 Personal notice. Dangerous my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. 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 Bookworm Turns. Another adventure of George Valentine. My dear Mr. Valentine, I am the owner of a small bookshop. If you are familiar at all with rare editions, I am sure you will recognize my name. Hall Jacobs Humber. Well, I need your advice. You've heard of Bookworms, haven't you? Of Abraham Lincoln studying by candlelight. Of students rioting to keep libraries open so that men may learn. Well, for the past two nights my shop has been broken into, but I simply can't bring myself to call the police because nothing is stolen. Not a book, not a penny from the cash register. So you must be with me tonight by 10 o'clock. Because, Mr. Valentine, I believe I am being visited by the most ardent Bookworm of them all. A man who jimmies a window merely for the purpose of reading my books. Yes, reading, but reading what and why? I certainly have enough books, Mr. Humber. Don't you ever sell any? Well, these racks go out in front when the shop is open. Careful, careful. Six for a dollar, huh? We're trying to surprise anyone, it seems to me. Oh, no, he's never broken in necessarily. I've often stayed here myself till 10 or 11, Mr. Valentine. I've never seen the guy yourself, huh? Only why do I say guy? Why do you say he? Here, there's an aisle through here. Just follow me. I don't want to turn the lights on. I am just guessing, that's all. Uh-huh. Is that the window over there? No, no, no, no. The window on the other side of the stock room. Alley entrance, huh? Yes. Here, my office is in here. We can wait a while. You mean curl up in the book and wait all night? Oh, he'll be here. What in the... sounds more like a music store? Well, come on. Hello, Hall. I've been waiting for... Oh. Rosa. I was just listening to some phonograph. This is Miss Brooks, Mr. Valentine, Mrs. Coolidge, wife of my assistant Otto here in the shop. She does some bookkeeping, too. Oh, how do you do? Hello. Hall, Otto, how to go uptown to see somebody. We live right next door at a little apartment. Mrs. Coolidge doesn't have a phonograph in her apartment. We have records here, too. I understand. Well, she can join the party and help us. Mrs. Coolidge isn't the bookworm type, is she? What? Oh, no, no, no. She wouldn't be the one... I mean, she has her own keys. What is all this? Oh, I mean the way, aren't I, Mr. Humber? It's something I didn't mention. That's all Rosa. Are you married, Mr. Humber? I beg your pardon. Oh, no, no, no. I'm not, but... Well, excuse me now. I'll be leaving if you... Shh. Be quiet. Well, won't someone tell me... No, no, stop it, stop it. You hear that, Valentine? Yeah. It wasn't a car in the alley. I'm sure of that. It's from back someplace. It's a stock room. What are you listening for? Will you please...? Come on, come on, through here. Yeah. A little early, though, isn't it? For your bookworm to arrive. There. Hey, you see it? A light. Yeah. Flashlight. Get out of the way. Get him! Get him! Get home, Mr. Humber. I thought you saw... I saw the shade on the door glass blowing, that's all. But the door's been forced, all right. Still open. He's already gone. He must have heard us. Yeah, looks that way. He ran out and down the alley. You see this room, Mr. Valentine, every night. Get the light switch. Oh, yes. Put a look around. Nothing is touched again. Nothing's ever touched. Here, you see? A new set of first editions just in from Boston, and not even disturbed. Mr. Valentine. Right here, Mr. Humber. That's where I saw the flashlight. What? A visitor seems to be interested in old books, not new ones. Believe it or not, you're right. He apparently was reading. This book is still open. Well, let me see you. What is it? Oh, what some power of the gifted gears to see your cells as either to see us. Robert Burns? Burns? Why should I know why anybody should like Robert Burns? My background is a printer, Mr. Valentine, and I'm not the oxford book of English words. Okay, okay, Otto. I waited to see you because I thought you might have noticed something unusual. I am handyman, shelf-dust, and salesman in the shop. Should I have time to notice anything? But three nights running, somebody's been breaking in here. To read books. To read books! What is wrong with that? What would you like? People should only watch television? Oh, now look for me. I know I don't help you. My wife don't help you. It is late. I'm tired. Mr. Humber, my boss, don't you understand? He is what you call persecution with complexes. A what? Always and everything he sees a mystery. So somebody should break in to read. He should make something of this. Always make something of everything. Why should he worry? There is no damage, is there? No damage to his... All right, skip it, Otto. Skip it. Hmm? You say nobody's up to anything, huh? No damage to Mr. Humber? Why worry? What do you mean? But Burns is the word, all right. Burns? Can't you tell a fire engine when you hear one? And what do you think that smoke's coming from? Come on, let's get out of here. Only nothing's been damaged, George. Somebody broke into Humber's store during the night and didn't steal anything. And now there's a fire, but nothing is damaged. Credit luck in the fire department for that, Angel. Water, water, just look at the water. What's the matter, Humber? Rowing a few bindings? Oh, no, no. It isn't important. Only there's six for a dollar once. But Mr. Valentine, what is it? What's going on? Who is trying to do what to me? A bookworm who reads Burns certainly didn't start the fire or it would have burned up my entire stock. No, George, the fire didn't actually start here. Ah, but it was aimed here. If the engines hadn't been so close... A place next door almost burned to the ground. That was the reason for the fire here. An old apartment? Yes, yes. Well, those are not to live, but they don't own anything. There was no loss to anybody. Oh, no. It was here, all right, that me, that the fire was aimed. Only why? Mr. Humber, suppose you give me a chance to find out. Hey, Bruxy, there was a fire investigator here a minute ago. Let's find him. Oh, there he is. Over there, George. But Mr. Valentine... I said I'll do it my own way, thanks. Hey, you. Hey, you, Mac. Hey, I want to talk... Oh. Are you addressing me, young man? I thought you were somebody else. Maharaja of Ranapur, perhaps? J.P. Morgan's ghost. Any law against my being me? Sorry. And what are you staring at, ma'am Zell? If you ever see a shirt with no collar before, it's to display the hair on my chest, naturally. Grey, quite unusual, don't you think? Okay, France, skip it. No, George. You'll find the children's books on the next counter. What's that one you're looking at? What are you doing here? Georgie, porgy, pudding, and pie. What's it look like I'm doing? Taking a bath, naturally. Kiss the girls and say goodbye. Yeah, let me see that. Get your hands off me. It's a bookstore, isn't it? It's open for business. I'll say it is. It's wide open now. So, the book you're interested in is... Certain poems by Robert Byrne. Yes, a book of Byrne's poems. I just picked it up. I suppose you were from the T.S. Eliot Protective League. What is all this? What is going on? George, it's the same book. I came here to buy this book. Any objections? No. No, friend. Just questions. Like, why? People. Look here. Edinburgh edition. The four dials press, 1793. Yeah. Yeah, it's an old edition, all right? A very authentic edition. A very rare one. Oh, so I see. Priced at $750. I didn't notice that before. Oh, it is quite valuable, Mr. Valentine. It turned up in a bunch of second-hand things. Otto picked up at auction. That's what is so peculiar. Why the bookworm didn't steal it? Wait a minute. I think it's even more peculiar how this man happened to know it was here. Yeah. How about that, friend? My name is Jess. Henry Jess, not friend. Not even to my enemies. Jess? The critic? Well, I salute you, Mr. Humber. Fame isn't it wonderful? Yes, yes. Henry Jess, the man who sells his brain for a few dollars a month to sell a book magazine. Hey, hey, get back on the rails. Will you? I ask you a simple question. How I knew that book was here? A man told me. Not a bird, a man. What man? Here. An envelope. No, no, no, no. Not for you. For you, Mr. Humber. Oh. A man in my impecunious state will do anything for a commission. Even talk to the likes of you. I do buying once in a while for collectors so they can pretend that they know how to pick out the authentic items themselves. Yeah, but this guy's name, the man interested in this particular book. Why should I bother with his name? I don't know. Just a fat man, that's all. Don't ask me how he knew I'd find the addition here. I don't know that either. Emery Whitzel. What? His name, just a note. Authorization saying he'd be willing to pay a... Give me that. Oh, what's the matter, Mr. Jess? What's the matter with the name Emery Whitzel? Your client is me. Nothing. Nothing, I didn't realize that was his name, that's all. Just a man who phoned and asked me to make the purchase for him. Look, I'm getting sick and tired of all the speech. Well, it is a perfectly legal authorization, Mr. Valentine. And you tell Mr. Humber, you give me a case that's like a jellyfish. You can't grab onto it. The case of a bookworm, Mr. Valentine? Never mind. You're a little slippery yourself. Yes, but I've never heard of Emery Whitzel. Be quiet, will you. It's this guy I'm talking to. That's fine. Otto! Hey, Otto. Otto, what's the matter? What happened? George, there's blood on it. Look, he's been shot. No. No, let go. I... Whitzel. What? Emery... Emery Whitzel. Take it all back, Mr. Humber. It's a case now, all right. Otto's dead. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. Listen to the difference. Yes, now you can actually hear authentic scientific proof of the difference between new RPM motor oil and premium type motor oils as designated by the American Petroleum Institute. Auto engines are equipped with irradiated piston rings. And during operation, my new particles of radioactive metal wear off the rings. Geiger counters are thus able to detect the amount of wear actually taking place. Listen now as the Geiger counters click off the difference. First, the low wear rate of the new RPM. Now, the much faster wear rate of the conventional oil. Now, new RPM again. You have just heard authentic scientific proof that new RPM motor oil cuts in half the wear rate of critical engine parts, doubles the life of the average auto engines between major overhauls due to lubrication. Proved in the laboratory and checked out in severe road service, new RPM motor oil is sold with a money-back guarantee of satisfaction. Ask for it at standard stations and independent chevron gas stations where they say and mean, we take better care of your car. Now, back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. Oh, at some power, the gifty geist to see ourselves as it will see us. Yes, if your name is George Valentine, that's how your case started, just a book of poems by Robert Burns. A valuable early edition from the four dials press in Edinburgh. A book that someone broke into Mr. Humber's shop just to read. A book that an agent wanted to buy for a collector named Emery Whitzel. And who is Emery Whitzel? Well, Lieutenant Johnson of Homicide has an opinion on that, because now it seems the little book may have been the cause of murder. And those were his dying words. One thing, Whitzel. Emery Whitzel, he tried to tell you. That's right, Johnson. I wonder what had apparently been shot just a couple of minutes before, out in the street. And then came staggering in for help or to tell us. To tell you who did it, that Whitzel did it. The reputation? Yeah. Only who is Whitzel? Well, now you're asking something else. Well, we'll find him. Don't worry. Oh, don't be too sure. It's like finding the bookworm. We disappeared the minute we got close. You ask me, this guy, Humber, knows a lot more than he... Uh-huh. He's the one hired me. It's as much Greek to him as it is to us. Hey, Johnson, check up on that file with you how it started. What? How can you connect a file? I don't know. Just do it, would you? We've only scratched the surface of this thing so far. But we'll never get deeper unless we retrace what we already got. I don't see that the bookworm disappeared. No, he was in the shop last night, but he got away. Correction, Angel. He was scared away before we ever got a chance to see him. Isn't that what really happened? You mean all that phonographed noise in Rosa? Uh-huh. I wonder how she's feeling. Now that she's a widow. Please, leave me alone. I don't know anything. I'm sorry, Mrs. Coolidge, but you have to help us. I'm confused. Why were you in Mr. Humber's office last night in the first place? It wasn't just to listen to records, was it? Oh, I know what you're thinking, but it's not true. Yes, I like Mr. Humber. In some ways, he's been closer than Otto ever was. But you can't make anything out of it. Otto was my husband. But he's dead now. It's all over. So what's everybody hiding? Nothing. Just give me time. Let me think a little while. I'll give you two seconds to tell us who was in the stock room last night. What? When we heard him, you talked loud on purpose. You gave him a warning, a chance to get away. No, I didn't. Who was it, your husband? No. Is that what you're so upset about? Wondering whether or not you should be loyal to a dead husband? No, it wasn't Otto. I don't know who it was breaking into the store going through the old edition. You claimed your husband was uptown at the time, I remember. Well, it's true. He was. I don't believe it. He was. I'm not lying. He was at the Bedford Hotel, room 217. Wow. Well, now we're getting someplace. The Bedford Hotel, huh? Seeing whom? A man named Whitzel, maybe? No. I don't know any more than that. Okay, laddie. Maybe for now, that's enough. It's the middle of the afternoon, friend. Come on, open the door. You got the wrong room. 217 Bedford Hotel. Come on, open up. So you can read. I'm impressed. Yes, and in about one minute, I'll spell out the letters on a badge for you. Come on, come on. Dick Tracy badge? Don't get back in there. All right. Don't need to show off your vitamin. Looks like we hit pay dirt fast, eh, Valentine? Yeah, I see what you mean, Johnson. Big fat guy. Answers that book agent's description, all right? Hey, what is this? What's this all about? You tell us, Mr. Whitzel. Wrong number. Now, look, wise guy, we're trying to... Name is McGurk, Horace McGurk. And don't try to... Novelties is my line. A surprise for every party. Little Egypt. Watch your shimmy and shake. Exploding cigars. And if you want to shake hands instead... What? Smell the carnation on my coat. Only look out for it. Cut it out, cut it out. Salesman, huh? Sure. Denification, eh? See? Huh? Go on, I won't bite you. Horace J. McGurk. A sign, Novelties, New York, New York. So admit your mistake, boy. That's probably Mabel. I'll ask if she's got a couple of dumb friends for you. Hey, get away from that. Hello? Oh, yeah, yeah. Yeah, this is me. Go ahead. No, it's Mabel. What? A coincidence. Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thanks. My friend Mabel's a sergeant. I told him to phone here. Sergeant? I guess I wouldn't have enjoyed the day. He got anything. And he did. Well, let's have it, Johnson. Record on Emory Whitzel. Oh, sure, sure, there's a record. There's such a guy all right, or there was 10 years ago. Yeah. In the phony book business. In New York. Small world? That's my town. What else, Johnson? What do you mean phony book business? I mean like in forgeries, fakes for genuine. Like maybe that book back there in the shop, the Robert Burns? Who knows. But now, as for you, my friend. New York is such an intimate place. I think you're gonna have to take yourself down and relax. Because 10 years ago, you would have been about the right age to... Hold it, Johnson. To start fires, maybe? Huh? Yeah. You were in the lighter fluid business, too, McGirk, huh? One, two, three, four, five, six cans. It's perfume. It's a gag, you dopes and novelties. I showed you my identification. Pume? Let me see what it smells like. Get away from that coat, McGirk. Excuse me, Johnson. Don't be hot foot to your friends so long. Holy smoke. Those shots came through the transom. Come on. Somebody's been in the next room all the time. Officer, can you hear me? Got a way down the hall. Fire escape doors open. McGirk's dead, all right. A witzel of whoever he is. Yes, I'll cover the other end. Just get that street closed off fast. No, no, how should I know who it was? Come on, Valentine. Why? There'll be five blocks behind Skippet. Besides, maybe the answers right here. It's gonna McGirks. He fired twice, but there's another shell missing. That could be the one that killed Otto. Looks like about the same caliber. What in the... Never mind. Just grab it for a lab check. Because there was lighter fluid in these cans, Johnson. Smell them. And an empty whiskey bottle on him. Sure, that's what he carried it in. It's empty, too. Okay, so your hunch was right. This guy started the fire, but it doesn't... Let's get back to the place where the fire was. I got an idea. Well, this is what's left of their apartment. Otto and roses. The fire really erected, didn't it? Yeah, so far the only thing to explain anything is a copy of Robert Burns. Two murders for 750 bucks. One at a time, Johnson. McGirk did the first one, right? Sure, sure. It looks like the bullet will check, all right. So somebody else did the second one? Brilliant. McGirk, Whitzel, or whoever he was, didn't kill himself. So it's 375 bucks for each murderer. Yeah, wait a minute. What's this? I don't know. Piece of an old lathe, maybe. Hey, Bruxy. Yeah, I'm George. Any luck with Mrs. Coolichette? Oh, she won't say anything until she's talked with Mr. Humber. Uh-huh. Never mind. You ever see a steel arm like this on a lathe? George, what on earth is that? Or here, heavy wooden screw, or what's left of it. Hey. Printing press. Now you're getting it. Old-fashioned small printing press. And Otto was a printer, wasn't he? Well, he had been in the past, I remember. Johnson, suppose Mrs. Coolich knew her husband was up to something that she didn't like. But the phony book business. And that means Humber and that other guy Jess are tied right up with it. Take it easy. There was a bookworm, wasn't there? That person wouldn't have been tied up with Otto. Otherwise, why prowl around? George, you mean Otto was printing books? Oh, not money. It takes a long time. But sure, remember? Humber even told us Otto himself had picked up the copy of Burns at auction. Books, smokes, a lousy $700. Wait a minute. Let's be quiet, will you? Just a car, wasn't it? Yeah. Hey, hey. Somebody get out and went in the shop there. Come on. So the bookworm is a sucker, huh? Coming back for the book. Up in McGurk's room, I said the book was still in the shop. Well, that person in the next room, the one who killed him, also could have hurt us. Check it. Yeah, but coming back to the place. Shh, wait a minute. Hold it. Wait a minute. I want to check that truck. Let's see the registration card. Well, it's McGurk's car. George, look in the back. Oh, no, no. Not another body. It's a box seven or eight foot long, just about the right size for a body. You've figured yet what might be really valuable in this deal worth committing murder for. George, what are you talking about? Worth trying to get away from Otto and then having to kill him. Worth burning the apartment so people wouldn't know about the press. Here, here, give me a hand. Let's see what's inside this box. Type. Yeah. Loose type. That's right, old style print. Here, look at the funny capital, see? Sure, Johnson, it's type. Maybe one book is only worth $750. But think what a few hundred supposedly authentic books scattered in markets all over the world would be worth. Holy mattress. Big enough for you now, isn't it? George. Oh, here, quick this way. Coming back again out of the store. Hold it, hold it. Must be able to see it, isn't it? You got comedy, friend. Careful with that gun. Stay here. Kind of a dumb stunt, wasn't it? Coming back to get that one book so there'd be no record of what Otto's type look like? How are you so far in over your head anyway that? That's so. Gonna talk, huh? It's all right. I don't know who you are for sure. Otto tried to gasp out the name Emery Whitzel. But that didn't do us much good. Whoever it is uses a different name now. But then I thought of a poem which says, to see ourselves as uniseous. Move back, I said. It suddenly occurred to me, Otto wasn't trying to say who his killer was. He was just trying to talk to one of the two people there with me. I said... I'm moving now, just take it easy. Back from the car. You mean under the car, because there's a cop to the right of Mr. Jess who's about one second... Oh, excuse me. I guess it was to the left. Yeah, Angel, it was a big time operation, all right? With a double cross for good measure. You see, Jess and McGurk had found out about that antique type that Otto had made. There's a hobby, maybe. I don't know whether Otto intended to use it crookedly or not. Perhaps he slipped in the copy of the Robert Burns to see how successful he was. Yeah, but George, which one was the bookworm? Jess, of course. You don't think a guy like McGurk could have told a book from a racetrack sheet, do you? No, but why did Jess want to buy the book then? Because he was the brain, Angel. The other guy was the arm. But the arm double crossed him. You see, Jess thought he was going to run it real clever. But McGurk found he couldn't buy Otto, so he shot him and stole the type and set fire to the place. Jess didn't even know about all that until he opened that letter right in front of him. To find that his partner had signed the name Witzel to it. He did it so Jess, who was really Witzel, wouldn't have to go into hiding again while McGurk walked off with a loop. Oh, nice people. So Jess turned into an arm himself and killed McGurk. I thought it was Mr. Humber and Mrs. Coolidge. To see ourselves as either see it had wood from many a blunder frees. And foolish notion. Foolish notion. To keep one's eyes on the emotions instead of the facts. Sometimes you can be the most egotistical. Rosa Coolidge loves that guy, Humber. But she was loyal to her husband. The most insufferable. Of course he doesn't make sense. Errogant. Conceded. But women and love seldom do. Why you... Don't kill me, Angel. You wanted it explained, didn't you? Hmm. But I know, Clue, you don't. The name of that poem of Robert Burns you're so glib about. What's that? It's called... To a louse. Good night, George. Listen to the difference. In a few seconds you will hear Geiger counters measuring automobile engine wear. The engines are equipped with irradiated piston rings which make it possible for the Geiger counters to detect where as it occurs. You will hear authentic scientific proof that new RPM motor oil cuts in half the wear rate of critical engine parts. Doubles the life of the average auto engine between major overhauls due to lubrication. First let's listen to the Geiger counter slowly click off the low wear rate of new RPM. Now the much faster wear rate of a premium type oil is designated by the American Petroleum Institute. Now new RPM again. You have just heard Geiger counters clicking off the scientific proof that new RPM motor oil is years ahead. Yes, years ahead. New RPM doubles engine life between major overhauls due to lubrication. Try it. Sold with a money-back guarantee of satisfaction at independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations where they say and mean we take better care of your car. Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard Oil Company of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the west. Robert Daley is starred as George with Virginia Gregg as Brooksy. Let George do it is written by David Victor in Jackson Gillis and directed by Don Clark. Ken Christie was heard as Lieutenant Johnson, Bob Griffin as Humber, Bill Conrad as Jess, Jack Krushen as McGurk and Lillian Bayef as Rosa. The music is composed and presented by Eddie Dunstetter. Your announcer, John Heaston. Listen again next week, same time, same station too. Let George do it. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.