrence. Yes, yes. The only person in town who might have done such an irrational thing as to... Hey, the witch! I saw her! What's that? The witch, outside, ran up into her house. Her own place? Well, come on! She is on the balcony. Third floor. Get away from her! Take it easy, Miss Abbey. Take it easy. Nobody's going to hurt you. Hello, stands. I saw her. It was just a second ago. She came up the dark street, stuck in there without being spotted. Yeah. She's been running suggestive and hiding. My fault should have had her locked up long ago. Yes, why would she hide, Mr. Valentine? All right, stop it. But look at her. She must be the one. She hated Mrs. Lawrence. The widow was trying to get her sent out of town. I said stop it. No, it's not true. You know it's not. Miss Abbey, I'm warning you. Take it easy, Dudley. Doctor, it's got to be she killed her. It's not. Oh, cut it out. Cut it out, both of you. Well, Mr. Valentine, I would... Hey, Brooksy, get over there. Tell Dudley to calm her down. Do anything but calm her down. Valentine, please, listen. All right, Doc. Let's have it fast. Your conscience has been bothering you all day. Now, what is it? The widow Lawrence, about people hating her. Come on, hurry it up. Hurry it up. Well, I never collected a bill from the widow. I did her favors, a loan to money. Now, take it easy. The richest woman in town, huh? That's what I mean. She never told anything. She was closed mouth, never gossiped. What did she have on you, Buster? What were you hiding? Nothing much. Just about some gambling when I was younger. But do you see, if people knew my... Never mind you said enough, friend. Okay, Dudley, let me try. She just stands there staring down. Sure, Miss Abby's out of her mind now, all right? Valentine, wait. Huh? Look, don't you see it? That's why she came back here. That's why she won't let anybody near. That's smoke. Smoke. Oh, hey, Sam. Call for the engine. I'll get her myself. George. She set fire to her own house. Oh, George, she'll jump. No, she won't, Angel. We gotta take a chance. We're the ones who are gonna get the witch. George, there's smoke coming from in back, too. Yeah, from both sides. You get out of here, Brooksy. Get out of this building. It's built like paper. Come on, come on, Brooksy. Step on it. I can do it myself. Well, all right. George, but her... Come on. Hey, Stearns, wait. Where are you? Stearns. Crazy idiot. I know what I'm doing in a place like this. You don't. Shut up. Where is she, Stearns? We're both crazy. Out there. I ought to be able to see her from the... What about Stearns? Hey, go me. Sam Hill. If she sees us, she will jump. So what? The baddy old banshee? Listen to her. Get easy, lady. I wouldn't come near for sour apples. Hey, Valentine, look at that. There is even the gun over there on her table. See it? Yeah. Come on. We're being suckers. I know what I'm talking about. Sure. You're the expert. I know. Fire chief. The guy who couldn't spot any indication of incendiarism when the mill burned. Not a trace of it, you said. Valentine. And I'm a rank amateur. And I found it. And now the same thing happens all over again. Fire started in several places. Hey, listen. There's the engine. And you say there's the same gun. Only how do you know? There's the same gun. Well, like this. Stearns, your eyes aren't that good. No, you're not going to rescue her. I am. Because you sure were busy today, Stearns. Planning that gun here, trying to find Miss Abby, trying to kill her like you killed Mrs. Lawrence. Valentine, no. No, listen. Miss Abby was out at the mill last night, but not as a murderous as a witness, my friend, a witness who saw you there. You were just guessing. Saw you and been scared to death ever since because she knew nobody believed her. She didn't have proof. And if you think I'm wrong, Mr. Stearns, just look at the way her eyes pop every time you move a musk. We're not staying here. That's the one thing you're going to do. Okay. Okay, Miss Abby. Did you hear all that? Now look, I'm a stranger, Miss Abby. I won't hurt you. Okay. Okay, lady. And we'll just let somebody else rescue the fire chief. Of course. It looks that the way it was. I saw them out there that night at the mill. They were having a fight. The widow and Mr. Stearns. Only he saw you too. Is that right, Miss Abby? Sure. Sure, Bruxy. He admitted it. Tell me something, Miss Abby. Let me ask you what you were doing out there. It was midnight at a deserted place. Was it the spying on them naturally? I see. They were up to no good, I could tell. Been meeting out there for years so nobody would be suspicious. What was she black marrying him for, George? Oh, I can tell you. I can tell you. Found someone over at her house. He'd made crooked real estate deals. That's what. And money off the fire department, too. Oh. You see, Fred Stearns came from a family of three boys. And every one of them has a piece of scandal that you could cut with a... Look, look, please. Never mind. Never mind that. Well, don't you want to hear about it? And about the other nice ones, too. Mr. Silas or a conducting... Miss Abby, I'm only interested in putting together a crime. Well... Yeah. Stearns fought with a widow and killed her and passion, he claims. Then he was terrified with a witness running loose, even if it was a witch. Excuse me, I'm sorry. He got his one feeble chance at you when you came back to your own house blind with fear. He knew he'd be caught if he just plain murdered you. So he set your house on fire and set up the alarm, knowing that as fire chief he'd have first crack at you. He could perform your rescue in the most un-gently manner. Well, of course. Now, let me tell you about Cy Oric and Dr. Redford. Miss Abby, really. They are just very important. Miss Abby, Miss Abby, look, please, can't you understand that everybody has little secrets? Oh, sure, the widow Lawrence, she capitalized on them in a small town, but... Twenty years, I kept quiet. Never said anything. Besides, every word I said is true. But look, you overstate it. It gets so that you hate the world as much as it hates you. Oh, I'm sorry. No, why should you be? I see things, that's all. Now, I mean, like you, Miss Brooks, I've noticed that between you and Mr. Vali... Now you're doing it again. Stop it. All right, all right. I don't really want to be the witch of Milhollow. What about you, too? Now, George, why should she stop? You go on, Miss Abby, just this once about us. What was it you were going to say? No! When you start out on your vacation motoring trip, you can read all kinds of books and literature about the places you'll visit, but for helpful up-to-date information, as you travel, depend on the men who know the locality, the men at standard stations and independent chevron gas stations. You may want to know whether there's a hardware store, a druggist, or what sightseeing trips you should take in some areas. At all these service stations, you'll get friendly, courteous answers fast. And here, for your convenience, you're always sure of finding restrooms that are clean and tidy. These restrooms are inspected often, recleaned and well supplied with soap and towels. So remember when you start on your vacation, for local information and convenience depend on independent chevron gas stations and standard stations, where they say and mean, we take better care of your car. Tonight's adventure 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 Greg as Bruxy. Let George Do It is written by David Victor and Jackson Gillis and directed by Don Clark. The green title was heard as Miss Abby, Ted Osburn as Orrick, Joe Duvall as Stearns, Larry Dobkin as Ransom, Gigi Pearson as Mrs. Stearns, and Bill Boucher as Dudley. 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 Don Lee Broadcasting System.