 Yes, it's another case for that most famous of all man-hutters, the detective whose ability at solving crime is unequaled in the history of detective fiction. Nick Carter, master detective. Tonight's curious adventure is... The Echo of Death. They're just like that. This has got to look right. Anything you say, I'll forget everything I know. Only don't... Yes! This is Nick Carter speaking. Case? What kind of case? It is apparent. Well, that's hardly my line. Oh, I see. Yes? Yes? Yes, I understand. All right, expect us late this afternoon. You got that on the extension, Patsy? I should say so. Echo Valley Lodge, private amphibian plane waiting for you at the airport. Come at once, never mind the fee. Who is this Howard Manstead who tosses money around like confetti? A well-known millionaire sportsman, Patsy. But wouldn't it be more to the point to ask about the man who's disappeared? Oh, you mean James Thirlow, the columnist. Why, he's... Hey, who is he, anyway? That's what you get for not reading the financial pages of the paper, Patsy. Well, come along. We've got to find a taxi and get to the airport. Well, aren't we going to take anything with us? Oh, yes, of course. I was forgetting. I thought you were. I'll need my new dress. Well, once, Cubby, call him and tell him to meet us at the airport. He knows Thirlow. They write for the same paper. Oh, and one other thing, Patsy. Bring along Volume 3 of the Encyclopedia, E to H. Cubby Wilson and Volume 3 of an Encyclopedia. That's just what a girl needs for a visit to a millionaire's hunting lodge. So, seldom visited because of its somewhat inaccessible location, Echo Valley is a natural freak of singular interest. I have friends you could say the same thing about, but the Encyclopedia doesn't mention them. Quiet, Cubby. Let Patsy finish reading. Echo Valley is of great interest to scientists. Sounds occurring in certain areas of Echo Valley may be repeated as many as 13 times, echoing from clip to clip in gradually diminishing volume. Why do Encyclopedias always use so many words to say so little? That's what I wonder about newspaper reporters sometimes, too. So we'll change the subject. What else does it say? That's all. Well, that's no help. Thurlow certainly wasn't carried off by an echo. He's probably just lost in the woods. In any case, I don't see why Manstead insisted on you coming out to look for him, Nick. You're no Indian guide. Patsy, if Thurlow isn't found alive, it may cost the public millions. Millions? Whoosh, just a columnist, isn't he? Just a columnist? He's the smartest financial reporter in New York. If Thurlow's more than just a reporter, Patsy, in the financial column he writes, he sometimes tips the authorities off to big stock swindles and other kinds of financial scalduggery. Right. It was Thurlow who broke open the Nemo Bank scandal three years ago and set the whole board of directors to prison. And for some time, Patsy, Thurlow has been hinting in his column that he was on a verge of revealing some kind of tie-up between certain politicians and one or two big operators. That would rob the public of millions. Oh, then if anything happened to him now, before he's had a chance to tell anybody what he knew, the scheme would go through his case. Right. That's why he went to Echo Valley Lodge. Manstead, an old friend of his, invited him out so he could work in peace for a few weeks. Scubby, huh? Is it true that Thurlow was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when he left? Oh, he was walking around in circles talking to himself, Nick. He had almost all the dope he wanted, but he still hadn't got the name of the guy behind the whole scheme. He took along a whole bunch of records of stock transactions. He said they might give him the clue he needed. And... Hey, look ahead of us. Echo Valley. It is, isn't it, Nick? No doubt of it, Patsy. But look, that isn't any Echo Flying tortoise. A plane? Nick, it's a plane flying up out of Echo Valley. Yes. Yes, it's a private amphibian. I thought this plane of Manstead's was the only one in these parts. Now, the pilot's seen us. Huh. He's turning on a lot of flight. You suppose he wants to avoid us? I'll bet he doesn't want us to see his markings. He is trying to avoid us. Oh, pilot. Swing over so we can get a look at that plane down there. Right, Mr. Scottard. He knows we're trying to get closer to him. Look at him back to avoid us. He's turned back. He's heading away from us now. Oh, pilot, overtake that plane if you can. Yes, Mr. Scottard. Say, isn't that the Manstead hunting lodge down there, right on the edge of the lake? Yes, Cubby, it is. But we're not going to land until we get some idea what that plane's up to. He's diving straight down now. He's going to try to get away underneath us. Oh, he'll never make it. Those private planes aren't filled. His wing is breaking off. He couldn't take the strain. He's heading straight for the ground if he hasn't got a parachute. Nobody has. Look, he's helping. There, the chute's helping. And there goes his plane into the tree. That was a narrow escape. He didn't have more than 500 feet of altitude. Come down on the top of that tall pine. He's caught there. See, his parachute won't come loose. Yes. Well, we'll have to land and rescue him. Besides, I want to know why he was so anxious to avoid having his plane identified. Oh, pilot. Yes, Mr. Carter? Land in the lake and taxi up as close as possible to the place that fellow came down. Okay. Watch out for that branch. There's a snap back in your face there. Aren't we almost there? Yes, there's the clear ringer. That's the head. Only a few more steps. Oh, and they say exercise is good for you. Oh, there. There's his parachute. I think I can see him hanging among the branches. He's hurt, or he'd call to us. Come on. His shroud lines are caught among the branches. I can see that much. Well, he's just dangling there. Yeah. Hey, you up there? Can you hear us? You all right? He doesn't answer. Look, I'll climb up and see if I can... No. Wait. What is it, Nick? Look at those shroud lines. They're wrapped around his neck. Yeah. Look at the way his head is twisted to one side. Yes. His neck's broken. He's dead. What? Oh, when he landed in the tree, he got tangled in the lines and... I wonder... Nick, what do you mean? Look down at your feet, Scubby. What? A cigarette butt. What? Somebody must have been here before us. Maybe. But its position makes me think the cigarette was smoked by him up there. But that's impossible, Nick. It's been just about an hour, Scubby, and he's passed. He knew we'd come after him. So if he was hurt and couldn't get out of his shoot harness, what would be more natural than for him to smoke a cigarette and wait to be rescued? But he... He's dead? Because somebody reached him before we did. And murdered him. And so that's the story, Mr. Carter. As much as we know, anyway, Thurlow just wandered away yesterday morning and never returned. Hmm, I see, Mr. Manson. And you don't think this mysterious airplane we met just before we reached here had any connection with Thurlow's vanishing? Well, I don't see how it could. But then, as I said, I haven't the slightest idea where the plane could have come from or who was flying it. Now, let's go over the facts again, if you don't mind. Of course not. Thurlow arrived here a week ago? Yes, with his wife. I had them flown in in my plane. They had the lodge to themselves with my permanent housekeeper to look after them. And you arrived yesterday? In the middle of the afternoon. But Thurlow wasn't here when you arrived? No, he'd already gone out. He was taking his revolver along and would take pot shots at the trees and rocks. So you never actually saw him? That's right. The woodsman I employed to look after the property asked me to come and examine some trees he wanted to cut down. About sundown, I got back to the lodge and Thurlow still hadn't returned. Mrs. Thurlow was becoming worried. I ordered the floodlights we used for landing the plane at night, but he didn't show up. And then in the morning, you called me. Well, first I phoned the nearest forest ranger station. And after that, Mrs. Thurlow was so agitated that I promised I'd send for you. Where is Mrs. Thurlow? I'd like to ask her a few questions. Well, she's sleeping now. She was up all night and this morning the housekeeper gave her a sleeping tablet. Shall we wake her? No, no, no, not just now. There's still an hour of daylight left. I'd like to take a look around outside. Perhaps I'll... I'll open it. Mr. Menstead. Johnny. What is it? His hat. We found it. Thurlow's hat? Where? Near the waterfall. Well, that's not far. It's only a mile from here. It's still light. Do you want to come with us to the waterfall? Yes, I think I do. There, there. There's the hat, Mr. Menstead. In that bush. But what in the world could Thurlow have been doing in here? This isn't a trail to the waterfall. It isn't a trail at all, as far as I'm concerned. It's a jungle. It used to be a trail to an old one-room cabin, but there's no reason Thurlow would go there. Well, maybe if we yell, he'll hear us. He might be in there with a bustin ankle or something. Go ahead and try, Scabby. Thurlow! Good gosh, would you listen to that? Well, that's one reason this is called Echo Valley. The cliffs around the waterfall, down the trail, make a perfect sounding board. Well, if he didn't hear that, he must be dead. If there's a cabin in there, we'd better take a look at it. Right. I don't see what in the world Thurlow could have come this way for, but maybe he did. Let's find out. There it is. Where, Menstead? Oh, there, between those two trees. See it? Oh, yes. It's only another 40 yards. Well, come on, then. Oh, Scabby, wait. Well, sure, Nick, what is it? That bare patch of ground there. Those footprints. Thurlow's footprints? You sure, Scabby? Sure. I've seen those pointed shoes of his too often not to recognize the footprints anyplace. Come on, Nick. Um, yes, yes. I'm coming. Thurlow's a tall man, isn't he, Scabby? He's a tall man like I'm Henry Ford. He's about five feet five. Why? I thought so. Well, never mind. There's the cabin. Gosh, it doesn't look as if it had been opened in years. Well, it hasn't, but I know of. But there are Thurlow's footprints going right up to the door. And somebody's opened the door recently. Look at these broken spiderwebs around the door jam. And it won't open now. Well, here, let me try. It ought to open without any trouble. Yeah, but it doesn't budge. That's strange. Let's take a look through the window. The window's boarded over. The boards haven't been touched. I nailed the window up myself three years ago. Nobody came here since. And someone has come here. Thurlow. And he must be inside now. But the window hasn't been touched. And the door is barred on the inside. It looks bad. We'd better break the door down. Suppose we have all Johnny use his axe on it. That'll be quicker. Of course. Johnny, smash the door open for us. Come back, please. That door was locked to stay locked. Standing to go. There. That doesn't. It's open. I'd like to go in first. Of course. It's dark inside. Here, take my flashlight. Thanks. There he is. Thurlow. He's dead. He came here, bolted himself in, and shot himself with his own revolver. Yes, he's dead, all right. And it does look like suicide. Doesn't it? No, no, Mrs. Thurlow. I couldn't have killed himself, Mr. Carter. I couldn't have. I'm sorry, Mrs. Thurlow. I wouldn't intrude on your grief if it wasn't necessary. Now, first of all, what kind of mood was your husband in yesterday morning just before he disappeared? He was very agitated. Agitated? Well, do you know any reason why he should have been? I think he just found a clue to the identity of the man he was seeking. The one behind this plot to upset the stock market. Did he say who it was? No. No, he just said he'd stumbled on a clue. And he'd be so shocked he could hardly believe the evidence. That was why he went out into the woods. He wanted to be alone, to think the matter is through. Perhaps his notes will tell us what he found. You know, I thought of that, Nick. After Mrs. Thurlow woke up and I talked to her while you and Scobby were out with Mr. Manstead, we tried to read his notes. But they're in some kind of a shorthand that nobody can read but himself. I can make out a few words here and there, but that's not enough to help. Well, we'll have another try at it later. Please go on, Mrs. Thurlow. Well, that's almost all, Mr. Carter. Jim went out about 10 in the morning. I stayed here in my room reading. About half an hour later, I thought I heard a shot. All of a sudden, I was terribly frightened. Frightened? Of what? I don't know. It was just a feeling. Then I heard the far-off echo of somebody hammering. It sounded like somebody hammering down the lid of a coffin. And I'm positive it meant that Jim was dead. It was probably someone chopping down a tree, she heard, Nick. Anyway, she went back to her reading and forgot about it. Then around one, Manstead frowns in the village. That's a little town about 10 miles from the hills. But Donnie had to come for him in a station wagon. Manstead phoned. What, didn't he fly in by plane yesterday? Seems not. The plane was in New York getting a new propeller, so he took the night train. Is that so? Anyway, Donnie went to meet him. He got here about 2.30. The rest of the story is just the way he told it to us. Nick Thurlow must have killed himself. It just isn't any other answer. I wonder, Patsy. I wonder. Hello? Yes, speaking. Did you get the dope I wanted? He was? And the plane? Then check every airfield within 50 miles of the city. Yes, I know what's a big order, but somebody's playing this game for big stakes. No, that's all. Call me back when you've learned something. Oh, uh, hello, Carter. I didn't know anybody was here in the library. I took the liberty of phoning New York. I was trying to check on that mysterious plane that we saw crash yesterday afternoon. I see. Did you learn anything? Nothing yet. You know, I have a theory about that plane, Carter. I'd be interested to hear it, Mr. Manstead. Well, we're only 100 miles from the border, and in the past, planes engaged in smuggling aliens into this country have landed in this region. Now, I'm willing to wager this chap, who was so anxious to avoid being seen, was engaged in doing something like that. Hmm. Certainly sounds plausible. Nick! Oh, Nick! Oh, yes, Cubby. Oh, there you are. Oh, top of the morning to you, Mr. Manstead. Good morning. Say, I was looking for the two of you. Forest Ranger Thompson and two of his men are down at the landing waiting in your launch, Mr. Manstead. They want to get started down the lake to bring in the body of that flyer who... who was so unlucky when he bailed out of this plane yesterday. Of course. You're coming with us, aren't you, Carter? Yes, indeed. I'm just as interested as you are to see if your theory turns out to be right. Oh, what about Patsy? Shall I go find her? No, no, Cubby. She's staying here in the lodge with Mrs. Thurlow. They're going to spend the morning going over Thurlow's notes, trying to decipher them. Well, let's get going. I want to get back in time to phone the story to my paper. I was afraid it's no use, Mrs. Thurlow. Please, just call me Patsy. It's just impossible to read these notes of Jim's, Patsy. They're not only in his own shorthand, but most of them are in code, too. Here's something that seems as if it might mean something. See, it says, I can H.B. it. H.B.? Hardly believe. I can hardly believe it. Yeah. Of course, that's what it means. And here's some more. It's clearer. Shall I tell Manstead what I know? The next line, better, not. Instead, must get back to New York. That's clear enough. But the next line, my life, M.B. in D. That doesn't mean anything to me. My life, M.B. in D. My life may be in danger. Oh! And then there's just one last sentence that he never finished. To think that the one man in the world... And that's all there is. Oh, oh, if it only finished. To think that the one man in the world... Who do you suppose he could have meant? I can't even make a guess. The one man. Mrs. Thurlow. Oh, Patsy. Mrs. Thurlow, we're going to go and take a look at that cabin now while all the others are away. I have a theory, and we're going to find some evidence to prove it. It has to be there. It just has to be. Hello, Nick, my friend. Hey, what's troubling you? You've been sitting out here on this rock for an hour ever since we got back. Looking mean enough to bite your grandmother. Scubby, that poor devil of a Navy at whose body we brought in was murdered. And Thurlow was murdered, and I can't prove it. But Nick, couldn't you be wrong? The aviator certainly looked like a natural accident. And Thurlow, if I ever saw a case look more like suicide, well, I don't know where it was. That's just it. The aviator, I can explain. Someone slipped through the woods, reached him before we did, climbed the tree he was caught in, and strangled him with the shroud lines and his parachute while pretending to help free him. But Thurlow, his own footprints leading into the cabin. The window boarded over and the door bolted on the inside. If somebody killed him, well, how did they get out? I don't know, Scubby. It isn't possible. And it was done. I'm going to break the... Hey, Scubby, what's that in your hand? All just a shiny new nail I picked up somewhere. Somebody must have been fixing something. A nail? And Mrs. Thurlow said she heard the echo of hammer blows the morning her husband died. Yeah, said they sounded like somebody hammering down the lid of a coffin. They sure have imagination. But that's just what she did here. Huh? She heard the echoes of somebody nailing down the lid of a coffin. But there must be a clue. There must be. But we've been all over the cabin inside and out a dozen times now, Patsy. If there was anything here, we'd have found it. Mrs. Thurlow, somehow your husband was murdered here. And his body left inside this cabin so it would look like suicide. I'm going to find out how the murderer got out, leaving the door and window bolted, or die. I'm afraid you're much more likely to die, Patsy. Mr. Manstead? Yes, Mr. Manstead. After we returned to the lodge and I learned the two of you had disappeared in this direction, I thought I'd better find out what you were up to. You. You killed my husband. Of course he did. Who else could your husband have meant by the one man in the world he'd never have believed guilty? But, but he was Jim's friend. That's what he wanted you to think. He pretended to be a friend so he could always keep checking what your husband learned. He invited you both here so he could commit murder if he decided it was necessary. A very interesting theory. But I'm afraid I can't give you a chance to tell it to anyone else. Johnny. Right here, Mr. Manstead. Come inside and close the door. What are you going to do to us? He thinks he's going to kill us. He hasn't got that gun in his hand for fun. Johnny, the old mineshaft is close by. Now if these two ladies out walking had the misfortune to stumble into it, it would be very tragic, wouldn't it? Luxious people fall down, old mineshaft. So they do. And I'm afraid another such accident is about to happen. You can't get away with it, Mr. Manstead. Nick Carter won't let you. Well, perhaps even clever, Mr. Carter may have to have an accident. Help me silence him, Johnny. Quickly! No, no! Quiet! Quiet, I say! Now, Johnny, knock them both on the head to keep them quiet. All right, Manstead. Let go of her. You, Carter! Nick, look how he's got a gun. Grab it, Manstead, or I... Johnny, kill him! Johnny, put down that ax or I'll shoot. Yes, sir. I'm afraid so. That's it. Either of you hurt? No, Nick. You came just in time. But how? How did I know Manstead was a murderer? I knew that from the time we found this cabin. But it took an echo to prove it. The echo, Mrs. Thurlow, that you said sounded like someone hammering. But I don't understand. Scuppy's bringing Ranger Thompson. As soon as they get here, I think I'll be able to clear up a lot of mysteries. So Manstead was behind the plot that Thurlow uncovered. He invited Thurlow here in order to find out what he knew. He discovered Thurlow had evidence which would tell him the truth. And therefore decided to eliminate Thurlow. But, Mr. Carter, Manstead didn't get here until after Thurlow was dead. He came by train. Well, Ranger Thompson's right, Nick. He appeared to come by train. Naturally, he flew in the night before, in a plane whose pilot was used to taking big fees for keeping his mouth shut. That was the plane that we saw crash. Something deleted from leaving in time to avoid us, and in the pilot's effort to keep away from us. Well, we all know what happened. But, Nick, why was the pilot murdered? That was Johnny's work. As soon as Thurlow saw the crash, he sent Johnny by a secret trail to the woods to make sure the pilot didn't live to talk. Otherwise, his murder scheme would have collapsed. Isn't that right, Johnny? So Manstead flew here the night before he murdered Thurlow. In the morning, when Thurlow left the house, he and Johnny waylaid him. Is that it, Nick? That's it, Betsy. They brought him to the cabin here. Manstead put on his victim's shoes and made a trail of footprints. Then they killed Thurlow, put his shoes back on him, and left him in the locked cabin. A clear case of suicide. But Manstead made a mistake there. His footprints were too far apart. They were the steps of a tall man. When Scubby said Thurlow was a short man, I began to suspect. Well, it certainly does sound plausible, Mr. Carter. But you've still got to convince me Manstead could get out of that cabin and leave the door barred from the inside. Make it good, Nick. Johnny knows the answer. You all remember that Mrs. Thurlow said she heard the echo of hammer blows. You mean she really did hear someone hear me? Exactly. This is a small cabin, with a roof lightly nailed in place. Now look up there. What's that flashing in the sun? Looks like nail heads. Somebody's hammered new nails into that roof all along this side. Nick, is that the clue I was looking for? That's the clue you were looking for. Scubby and I saw it yesterday, but we weren't smart enough to know what it meant. Here, I'll take Johnny's axe and push the blade in under the eaves and pry upward like that. The whole roof's lifting up. Well, blow me down. Manstead and Johnny pried up the flimsy roof before they killed Thurlow. Then leaving the door pod, they climbed out. And Johnny nailed the roof back into place. Right. So they were hammering the lid in the coffin, so to speak. Thurlow's coffin. And due to the curious echoing qualities of the rocks, the sound carried to the lodge. And Mrs. Thurlow heard it. I didn't think it meant anything until I noticed the nail scubby picked up someplace. The nail Johnny must have dropped. And then I remembered the hammering sound Mrs. Thurlow spoke of. And suddenly the whole thing was clear. Well, it sure wouldn't have been clear to me if you hadn't explained it, Mr. Carter. I certainly wouldn't ever have worked it out with just an echo for a clue. Oh, but that was an unusual echo. Remember how cleverly it answered? And when it comes to answers, scubby, Nick Carter is the man who gets them. This was another strange experience of Nick Carter called the Echo of Death, or Nick Carter and the Phantom Clue. The curious adventures of Nick Carter, are brought to you every Monday night at 9.30 Eastern wartime. We'll let Nick himself tell you about next week's story. What'll it be about, Nick? I call it Death Across the Tracks. It began with the murder of a detective. A railroad detective who lived in the station alongside the tracks. He was working on a case, but he had it only partly solved when he was murdered. And I picked it up from there. I'll say you did, Nick. You almost picked up a few bullets into the bargain the way the victim did. When you called it Death Across the Tracks, there were more ways than one. This sounds more and more intriguing. And how did it wind up, Nick? Well, we'll tell you that next week. But I can say this much. I had a stroke of luck. Nick always calls it luck when he uses foresight. Good night, folks. Yes, good night, folks. And good night, Patsy and Nick. In tonight's strange adventure, Nick Carter was impersonated by Lon Clark. Patsy was impersonated by Helen Choate. Original music was played by Lou White. Next week, at half-fast 9 o'clock Eastern wartime, listen to another curious adventure of Nick Carter entitled... Death Across the Tracks. For Nick Carter and the Mystery of the Midnight Train. This story is a copyrighted feature of Street and Smith Publications, Incorporated. And here's a special note. Beginning next week, Nick Carter will be heard over most of these same stations on Mondays at 9.30 p.m. Eastern wartime. The Cisco Kid will be presented on Tuesdays at 9.30 p.m. Eastern wartime. This is Mutual.