 No, Sam. No. With regards to our shortage of office supplies... Don't give it another thought, Aunt. This was going to be a short report. Short and sweet, Sam? Hardly, Angel. In fact, fairly. Well, Sam, if you had asked me, I could have told you. That girl was merely trying to stir up a tempest in her boyfriend's teapot. Again? It was perfectly observant to me, Sam, that she had sour grapes written all over her. Sour apples, Abby, but you're warm, and that's why I'm so fond of you. Oh, thank you, Sam. I'm glad I could be of help, though I must confess the apples are over my head. Well, don't feel bad about it. That's how Newton discovered the law of gravity. Stay where you are, and I'll be right down to dictate my report on the apple of Eve paper. Meeting detective fiction writer and creator of Sam Spade, the hard-boiled private eye, and William Spear, radio's outstanding producer, director of mystery and prime drama, join their talents to make your hair stand on end with the adventures of Sam Spade. Resented by the makers of wild root cream oil for the hair. Remember the Romeo of yesteryear, hair parted in the middle all plastered down? Man, what a difference today. Today all a guy has to do to impress a gal is use wild root cream oil hair tonic. Wild root cream oil grooms the hair neatly and naturally, relieves dryness and removes loose dandruff. If you're still using old-fashioned hair tonics or none at all, then for her sake, spruce up today with wild root cream oil hair tonic. In bottles or the handy new tube, it's again and again the choice of men who put good grooming first. And now with Howard Dove starring as Spade, wild root brings to the air the greatest private detective of them all, in the adventures of Sam Spade. Why are you so nervous? Oh, nothing. I'm just glad to see you, dear. Oh, I'm glad to see you. That's all. Come on out with it. What are you hiding behind your back? Well, it's a surprise, Sam. So you just run along into your office and I'll be right with you. Surprise, huh? Let me think. Father's Day? No, surely not. Oh, no, Father, no. It's just as regards our shortage of office supplies. I do hope you'll be able to mend your words. It's all that junk you got stuffed in between the pages of your notebook. Where? Oh, well, Sam, you see, improvisation is a child of necessity. So the stretch I supplies, I just cut up some old strips of waste paper in case we run out of a genuine. Well, well, very ingenious. Shall we commence? Yes. Not too many corrections, Sam. I'm afraid this eyebrow pencil might not last. Well, don't bear down on it. Where was I? No, please, Sam. I would have had to ask for him. Oh, this one goes to... Hey. Yes, Sam? The calendar. Where is it? Calendar? Which calendar, Sam? You know perfectly well which calendar. It's been hanging there on the wall for three years, the one from Harold's Club and Reno. Oh, that old calendar. It was out of date anyway, Sam. That calendar was timeless. It was not, Sam. It was Boulder. That's a lie. I met the girl who posed for it. In more modest circumstances, I hope. But, in fact... Not, Sam, don't. What did you do with that calendar? You must decide yourself, Sam. Let me see that notebook. Uh-huh. Old waste paper, indeed. An art treasure mutilated and for what? To serve your own base purposes. Just because you were too absent-minded, order a few office supplies. But I frequently alluded to our dwindling resources, Sam. But no, you were too proud. Take these and put them in a safe place. You can put it back together with scotch tape on your own time. Oh, we're not a scotch tape, Sam. We've got a first aid kit, haven't we? Well, you still... Use the adhesive. Date, June 19, 1949. I won't soon forget that. Two, Detective Lieutenant Dundee, homicide detail, San Francisco police, prom, Samuel Spade, license number 137-596. Subject the Apple of Eve, Caver. Dear Dundee. The start of it was yesterday when Eve Adams first walked into my office. She was angry and she was terribly, terribly hurt. In fact, she had a shiner, a swollen jaw, and somebody had bitten her on the arm. And furthermore, she had the audacity to suggest that there was something shady between I and Mr. Hagen when it is an item of public information that her and Gort Hagen was washed up practically before they started. And I might just add, in fact... Just a minute, Ms. Adams. You say this girl came to your apartment in a jealous rage and attacked you without provocation. None whatsoever. I never opened my trap to her, except a reminder that it would have been a blessing to the human race. If her old man had never met her old lady. And if she thought those three layers of pancake on her puss could fool a blind man at her true age and sing as what her mouth was, she should never open it for fear of what might come out. I see. In a girl's name? Down at that flea bag where she works, she's built this dream of love. And is she ever a nightmare? Dream of love. That's D-R-E-A-M-A. It says there, but I do not intend to take this episode lying down on my chin, Mrs. Spade. Why, if it had not been for the timely arrival of my concerty, that cheap mare would have brained me with my own gin bottle. I see. Landlady broke it up. And you say she threatened a return of the gun and blast you if you continued saying Mr. Hagen? That is a fact. And she is just cheap enough to try some low trick like that. Mm-hmm. And what do you want me to do, Ms. Adams? I want you to pay a formal call on that dame and tell her that upon the very next occasion of any violence or threat thereof out of her, I'm going to yell cop. In fact, Mr. State, I am placing my life and limbs in your hands. And if you are anything of what you're cracked up to be, you will have no difficulty in giving that creepy crow the bum's rush straight out of my life. Ah! Pardon me, Ms. Adams. My secretary seems to be calling me. Out of my way. Out of my way. Mrs. Spade, it's her. Keep her off. You should have hired the 4th Marine, dearie. No, no, ladies. Ladies, please. No, no, no, no. Break it up. You know I'll show you who to get tough with. You let go of these showers or I'll let you have it. No, no, ladies, please. Now, let's talk this over calmly and silently. Okay, you ask for it. Now, ladies. Please. Sam, your portage. Here. Where'd they go? Well, they chased each other down the hall. I thought you're going out. I did. What did she hit me with? Well, she took a sap out of her purse and left fly before I could prevent it. Yeah. But you were still on your feet when you told me to close the door. Fine, Frank. Help me up. Yes, Sam. Easy, easy. Oh, and I think of you lying in here unconscious all that time while I went out to lunch. What? If anything could happen to you, I'd never forgive myself. You call this nothing? Poor dear brave boy. Now, you just sit down and relax. Now, the ambulance would be here any minute. Ambulance? Oh, you know these things cost money? Oh, I'm sorry, Sam. I lost my head. When I saw you lying, they're all over heat. I couldn't help it. Forget it. What's that gadget? They're on the floor. Oh, it's lipstick. Mr. Drops out of her purse when she opened it for the sap. Huh. Apple of Eve. It's a ghost color, Sam. Apple of Eve. Any garage, Harry's speaking? Spade, this is Dream of Love. Keep your distance. Look, you left your lipstick, but don't bother to come after it. I'll mail it to you. What kind is it? Apple of Eve. Sorry, I've never used it. Good. Then I won't give you another thought. Oh, but you got to. She's dead. Eve Adams? Yeah. She jumped into a taxi in front of your building. I went straight after her. But I got caught in traffic where they're tearing up Market Street. That could be anywhere between the Embarcadero and Twin Peaks. Fine alibi. What comes next? Well, I'm at her apartment now, and she's dead. Sam, Sam! Hold on. Gaffey? There's your ambulance. Shall I send him away? What shall I do with him? Well, it's ten bucks now anyhow. I'll use it for a taxi. Hello, Miss Love. Yeah? Stay there and don't touch a thing. I'll be right over. Dreamer hadn't waited, if that was really where she'd called me from. Eve Adams was on the bedroom floor in front of a dressing table. There was broken glass all over the floor, the place reeked of perfume. The front of her negligee was splashed with red. I looked for the wound, but I didn't find any. Then I looked at her hands. All the nails on her left hand and two on the right were the same color as the stain on her clothing. Evidently, she'd been seated at the dressing table putting on nail polish when the murderer entered the room. The back of her head had been creased by the well-known blunt instruments, such as a heavy sap. I felt the bumps on my head and looked at the overturned nail polish bottle on the dressing table. It was called Apple of Eve. The makers of Wild Road Cream Oil are presenting the weekly Sunday adventure of Dashel Hammett's famous private detective, Sam Spade. If you want the well-groomed look that helps you get ahead socially and on the job, listen. Recently, thousands of people from coast to coast who bought Wild Road Cream Oil for the first time were asked, how does Wild Road Cream Oil compare with the hair tonic you previously used? The results were amazing. Better than four out of five who replied said they preferred Wild Road Cream Oil. Remember, non-alcoholic Wild Road Cream Oil contains lanolin. It grooms the hair naturally, relieves dryness, and removes loose, ugly dandruff. So if you want your hair to be more attractive than ever before, get the generous new 25-cent size of Wild Road Cream Oil, America's leading hair tonic, on sale at all drug and toilet goods counters. It's also available in larger economy bottles and the handy new tube. By the way, smart girls use Wild Road Cream Oil too, and mothers say it's grand for training children's hair. Get Wild Road Cream Oil. Again and again, the choice of men and women and children too. Back to the Apple of Eve caper. Tonight's adventure with Sam Spade. I'm around the murder apartment. I noticed something I hadn't caught the first time. Some smears of Apple of Eve nail polish as it didn't show very distinctly against the rust-colored carpeting, but left a clear trail across the kitchen lanolin. When I opened the back door, I smelled burning cloth. It was incinerated just outside, and from it I fished a man's shirt partially burned. The initials in the pocket were still intact, so were the red stains under them. The initials were GH. The stains were, you guessed it, Lieutenant, there. Apple of Eve. I'm looking for Miss Dream of Love. Is she home? No, she isn't. Thanks. I'll come in and... Wait, wait, I'm gonna... Okay, you're in. What do you want with it? She's in a little trouble. You a cop? Why do you expect her back? I don't know. What's this trouble? She threatened to kill a woman, and now she's dead. Who? A girl named Eve Adams. Why would she want to kill Eve? Boy, I got it. They were locking horns over a guy named Gorse Hagan. You know him? Yeah, and I wish I didn't. Who is he? He used to run a gambling ship down at Malibu till the law turned it into a bait barge. Now he calls himself a yachtsman. But if you're trying to connect him up with my sister, it's a bad connection. She hasn't seen him in years. His idea? Hers. Hers? And mine. Then what was the beef? And who are you? I'm her brother, Eddie's my name. And why would there be any beef between those two? Eve was my sister's best friend. She was engaged to me. Then this news must be quite a shock to you. You're taking it like a little soldier. She was asking for it. I warned her. I begged her to leave town with me, but no, she couldn't sneak off like that without letting Gorse know the score. I told her he'd kill her before he'd let her go. Mm-hmm. Do you live here, Eddie? Yeah, whatever. Where do you keep your shoes? In a closet, kiddo. Where do you keep yours? Under the bed? What's your closet in here? Wait a minute. Get your hands off me. Let me see your warmth. It better be good or you're going out of here on your head. Take your hands off me, Eddie. Let's see that warrant. All right, I got a warrant, Eddie. I didn't find what I was looking for, a pair of crepe-soled shoes with traces of apple-a-veed nail polish on them, but in one of his coat pockets, I found a sales slip from an apartment store cosmetics company. There were several items, but the one that interested me said, one lipstick nail polish set, apple-a-veed. About then, I smelled brandy and a voice behind me said, What happened to the kid? Huh? Oh, uh, he asked for my warrant. Well, when you come to see me, I'll know better. Your name is Gors Hagan. I'm headed for your place right now. What are you looking for? A pair of shoes with crepe-soles. What do you want with my deck shoes? I thought maybe they'd match up with a piece of a shirt with your initials on it. Give me that. That's a fact. Where'd you get that? An incinerator at Eve Adams Place. Well, that don't prove anything. Lots of people got the same initials. Have you talked to, uh, oh, George Howard? He's alibi. He's out of town. That proves it's a frame. I don't know any George Howard. I thought so. Okay, let's cut out the monkey business. Give it to me. That's evidence. Give it to me! All right, I'll give it to you. He gave it right back to me. I was only losing on points until I flipped over poor old Eddie and lost my balance. That's when he gave me the crew to ground. I wasn't quite unconscious, but somehow I just didn't feel like getting up. When the apartment door opened, I opened my good eye just widening up to see Dreamer Love walk in. Gorse, what are you doing here? I come to help you, Dreamer. I don't need any help from you, Gorse. I told you that three years ago. You killed Eve Adams. Why? You're wrong, Gorse. I haven't seen Eve in ages. Why did you kill her? I... All right, I did it. Yeah? Why? I was jealous, seeing the two of you together after all we'd been to each other. Go on, laugh at me. I committed murder out of love for you. It's very funny, isn't it? I'm very fond of you, Dreamer. My poor little Dreamer Love. I'd give you anything. Honey, the shirt from my back. Here. Here's a piece of it on the counter. Oh, to what? Where'd you... I see you're impressed. Me, too. Come on, we'll go someplace where we can be alone and talk things over. No, Gorse, please. I can explain everything. You're complaining the car on the way down to the boat. Come on. You're hurting me! No! Come on, knock the door. Stupid me. I stagger to my fate and stumble over to the door. I reached it just as Hagen's car pulled away from the curb. At the time I found a taxi there were at least half way to wherever they were going. I didn't know whether the boat he had mentioned was tied up at the Embarcadero, anchored in the marina, moored at Saucelito, or becalmed in Oakland. But there was a seafaring man in our town who knew about such things. My port of call was the Seahorse Bar and Grill just off ahead of Pier 16, or is it the foot? Captain Passoli? He is silent, son, as in Prasad. My mistake. Salty b'name and salty b'nature. Only one salty thing I can't abide. Salt water toffee and Matisse, you know. Here, have a lifesaver. Well, thank you, sir. You're very generous. No, it ain't money, matey, but it's straight from the min. Ha-ha! That joke was... What's up, sonny? You in the hole again? Ha-ha! You catch my drift? Yeah. What do you know about a yachtman named Gorse Hagen? Oh, nicely put. Nicely put, matey. Is there anything lower than a yachtsman? He's it. Where does he keep his boat? Well, now, if she's still afloat, she'd be dragging her hook summers off Sausalito. Now, she's a converted PT, you know, because of the Sea Queen. She had her bottom planks ripped out in the Battle of the Coral Sea and they patched her up with plywood. Well, she's got two diesels she has and twin screws, two-to-one reduction gears. Yeah, yeah. What's the quickest way of getting out to it? Well, there's not much craft for Char to hear about this time of night, you know. There's that Novak fella, but you have to present he's sleeping one hour. There he is. It might not be worth your while, anyways. Why not? Well, Hagen stopped by here 20 minutes ago looking for his engineer. Said he was casting off on-side engineer or new engineer. What about your boat? My boat. Well, now, matey, on the plotted course, she'll stand up to any double-ender Monterey Dory in the class. Yeah. Without a head sea, that is. Then, on the other hand, you'll put her in a bottom race. She's bucking a quarter swell. Yeah, yeah, how much? How much? Five dollars an hour. And that's with you, man, in the bilge pump. OK, let's go. This, uh, you're Hagen fella now. You aren't to the trim of his sails? Sails on a PT boat? Not the boats. Only the man, cut of his jib. No, I didn't notice that, but he was wearing crepes old shoes. I'll tell you about this Hagen, matey. Fellow once tried to board him. Customs officer, no less. Well, sir, I picked him up four days later in a gill net with a fish-gap so he cleaned through his nicks. Here, have another lifesaver. You may need it. After he'd lashed me to my station at the bilge pump, Captain Passoli got his double-ender Monterey Dory on a plotted course to Sausalito, he hoped, and we plunged recklessly into the fog. As nearly as I could catch his drift, there was a 50-50 chance that A, Hagen had found his engineer and would be halfway to the Feralon Islands to pass Alcatraz if we stayed afloat that long, or B, that he hadn't found his engineer and might be having trouble starting up those two diesels with the twin screws and the two-to-one reduction gears, whatever they are. Which one? About five points to port. Grey one with the high free bar. You get up on the port, eh, matey? The ladder's round on the landed side. Now swing round and put you on it. He's likely blowed nursing them diesels. You got to rear back and holler, matey, like this. Uh-huh! That's a midship, huh? Here, how do you run this thing? I got to get you to shore. That's throttle. There's your four gears. Don't pull her back all the way. She'll die. That's your intention. You lie still. What are you looking for? Jump a pocket. Lifesaver. In case you need it. I don't know more. Best wins on your after-quarter, matey. Remember this. Okay, take it easy, Captain. I hope you can see as well enough the drop-dap and salty he'd let it go at that. And I got it. He was listening. Somebody was pulling out from shore in a rowboat. I didn't waste any more time listening. I dug into Captain Saldi's jumper pocket, fished out a waterproof pouch. I took his seamen's papers out of it. He didn't need them anymore. Wrapped it around my gun. And I took off some clothes and eased myself over the side. I didn't swim for speed, but for distance. Stopping now and then to make sure the man in the boat was still covering for me. I felt my way around the hull till I found the anchor rope. Just as I grabbed it, I heard him rest his oars. Hagen, who's that? Eddie Love. What do you want? I've come after my sister. Go on home, Eddie. She's sailing with me. That's the way she watches. You're lying. Wait a second. Come on out of there, Drieber. What's happened? Your brother's down there in the boat. Talk to him. Mo, what am I gonna do? Talk to him. All right. Eddie. What's he done to yourself? I'm all right, Eddie. Everything's all right. Gerson, I've decided. Go on home, Eddie. He's lying to you. He knows you framed him. If you sail out with him, you won't come back. No, Eddie. I'm coming for her. Eddie, no. I've kicked in the stomach before. It takes a woman to kick you in the teeth. I'm sorry. I don't care what you did. What burns me up, you didn't do it right. I hate a bungler, especially a female bungler. I'm a bungler. You're the one. There would have worked if you hadn't gone poking in the incinerator. I should have called the police. They don't know what to do with evidence like that. They've been wanting to get something on Gorse ever since repeal. Listen, Angel, any flat foot could have seen through that setup. Eve Adams was sitting in front of a mirror when she was maced. She saw the murderer into the room. She got in the back of her head. That means she trusted whoever walked up behind her. That also means the evidence of a struggle was fake. Put the nail polish on Gorse's shirt. You put that nail polish on her fingers after she was dead, laid that trail to the incinerator with a pair of Gorse's shoes where any flat foot was supposed to think he tried to destroy the incriminating shirt. But the dumbest thing you did was lying to me about that matching lipstick you dropped in my office. That made you look guiltier than anybody because anybody could have planted that fake evidence. I didn't kill her. I'm not a murderer. Your brother might have got off easy. Crime of passion. Please, please don't say that. I can't bear the thought that after everything I did it's all come to nothing. Here, here, here, here. Have a life saver. You may need it. They are silent, Evers and Poisson. Go type that up. All right, kid. Last one in the package. Recently, thousands of people from coast to coast who bought wild root cream oil for the first time were asked how does wild root cream oil compare to the hair tonic you previously used? The results were amazing. Better than four out of five who replied said they preferred wild root cream oil. Remember, non-alcoholic wild root cream oil contains lanolin. It grooms the hair naturally, relieves dryness and removes loose ugly dandruff. So if you want your hair to be more attractive than ever before, get the generous new 25-cent size of wild root cream oil. America's leading hair tonic, on sale at all drug and toilet goods counters. It's also available in larger economy bottles and the handy new tube. By the way, smart girls use wild root cream oil too. And mothers say it's grand for training children's hair. Get wild root cream oil. Again and again, the choice of men and women and children too. What stopped you? The last page of my notebook going to our shortage of supplies, Sam. But in a way, I'm glad. But I didn't have to go through it again. I mean, poor Captain Poisson. Yeah, please. Please. Now, honest, I'll buy you a new notebook. A nice fat one. Would you like that? Oh, yes, Sam. Always something so final about final pages of things. When I think of all the risks you take... To say nothing of my clients, I think I'll put a new sign on the door. Abandoned hope all ye who enter here. Oh, but I haven't, Sam. Where there's a will, there's a wisp. There's a what? A wisp, Sam. Small amount. Which reminds me. A couple of fingers like that. Join me? Just a wisp? Oh, no, Sam. One of us has got to have a clear head. Well, it'll be me. My best. Good night, Sam. Good night, sweetheart. Ventures of Sam Spade, Dashel Hammett's famous private detective, are produced and directed by William Spear. Sam Spade is played by Howard Duff. Lorraine Tuttle is epi. Howard Duff can now be seen starring in Universal International's Technicolor production of Calamity Jane and Sam Bass. Ventures of Sam Spade are written for radio by Bob Tallman and Gil Dowd. Musical direction by Lut Gluskin with score composed by Rene and Pierre Garagin. Join us again next Sunday when author Dashel Hammett and producer William Spear join forces for another adventure with Sam Spade. Brought to you by Wild Root Creme Oil. Again and again, the choice of men and women and children, too. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.