 Would you hand me that, please? Thank you. Now, let's see. Survey, survive, Susanna, suspect. Ah, here we are. Suspense, meaning held in doubt, expressing doubt, the state of being uncertain, undecided, or insecure, state of anxious expectation, or waiting for information, such as to keep one in suspense, therefore delay acquainting him with what he is eager to know. Suspense, an hour of suspense now, a full 60 minutes at this time, and with the distinguished actor-director, Robert Montgomery, as your host. Tonight, our star is Howard Duff, famous wherever radio is heard as Sam Spade Detective, and as Spade, he will appear in The Candy Tooth, a suspense play produced, edited, and directed by William Spear. This is Robert Montgomery. My pleasure and privilege it is to be here during this hour each week as a sort of guide, philosopher, and fiend, an accessory before and after the facts of crime and punishment, which calculatedly fill our minutes with suspense. This evening, before we chat a little about the private life of America's favorite, Private Eye, let me, on behalf of Mr. Spear and all of us, thank you sincerely for your wonderful letters and telegrams expressing appreciation and interest in this new full-hour presentation. It's wonderful fun to have 60 minutes to play with in radio drama. In our new double-strength, king-size format, we plan to bring you radio plays based on complete novels and on theatrical productions and pictures. Many of the best writers of this literature, James M. Kane, Dashel Hammett, Raymond Chandler, Graham Greene, Eric Ambler, and Agatha Christie, have been happiest with a more spacious canvas upon which to display their characters of passion and purpose. With a full hour for our theater of thrills, we can give these authors a full stage on which to have their people play out their lusts and desires, their temptations and frustrations, their frantic fears and villainous triumphs, their descent into black and terror-laden bewilderment. Sometimes we find ourselves locked in the tortured brain of the scheming criminal. At other times, we know the dread of the hunted and hapless victim. But always the basic ingredient of suspense is not mechanical gadgetry, not the detectable piecing out of fingerprints and convenient clues, but always the basic ingredient is people. For people give us emotion, and emotion marks the high drama that cold logic can never achieve. Nowhere will you find stranger people, motives, and situations than those that pass through the door of a little office in San Francisco's Post Street. The lettering on the door reads, Samuel Spade, Private Investigations. Once it read Spade and Archer, but that was before Miles Archer stopped a bullet and plunged Sam Spade into the greatest detective adventure of modern times, the search for the Maltese Falcon. It was literally a shot heard round the world, for it brought into prominence the name of Dashiell Hammett and the so-called Hardboil School of Crime Detection. Since then, the fictional Private Eye has become a national institution, but Sam Spade still rules the roost. In book sales, in motion pictures, Maltese Falcon has been filmed four times now. And now on the air, every Sunday night, in the adventures of Sam Spade, starring Howard Duff and produced by our very own Bill Speer. It's a great pleasure for me to introduce to our suspense audience now, a young star from my home lot, Universal International, in the role with which he has become so closely identified that most of his fan mail is addressed to Sam Spade. Howard Duff. Thanks, Bob. I'd like to go on record right now saying that any checks I may sign with the name Sam Spade will be accepted at your own risk. The detective business has been pretty good lately, I hear. How much did Sam make during 1947? Uh, if he would know. But no matter how much it was, it won't change Sam. He's, you know, he'll still do business at the same old stand in a rickety office building on Post Street where the elevator seldom ever works and the janitor never ever works. As a matter of fact, I got into my Philip Marlowe pants this morning and did little Spade work on Spade myself. Don't stop me if I'm wrong, but here are some of the facts, FAX facts, the way I dug them up. Age, nobody talked. History, mysterious, but was probably a Pinkerton man to start with. Height, six feet in a small chunk. Weight, enough muscle to go with his height. Hair, dimmed out blonde. Eyes, yellow gray, unmarried. Lives alone in a small furnished apartment within walking distance of his office. Is economical to the point of, well, never takes a cab where street cars can get and has been known to walk where they can't get. Secretary Effie Perine, the only person who really knows what makes Sam tick when he wants her to. Otherwise, he's a lonely man who trusts no one, lives alone and loves alone and expects others to like it. Have I left anything out? Well, nothing you left out, Bob, something you've put in. It's not true that I don't trust anybody. I trust everybody. All my clients are honest until I've proven otherwise. Maybe that's what's kept you from the private eye business all these years. That and the strong hatred that I have. Hatred? Yeah, for time clocks and the hours between nine and five. That's why I went out of business for myself and that's what keeps me there. Then you regard it as a business, Sam, and not as an adventure. Well, when you break an arm in an adventure, the cost of setting it is not tax deductible. In a business, it is. Yes, I see. How many cases have you had? And do you think all private dicks are clever? Well, I've had so many cases, I can't remember them all. About being clever, I once knew an operative who, looking for pickpockets at San Anita Raystrak had his wallet stolen. He later became a lieutenant of detectives in Glendale. Sam, tell me, what was the most surprising thing that ever happened to you? The most surprising thing that ever happened to me was in 1936 in Washington, D.C. I met a young lady on a bus who did not remark that my work must be very interesting. Well, that's very interesting. Thanks a lot. But I guess my most exciting caper since the Maltese Falcon was the hugger mugger over the candy tooth. Usually when I wind a caper, I call Effie just to let her know I'm okay before I hustle down to the office to dictate my report to the client. But this time, it was 4.30 in the morning before I could get to a phone. The reason was that I was in jail. Wake up, Angel. You're home in bed, not at the office. Huh? Hey. What time is it? 4.30 in the morning. Are you up already? Effie, pull yourself together. Get dressed. Hustle down to the city jail. Oh, same. Well, that's what I got to get on the record. Now, while I'm still alive to do it, grab a taxi and hustle on down. Bring a book, pencils, the encyclopedia that has the letter K in it and any old $20,000 you got laying around. Same work. My apartment's being redecorated. Bring your book. Well, of course I did. And pencils, too. Put your hair on a murder charge, Sam. Whatever could have happened to you. Take it down, Effie. But, Sam, what did you do? The San Francisco Homicide Bureau. Attention, Detective Lieutenant Dundee. Date, fill it in. I will. Drum Samuel Spade, license number 137596. Subject, the Candy Toothcaper. Dear Dundee, I don't know all the answers, not yet. What I do know is going down on paper while I'm still alive to get it there. Oh, same. The scenario runs something like this. This morning, a telegram came to my office. It was addressed to Samuel Spade Esquire. And it was signed Casper Gutman. Gutman, the fat man. Far as I knew, Dundee, when you closed your books on the Maltese Falcon Capers seven years ago, Gutman was entered as dead. First, I fought the telegram with somebody's idea of a joke. And when I read it through the second time, I knew it was no joke. There's nobody else who thinks or talks or writes like Casper Gutman. My dear Mr. Spade, you will no doubt receive with mixed emotions the news of my imminent reappearance in the city of the Golden Gate. Hence, the companion dispatch of a telegraphic draft and the amount of $1,000, which you are free to convert into coin at the realm. This trifling sum, sir, is merely a token of my esteem for a man of many resources and nice judgments. And for it, I do not require any specific service. However, if you feel so disposed, sir, you are free to accept my considered advice in the matter of an invidious pair of rogues. To wit, one Lawrence Laverne, DDS, and or Hope Laverne, whose charms and aliases are far too myriad to enumerate in this necessarily abbreviated communication. Should either or both of these persons approach you, beware the hidden truth. Believe me, sir, they are untruthful and reliable and totally devoid of all moral sensibilities. I count upon you to make no commitments to them or anyone else until you've heard my proposition. This I hope to lay before you when I arrive in San Francisco this very evening. Dear Joel, since regards, I remain your a billion-servant Casper Gutman. Casper Gutman. I know, Dundee, you figured I didn't get hurt much the last time I tangled with Gutman over the Maltese Falcon, but that's because you didn't know Bridgette O'Shaughnessy as well as I did, as well or as warmly. Well, I figured if Gutman was still in the land of the living, let him come. This time, I wasn't gonna get hurt in any way. There couldn't be two Bridgetts. Nevertheless, I ate a can of spinach, which I found on Effie's desk, then I sat down again facing the door. Nothing much happened for almost 10 minutes. I was still trying to dig the meaning out of Gutman's double-talk and I'd gotten about as far as his warning about a hidden tooth when Effie ushered a man into my office. Mr. Spade. Well, I must say that you are indeed a pleasant surprise, but pleasant. You said it. What can I do for you? My name is Laverne. Larry Lawrence Laverne. How do you do? I shall spare you the tasks and details and plunge right into the problem. Oh, dear. At the Hotel Royal George, there is a mildewed creed doing, but mildewed, registered as Mr. Herman Julius. Oh, a really frightful person. Very frightful, huh? Oh, the kiss of death department. The only thing about this creature that has any charm is a foretoot lower bridge in his right jaw. Now, Mr. Spade, I want you to get that bridge for me. I'm sorry, it sounds as though you're saying I want you to get that bridge for me. Precisely. Why? Because he refuses to pay me for it. You're a dentist? I prefer to regard myself as a dentist sculpturer. I created this bridge for Mr. Julius with infinite pains, and now, now he refuses to pay me. I ask payment and he accuses me of acting without charm. Mr. Julius wouldn't happen to be a very large, fat man. Oh, contraire, skin and bones. Well, Mr. Spade? I'm afraid you come to the wrong man, Mr. Laverne, which you want as a lawyer to sue him. Sue him? Months of legal wrangling? Oh, no, oh, no, no, no, no. I intend to be vindictive about this. I am by nature a very gracious and charming person, but now, now let him beware. I shall have that bridge from Herman Julius, even if you must knock him down and wrench it from his jaw. You tried knocking him down yourself? Oh, I, I could never even bring myself to perform extractions. I always send those patients to less sensitive dentists. Yeah, well, I'm afraid you'll have to find yourself a less sensitive private detective. Oh, oh, dear. Well, Mr. Spade, what would you advise me to do? I, I... Mr. Laverne, I would advise you to get out of California before Walt Disney sees you. Well, well, good day, sir. I would like very much to have you in my care some day. I might teach you some manners. Well, the hidden truth. Please sit down, Mr.... Thank you. Laverne, hope Laverne. Mr. Laverne? Yes. What can I do for you? Well, I'm, uh, I'm looking for my brother. Missing? Well, yes, yes, and no. I mean, he's been gone since yesterday, and I'm terribly afraid he'll get into trouble. Oh, what kind of trouble? Well, you see, it, it, but it just isn't easy for me to talk about this, Mr. Spade. Well, now, Mr. Laverne, suppose you just lean back in that chair, close your eyes and... Yes, thank you. Yes, it's easier like this. I thought you'd like... My brother's name is Lawrence. He's a man of 52. He's, uh, he's not well. I mean, he, he gets spelled, and he acts peculiarly. He suffered a nervous breakdown some years ago, and he spent most of his life in sanitariums. Where are you from, Miss Laverne? Kansas City. During the past year, Larry was in a rest home in Palo Alto, and I arrived two days ago to take him home. Yesterday morning, he... Well, I don't know how it happened, but he's gone. These, uh, spells you mentioned, what do they like? Oh, well, he assumes different personalities. His favorite seems to be that of a dentist. He becomes obsessed with the thought that he's done some work, a bridge or something, or someone who refuses to pay him. He'll walk up to a perfect stranger and create a scene. He's been arrested a few times, nothing serious, public nuisance. Mr. Spade, I'm afraid that he'll be... He'll be put away if he's arrested once more. I say, and you want me to look for him. Then he hasn't been here. Why'd you think he'd come here? Oh, that, that's another one of his tactics. He goes to a private detective, hires him to either follow a man or get back the work he thinks he's done. Dental work, you know. But what made you think he'd come to me? Oh, not you, particularly. Since yesterday, I've tried almost every private detective in San Francisco. No one has seen him. Who'd you talk to? I beg your pardon? These are private detectives. Who'd you see? Oh. Well, um, um, there was a man named Graham and, uh, one named Marlowe, Philip Marlowe. Excuse me. You like a drink? No. That's Spade, Phil. Hiya, Sam. Phil, uh, you got a rumble on a missing brother named, uh, Larry Laverne? Yeah, yeah. Cal was in early this morning. Brother, some kind of a screwball. You meet him? No, no, hasn't been around yet. Ah, thanks, Phil. See you. Why did you do that, Mr. Spade? It's doing things like that that have kept me alive and in business all these years. That was Marlowe. Your brother hasn't been to him. I told you that. But your brother has been here. When? A few minutes before you came in. Can't see how you missed him. What did he tell you, Mr. Spade? Pretty much as you outlined it. About the dental work and some man owing him money. Yeah, some man named Julius, uh, Herman Julius, he said. You know him? I never heard of him. He's probably just another figment of Larry's imagination. Mr. Spade, I'm terribly worried about Larry. I got that impression. Will you try to find him for me? Can you give me any idea where I might start looking? Well, I, I, I think I know how Larry's mind works when he's in the midst of one of these spells. And if you find this Mr. Julius, you'll probably find Larry close by. So you want me to find Mr. Julius first? Oh, well, I only thought it would be simpler checking on this Mr. Julius movements than on Larry's unpredictable whims, you see. I, don't you think that makes good sense, Mr. Spade? Miss Laverne told me she was staying at the Pickwick Arms. And I said I would call her if I found her brother. And she said, thank you, thank you very much. And I said it's nothing, just part of the day's routine. And then she kissed me and left. After lunch, I strolled over to the Royal George Hotel. Duke, the housekeeper, gave me a rundown on Mr. Julius, a quiet, nervous little man who'd sealed himself up in his room for two days, eating out a room service. I didn't have any trouble finding the hacky who had driven him away when he checked out. He gave me the address. And 20 minutes later, I was mounting the front steps of a greasy rooming house on Sacramento Street. I twisted the rusty bell in the door and a long, sharp nose that could only belong to a landlady stabbed out at me. What do you want? I'm looking for a man named Herman Julius. Don't have no Julius here. Well, maybe he gave some other name, a little skinny guy with a foreign accent. You, the Lord. Take me to his room. No, wait a minute, no, no. Well, step it, Dad. He's home. I've never seen him go out. He came for one door. Watch that step, second from the top. This is busted. Don't want no lawsuit. It's the third. Said he was a refuge. The Nazis were there for him. Ugh, another fight. There's been a tangle with the Lord. I've got a rule of sneaking electric plates, they do. Run up the bills, buzzards, there's his room. Then the dope cook in the room to drink. Get DT's, some of them. I'll go on any. I didn't see who it was right away. His face was the color and consistency of crushed strawberries. I helped him up and over to the wash basin in the corner of the room. With his face washed, he looked a little better, but he still looked like Larry Laverne. Oh, oh, am I ever glad to see you. I thought it was them coming back to kill me. Did you find Julius? No, no, got away with the wretch down the fire escape as I came in. Who did this to you, big fat man? To tell the honest truth, Mr. Spade, I never even got a good look at him. He was all over me before I even had him. Oh, it's Julius. What's in his bridge work? I'll tell you everything, everything. But please, first, let's get out of this ordered room. Oh, it smells like cabbie. Larry Laverne was tougher than he looked. After the going over he'd gotten, you or I would have been hospital bound, Dundee. But he did a late take. We were on the way back to his hotel walking toward market when he crumpled in the middle like a sack of flour. I grabbed him and held him upright, looked wirely around for somewhere to park him. We were standing in front of a newsreel theater. I bought two tickets and piloted him inside. We sat down. I undid his clutch in my arm and concentrated on the screen, the subject that followed the football game was some big Oriental celebration somewhere in India or someplace, a very fancy parade with white elephants. Candy, Ceylon, the famed white elephants of the Orient get their annual airing as crowds of devout Buddhists gather to do homage to some of the strangest relics in the modern world. Here in Candy, the mecca of the Buddhist religion, pilgrims gather from near and far. Indian Rajas, Burmese officials, and Chinese dignitaries in ceremonial dress cross straight themselves before the Jewer casket containing the most sacred object of the Buddhist world, legendary relic of Buddha himself. As the Orient goes wild in turbulent celebration, temple dancers of Candy perform for the ground heads of the Orient. Take me out of here. I can't stand it. I'll go mad. I tell you, sock-raving mad. I think it's easier unknowing the customers. You brought me in here on purpose. You're trying to drive me crazy, but crazy. Listen to me. Two men holding up the sacred relics are high priests. If that man says that one word, Candy, just once more, I won't be responsible. I tell you, I won't be responsible. All right, glad you're here. Take me out of here. What the end? Oh, you got me doing it. Come on. Let's get out of here. An impressive ceremony indeed. Just one night's sleep and I'll be a new man. I haven't even dared to take 40 winks since I arrived in this town for fear those monsters might murder me in my bed. Yeah, yeah, I know. It's tough. Sit down. So this is your apartment? That's what I laughingly call it, living room, bedroom, ice box. Here, have a drink. Me, too. Oh, thanks. Oh. Oh, did I ever need that? Got yourself to the bottle. I don't touch alcohol as a rule, but after what I've been through. Well, now, drink all you like. You deserve it. Oh, thank you. When I hardly know where to begin, it's also strange. And there I was in Lisbon, Mr. Spade, the only English-speaking dentist worthy of the name of the entire diplomatic colony. Well, you must have read in the papers about Dom Constantino's tomb being violated. It was the scandal of the season. Oh, it's all so horrible, Mr. Spade. I just can't talk about it. Hey, hey, hey, try to keep it. I mean more of this, settles the nerves. Oh, I just don't know how I can ever thank you. Ever since I hit this burg, I've been feeling like the forgotten, pardon, man. Yeah, you were saying something about a tomb being broken into. In Portugal, this was? Yes. Well, you know, the draft board just took one look at me. I know what you mean. So I just stayed on in Lisbon. Well, you know how people gossip, having patience of all nationalities and all that. Yeah, yeah, I get it. Between the Nazis and the Allies, you were quite a social lion. Oh, wait a minute. Don't get the idea I was a spy. Well, no, but sometimes people had things that could be hidden in a hollowed tooth and like that bridgework, you know? I think I told you I'm not so much a dentist as a dental artist. Well, that fat Mr. Gutman brought me this tooth, you see? Gutman? Yes, yes, Mr. G and that Joe Cairo person that was with him. Well, they brought me this tooth, though, a horrid yellow old thing, practically a fang. They wanted to put it in Mr. Julius' bridge. Made me a thousand pounds, can you imagine? Then when I learned what they had done, well, it made me positively ill. This practically sacred old tomb in the cathedral, they'd broken in and literally torn out a piece of his jawbone. Whose? Why, Dom Constantino's. And who's Dom Constantino? The Portuguese viceroy. It didn't hurt him any. He's been dead 500 years at least every day. Oh, dear. I'm as tight as a tick. This liquor is getting to me. And it was. I thought he'd open up some more, but I overplayed the bourbon. Half a bottle later, he passed out. I flopped on the sofa and tried to get some sleep for myself. My dreams kept getting in the way. I had newsreel dreams in technicolor. I dreamed that a white elephant with a face like Casper Gutman was leading a parade down Market Street. The how-da that was strapped to his back looked like a dentist's chair. Herman Julius was sitting in it, but this face seemed to be blanked out. Joel Cairo, wearing a surgeon's gown and a turban, was drilling Julius' tooth. The crowds were throwing diamonds and rubies when the peanut bags they were carrying, and Gutman vacuumed them up with his trunk. That was when the bells started ringing in the Buddhist temple that had been built on top of the Mark Hopkins. Mr. Spade, I need your help. Who's this? Hope Laverne, please, Mr. Spade, I'm terrified. Where are you? I'm in a drugstore at 5th and Mission. You're the busty fool? Yes, please, come at once, Mr. Spade. Can't you come here? I can't. I don't dare go into the streets. All right, wait there. I'm on my way. I took a quick gander at Laverne, saw he was still out cold, slipped into my topcoat, and left the apartment. I figured it would take me 11 minutes to hustle over to 5th and Mission. I never got any further than 50 yards from the front of my building. I sensed him behind me, wheeled suddenly, bumped him into a doorway, held the thumbs of his hands, gripped tightly in my fist, and stand still or I'll tear him off. Let go. I'm killing you. Don't move, and it won't hurt. You filthy beast. The boy twisted suddenly and violently, and I heard the crack of his left thumb breaking. He swallowed a scream, dashed on him to the deserted street. I went after him, turned over the alley, and caught the butt of a gun behind my right ear. I don't know how long I was out, but I do know I came to at least three hours too soon. I needed much more rest. I opened my eyes, steadied a swaying ceiling, and then I heard his voice. Well, sir. This is indeed a jolly reunion. Be, but it was. Casper Gutman, the fat man of the Maltese falcon caper. Looking at the unholy trio there in the room, Joel Cairo, the little leventine, still as oily and smiling as ever and still fragrant. Marvin, a sullen, white-faced, hollow-eyed youth as near Wilmer's double as anyone will ever see. And Gutman spruces ever in his black cutaway coat, black vest and gray striped trousers. You'd have thought nothing had happened since then, not even the war. The grayness at Cairo's temples only made his baby face look more babyish. And about Gutman, nothing was different except his watch chain. The curious, jewel-encrusted ornament dangled from it, shaped like a claw. You seem surprised to see me, sir. And no wonder. It's always disconcerting to encounter a ghost, especially such a substantial ghost. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since last we met, eh? Under the bridge? Yes, which brings us to the subject at hand, the bridge. My headaches. What about the bridge? First, we'll talk a bit. After all, this is quite an occasion, sir. Reunion of old friends, eh, Mr. Spade? Yeah. Tell me, has you ever find the falcon if you'll excuse the expression? Oh. Your eyes are resting on all that remains of that fabulous bird, sir. Yes, that trinket on his watch chain, all the remains of the Maltese falcon. Well, Mark, you, sir, what part of it survived, the claw. You believe in omen? Right now, I'm ready to believe almost anything. Indeed, sir. Well, no need for dissembling. We're old and wiser, I trust, than in the days of the falcon. Suffice it to say, the unsavory and bloated object which the police dredged up from San Francisco Bay and identified as myself was some other poor soul. Wilma, I am happy to say remembered the debt of gratitude he owed me, and at the last moment agreed to be a part of the very necessary little deception. That is, since they had him cold, as you detected, say for the other killings, he might as well confess to murdering me. He did so in exchange for my agreement to take care of his family in a financial way. An investment, by the way, which has paid rich dividend. How's that? Oh, indeed. Well, thanks to it, I now have Marvin, Wilma's younger brother. I thought I noticed a family resemblance. Oh, shut up! Oh, yes, yes, poor Wilma. He was like a son to me, like a son. It didn't stop me from making him a patsy. I hate to test killing Mr. Spade. I cautioned Wilma time and again. He was so headstrong. Oh, my boy. You'd better caution this punk, or he won't last to take any raps for you. Ah, Marvin, Marvin. Dirty shammers lays not a hand on me. I'll kill him. No, no, no, Marvin, Marvin. You take Marvin into the other room. Explain to him that Mr. Spade and I are very old friends. Casper knows best, Marvin. Come with me. And now, no nonsense you two now. Well, somehow I'll kill him. I'll kill him. Casper would be happy. Hot headed, runs in that family. Yeah. Well, let's have it, Guttland. What are you after this time? Oh, my dear boy, you must judge me. It's true I had Marvin check up on you, but only because of your association with Miss Laverne. Oh, no matter now. I'm weary of the chase. All the way from Candy, I... Ahem. What did the girl tell you? She asked me to find her brother at Dennis named Laverne. You believed her story? No. Most unscrupulous woman. No veracity, no regard for truth whatsoever. A true motive? Merely to make trouble for me and my friends because of her association with Kimidoff. Ah, the Russian's hand again, Mr. Spade. Kimidoff? Did I ever meet Kimidoff? You'd hardly forget if you had. In short, here is my proposition. Another $1,000 coin to the realm, sir, for which you will refund whatever money Miss Laverne gave you and send her packing. The bidding starts at $10,000. Ooh, ooh, ooh. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Spade. Very well. I'll meet your turn. I told you the bidding starts there. And where does it stop? Half or whatever the caper nets you. I deliver Julius. You do the rest. Between you and me, Mr. Spade, I'm not as air fluent as I once was. The Falcon pretty well wiped me out financially. Considering the time and money I've already invested in trying to track down the weasel of Julius. What's in Julius's bridge work? And if I don't choose to tell you? Then it's no dice. Think it over, Gutman. Either I'm in all the way for half or I deliver Julius to the other outfit. And that is your final dictum, sir? Take it or leave it. Either you're in or you're out. Good night, Mr. Spade. I trust you will call me on the telephone when you reach your dickens and tell me that you've changed your mind. No hard feelings. The fog was clearing and only a few white wisps of it were clinging to twin pigs when I walked home that morning. It was too late to worry about hope. Or did chief phone for Gutman to decoy me out so that I started walking faster? As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, I heard a door open on the landing and the slot of light that stabbed out from it showed me it was my door. The light came from behind, whoever had opened it, and I couldn't see who it was at first, only that it was not Larry Laverne. I took the last flight four steps at a time. Dundee, what's happened? You may not see for yourself. When I saw for myself, I wish somebody else had seen for me. Hysterical Larry was lying on his back in my bedroom floor. His eyes were wide open and he had a crooked grin on his face, a very crooked grin. Whoever had killed him had wrenched his jaw out of place. I'm not saying you killed him, Sam. I'm only asking you who did. Don't be a child, Dundee. Why was he killed? No statement. What was he doing here? Who is he? The name he gave was Laverne. I let him flop here because he was afraid to go home. Afraid of who? A man named Casper Gutman. What? Yeah, Gutman. Quite stalling, Sam. Gutman's dead and you know it. You bury him, Dundee? Well, I believe you mean it. For Gutman's concern, it doesn't pay to kid around. What's the afterno? The bridge work out of a man's mouth. The man's name is Julius. What's in this Julius bridge work? Maltese falcon? Something like that. I'm sorry, Sam. It's not good enough. I'll have to take you in. So you took me and you booked me. Vail was set at $20,000. You saw to that. You figured there's only one operator who'd put up that kind of money to spring me and that's Casper Gutman. I hope you're right. Period. And the first part, at least, of sob story. But, Sam, what is in Herman Julius' bridge work? Laverne told me it was the tooth Gutman stole out of a skeleton in an old Portuguese catacomb. What's so valuable about that? I don't know. Could be a jewel inside of it? It's not Gutman's kind of game. Besides the thing that made poor Laverne blow his top in that newsreel theater was something more like an elephant tusk. Where's that encyclopedia? Did you bring it? Oh, yes, I did, Sam. Yes, I did. What's nice, Mark? Look it up. Look what up. Candy with a K. Oh. K, car, can. Oh, here it is. Candy. K, not funny. City, capital of central province of Ceylon, located near the center of the island north. Spare me the geography. Well, the railroad from Colombo. And noted for its waterfalls and stuff and stuff and stuff. The city surrounds an artificial lake and is sacred to Buddhists for a temple of Maligawa, which enshrines the tooth of Buddha brought according to legend. What? Let me see that. Grail? Let me see. It's sacred to the Buddhist for its temple of Maligawa, which enshrines it. Effie. What's the matter, Sam? The tooth of the Buddha. Sam, you don't think that's what's in Herman Julius' bridge work? If it was, Gutman would be after him. But how did he get to Portugal? If it did, Gutman's a man that could track it down. Sam, you sure there? No, Angel. No. The only thing I am sure of is this. When the Maltese falcon laid an egg, it hatched a flock of vultures. And they're all circling right around my head. Well, cheer up, Sam. You won't be in jail long. I'll bring you a cake with a file in it. Angel. No, devil food. In tonight's full hour of suspense, Howard Duff, our star, appears as Sam Spade, with Joseph Kearns as Casper Gutman, in William Spears' production of The Candy Tooth. Tonight's study in suspense. In just a moment, we will return with the second half of The Candy Tooth. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. And now, back to our Hollywood soundstage and Robert Montgomery. At the point at which we interrupted Sam Spade's narrative, just now, things were at a pretty pass. A pretty pass, indeed. A pretty pass. Sam wound up with the body of the dentist, Larry Laverne, in his apartment. The girl, Hope, waiting for him in the bus station. Casper Gutman, the fat man, waiting for him to answer, and waiting for an answer to his ultimatum that Spade produced the tooth, or else. Me and City Prison under $20,000 bail and the fabulous Candy Tooth, still chomping on two-bit hamburgers and the bridgework of a very elusive man named Herman Julius. Yes, and? Well, after I dictated my report to Effie on what had happened until then, she left and I laid down to think. Lieutenant Dundee and I had agreed that I should spend the night in the pokey. He figured that the 20G bail would draw only one man to put up that much mule out of Springmeat, Casper Gutman. Along about nine in the AM, the turnkey unlocked the door of myself. I followed him out to the desk. The $20,000 bucks were there, but no sign of benefactor, benefactress, or Samaritan of any type. The bond was in my name. I signed my release and walked out. Across the street was parked a long black limousine with a curtains drawer. I started for it when a force at my elbow checked me. Your sin, your spade. See? I'm Dom Constantino de Braganza, his eye who have put up the $20,000. Is that so? Well, thank you. Now, why? I desire a service, my cards in her. Dom Constantino, wait a minute. She'll seem to know the name. Yeah, yeah. For a guy who's been dead 500 years, you don't look too bad. Thank you very much. You're referring, of course, to my illustrious ancestor, Dom Constantino, the first Portuguese vice-drive Indian who indeed had been dead since the 16th century. Is on his behalf, I speak to you now. What can I do for him? Restore the tooth, which was wrenched from his skull by a pack of unspeakable ghouls who violated his tomb in Lisboa. You think they're in San Francisco? Let us not be naïves in here. The contemptible little dentist Laverne was killed in your apartment. Therefore, you must know the whereabouts of the other ghouls. I know so many ghouls, senor. You'll have to be more specific. I refer to a fat pig named C. Goodman and an odorous little camel named J. Cairo, and most especially to a woman of the female sex by name H. Laverne. You want them or the tooth? Both, not one without the other. Then it'll take a little time. They haven't got the tooth. You know who it is? In the bridge work of a man named Julius. That then explains the dentist and the diabolical manner which they employed in smuggling the tooth out of Lisboa. Now you go on home, and you stay there until I call you, huh? Senor, I respect your judgment. Thank you. You will find me at the Hotel San Rafael, and for your retainer, you may consider the $20,000 bond as yours. Wow. Adios, senor. Adios. Be careful crossing streets. Adios. Adios. Adios. Adios. Now I'm Constantino. Adios. Yeah, adios. Adios. Adios, senor. You, uh, got a hack license, Miss Laverne? Oh, please don't, Sam. I know this car is ridiculous, but I don't dare use taxis or be seen on the street. What did that man tell you? What happened last night when you called me from the bus station in such a panic? Why didn't you call? I went to see the fat man. You saw Guttman? Did he mention me? He didn't make that call last night to get me out of the apartment so that somebody could get in and kill Laverne. Oh, Sam. Then why did you call? Because I found Herman Julius, and I'm driving you there now. We didn't do any talking after that. She sat very close to me. There was plenty to talk about, but we didn't do any talking after that. I was vaguely aware that we were driving across the Oakland. And a few minutes later we pulled up in front of an apartment building. We took the elevator up to the ninth floor. This is it, Sam. 9B. No, he's in there, Sam. I know he is. Knock, knock, knock. Mr. Julius. Julius. Go away. There's no Julius here. That's his voice. Mr. Julius, I've got to talk to you. It's very important. If you don't open the door, I'll have to. I've killed myself. I've killed myself. He will, Sam. He will. You've got to stop him. It was the ninth floor he started from. Poor frightened little Herman Julius was dead on arrival. By the time we made it downstairs, the street was cluttered with cops. I grabbed hope by the arm, hustled her around the corner to a rented limousine, and told her I'd call her later. My next stop was the fat man himself. Reconsidered. You found Julius. I know where he is. And your term, sir. What are your terms? 100,000 cash on the line. Out of the question, Mr. Spade. No cash, no tooth. You've found another buyer? Yeah. A man named Konstantina de Burganzis says the tooth belongs in the head of his ancestor by a previous marriage. A quenconcy, sir, very true. And what else did he say to you? That he'd double any bid that you made on the tooth. My dear fellow, have you any inkling and any remote idea of the value of that tooth? No, well, I'll tell you, sir. But let me warn you. If I tell you, and you do not then produce the tooth. Yeah, yeah, let's get on with it, Godwin. Yes. Let's sit down, sir. How much do you know the 16th century history of the orange? Well, enough to fill that tooth, will it? Capital joke, sir. I shall give you a little more, and now say to fill an elephant tusk. I'm listening. Well, sir, when the Portuguese invaded India in the 16th century and established the city of Goa, there were three main empires in the audience, namely China, India, and Burma. And the rulers of all three empires sought to rule the world. No, legend had it that in order to become lord of the world, a monarch had first to be the possessor of seven gems. That's gems spelled with a J, sir. Yes, gems. This is no fantasy, I'm telling you, Mr. Spade. This is actual history, seven gems. And what were those seven gems? You tell me. The first six do not concern us, Mr. Spade. A golden wheel of white elephant all easy to come by for an oriental monarch. But the seven, ah, Mr. Spade, the seven. Oh, is that a tooth? The tooth, Mr. Spade, the tooth. The sacred tooth of the great lord Buddha himself. That remained in the temple of Maligawa at Canday on the island of Silang. Now, many kings sent armies to capture it, but all were defeated by the fierce Brahmins who stood guard at the temple gates. And so we come to the year 1552. It's about time. Now, in that year, the Portuguese viceroy, Dom Constantino de Braganza, landed near Jaffna with a force of 1,220 men and defeated the king's legions in a savage battle. He returned to Goa with his victorious army and the tooth, which he retained as his personal pride. It was not long before the Burmese king, by now, by name, sent an emissary to Dom Constantino, offering the modern equivalent of a million pound sterling as ransom for the tooth. I'd get the Portugal. Hear me out, sir. Hear me out. Hear me out. All right. Well, before the transaction could be consummated, the Portuguese archbishop, called on Dom Constantino and in the name of the inquisition, demanded the tooth. After some delay, Dom Constantino, under threat of torture, delivered a tooth into the archbishop's hand, and that tooth was publicly destroyed. The archbishop grinding it into powder with morphine pestle and scattering the residue open of fire that the tooth might be utterly consumed. Shortly after this, Dom Constantino's personal physician, after drawing a tooth, now mind you, a tooth, from the viceroy's head, died under very mysterious circumstances. We may safely infer that the substitute tooth, which he drove into the viceroy's jawbone after the primitive fashions of dentistry in those days, was the candy tooth, put there for safekeeping until Dom Constantino could resume negotiations with by now emissary. Yeah. But, but, but, before that could be accomplished, Dom Constantino was stricken with the plague, carried aboard ship, and home to Portugal, where he died. He was entombed with the candy tooth still in his head. Now, the manuscript which fell into the possession of the Russian Kemidoff, and later into mine, but I shall not go into unnecessary detail, Of course not. was Dom Constantino's deathbed confession, proving beyond the shadow of a doubt that the real candy tooth had reposed for more than four centuries, not in the great temple at Candy in Salon, but in a Portuguese tooth. Yeah, well, I think I can take it from there. You still haven't told me what my percentage is. Well, my dear boy, if your percentage were one tenth of one percent of what Candy realized on that tooth, you could retire to a life of sloth and luxury for the rest of your days. For the restoration of the true relic, there is no limit to what the Buddhist world could and would pay. Gifts and tribute paid to one temple alone exceed 11 million dollars a year. Now my boy, you begin to comprehend something of its value. I'll still settle the cash. Very well then. Ten thousand dollars. It's a deal. If you understand, Mr. Spade, now that you have my secret, the affair must be gotten over quickly for good and all. If it is not, believe me, this time I shall not bargain with you for my life. You shall bargain with me for yours. After I left Gutton when I called you, Dundee, and found out by a clever ruse where Herman Julius' body had been sent, you told me. Then I hustled on over to the mortuary. As I walked in, a hushed young man wearing a hushed cutaway and a hushed expression greeted me. Good evening, sir. I'm Converse Ettridge. Can I be of service? Thank you. I've come to pay my last respects to an old friend. I... Can I be alone with him for a few minutes? His name? Julius. Herman Julius. Oh yes, yes, his widow is here, sir. Mrs. Julius. His widow, huh? Yes, she's inconsolable. Perhaps, as a dear friend of the departed, you might give her words of comfort. Please go in. Thank you. A little woman in black was sobbing quietly to herself. She turned around when she heard me come in. Her eyes lit up with hate, but then suddenly she grabbed something from her pocketbook and held it at me. It was a 45 and her hand was shaking. Yeah, this time I will do it. Always before I didn't have the heart. Always hating bloodshed. Yes, he-he, groin. I'm a detective, I... I want to punish the people responsible for your husband's death. Yeah, yeah, I believe you. This gun, I was going to follow poor Herman. There didn't seem to be any reason for going on. Now tell me something about yourself and your husband, Mrs. Julius. Ah, that's an old story now. Years of separation in different concentration camps, bribery and bribery, then my children and I, we were finally released. Came to this country. After two years, Herman brought us from Lisbon. He knew soon he would be with us. But even though the war was finished, they had lost. Still they went after Herman Julius. He knew the Nazis were behind him all the time. And even here, in this country, he did not dare come to me. Mrs. Julius, you see, those people that followed your husband this time weren't Nazis. They weren't even after him. They were after something he was carrying. In Lisbon, didn't he go to a dentist named Laverne? Yeah. And didn't Laverne put an odd-shaped tooth, kind of yellow, into his bridge work? Yeah. So he smuggled the candy tooth out of Portugal and he never even knew it. Oh, well, it does not matter now. Oh, Herman is dead. Surely you, they will leave his poor broken body in peace. I doubted very much, Mrs. Julius. No, no, surely they will. That's why I want to make a request of you. You see, others have died besides your husband because of this thing. More will die unless you do as I ask you. Oh, to stop terror, any terror, I will do anything, Mr. Spade, anything you say. I told her what I wanted done and she agreed to do it. Then I started on my part of it. I called Gutman on the St. Mark and told him 11 at my apartment. Then I called Dom Constantino at the San Rafael. Hope and I got there around 1030. Go on in, Angel. This is where you live, Sam? Where I sleep. Must be lonely for you. Sorry, no vacancy. Sam, listen, there's so much I want to tell you about myself. I'm listening. Well, listen, just before the war started, I was engaged to marry a man named Chemidoff in London. The Russian? Yeah, Gutman mentioned him something about an old manuscript. Yeah, Chemidoff had stolen it. In India, it was very old and Chemidoff said that the information in it made it worth more than the Maltese Falcon. It was in Latin. How'd the fat man get this manuscript away from Chemidoff? So you double-crossed Chemidoff and took the manuscript to Gutman. Sam, before they get here, I've got to tell you something. No matter what happens, I want you to know this. Sure, sure, I know. Say it, Angel. Don't torture me, Sam. I'd like to hear it, Angel. I... Sam, I love you so much. It feels like hate. It feels like a... Go on, go on. Hate me, Angel. No, don't answer it, Sam. Relax, Angel. You'll be OK. Sam? Yeah? Only you, Sam. All I want are... Only you. Just stay on third, Angel. I'll bat you home safe. You see, sir, I have a punctual man. Come on in, Gutman. Look, the same apartment, the same colors, everything the same. Yeah, the same rat race, Carol. Hello, Marvin. Killed anybody since lunch? You want me to give it to you, Sam? Oh, please, please, Marvin, no unpleasant talk. Mr. Gutman, please tell Marvin... In here, gentlemen. Yes, yes, yes, Marvin. Mr. Spade, I'm sure, regrets the unfortunate... Well, in what have we here? You all know the lady? You see, Mr. Gutman, you see, I told you. Now he's dealing with her. Oh, this is... Shut up, you hear me? Shut up. Don't talk just like that. I'm jumpy. I don't feel good. I don't know why I'm... You shut up, too. Don't always fight in violence and prisoners. I'm getting too old for this. And now, Mr. Spade, to the business at hand. You have the tooth. I want some answers first. Did you have our dentist friend Laverne killed? No. Did Marvin kill Laverne? No. Cairo? No. Nobody killed Laverne. He died of old age. Have you asked the little lady there? Sam. I gotta ask you, baby. Oh, Sam, how could... Answer me. No, Sam. You know I didn't. Well, it doesn't matter. I got my pigeon pick to take the fall. Oh, I don't feel so good. Now, Marvin, retain yourself. No violence. Well, Sam, I... That's it. Sit still. I have a package from the Avalon Mortuary for Mr. Spade. Oh, hello, sir. Yeah, what's happening? Mrs. Julia said to tell you... Yeah, yeah, thanks. Well, Gutman, this is it. This little package. The candy tooth. The tooth! At last! Give it to me, sir. Give it to me. Oh, Mr. Gutman, it's all over. We've got it. We've got it. We have. Come, sir, no more TV. Uh-uh-uh-uh. Put those fat lunch hooks down before I chop them off. I rather thought it wasn't all. What now, sir? I told you there was another bidder. Why should not you reach for your gun, Mr. Spade? You're pointing that gun at the wrong belly. The fat man's inside. Mr. Gutman, Mr. Cairo, dumb Constantine of the Baganza of Portugal. Portugal, indeed. It's the Russian. Do not be so formal, hope my darling. You may call Mr. Gevanovich. Oh, let's get off the co-pack. We're all here. You see? You see? Mr. Spade, you are an unmitigated cancer. You are along. This man was an imposter. That was a namey-gaming. Well, what matter? There's enough for all. What you're so murgic, Mr. Spade, you'll please give me that package. Now, Marvin! Now! They both had their guns into each other at once, practically. Kamadov fired first, but Marvin didn't fall. He spit out his chewing gum... Then he squeezed the trigger of his .45. They both looked more surprised than anything else. But they were both very dead before they fell down. Marvin! Marvin, as dead as Kamadov. Oh, and it was worth it. You know, of course, it was he who killed Laverne. I told you I had my pigeon picked for the fall. My good man, you are a winner. Poor Marvin. He looks so dead. You can have the package now. Oh, yes, yes, yes. The tooth, the tooth. He seized the package with his fat little fingers. They were trembling so he could hardly undo the strings. He tore the outer wrappings, exposed a small metal jar. He looked at me and wrenched the lid off of it. He dumped the contents onto the table. The tooth, what is it? There's nothing here. Ashes. Ashes are ashes. That's it, Guttman. Ashes. The tooth is there, along with the rest of Herman Julius. He was cremated this afternoon. He was cremated. The tooth, it was cremated. No, this cannot be. No. But it is, it is the tooth. Oh, you idiot. Again you are the idiot. Why do I stay with him? Why, why? Well, well, come, come, come, Joe. Shall we stand here weeping and bemoaning a curious quirk of fate? Or shall we defy all fates? Were we not well underway to finding the Romanov scepter when this charming lady detoured us with her romantic notions? Come, come. What say you, Joel, eh? You mean we go to... Yes, yes, Joel, to Samarkand. Mr. Guttman, do not say it. He is listening. Ah, yes. A wise precaution. Then we go, eh? Yes, Mr. Guttman. Yes, we go. At you, Mr. Spade. Oh, sound. It's like the stage of the Old Vic at the final curtain of Hamlet. Alas, poor Marvin. I knew him well. Oh, well, many slip-picks the cup and the tooth. Now, let him go, Mr. Montgomery. I knew there was nothing on him that Dundee's boys could make stick. I thought twice before I let Dundee take Hope Laverne, but we both agreed it was the smart thing to do, and what do you suppose Effie said when I said? Period. And a report. Once you came out of hand, twenty thousand dollars. Oh, just think of the things we can do. Pay all the bills, the years went on the office. Had that awful old leather chair we upholstered and a new ribbon for my typewriter. Effie, uh, bought that typewriter ribbon. Well, maybe I can get along on this one for a while, but Sam, I do think we should get my mother's earrings out of Moise's pawn shop. Effie, I know this is going to be a terrible blow to you, but... Sam, what did you do with the twenty thousand dollars? I, uh, put it up for bail. Bail? Yeah. But that was the twenty thousand dollars, and your release so you get the money. It's very simple, Sam. You just go down and ask him for it. Effie, you see, you don't understand these things. Now bail is a very complex legal technicality. You see, you put up a bond and then you... Sam, how much was the bail for Hope Laverne? Yeah, that's what I mean, Angel. Oh, Sam, you're such a child. You'll never see her again. She was just, just using you. I'll take it, Effie. Hello. Angel. Hello, kitten. Sam, I'm free. I'll always be waiting for you, kitten. Me too. Kitten indeed. The A.T. kitten. What's that, Angel? Oh, forget it, Sam. I just get carried away. Can't figure me out, Angel. Well, I'll tell you. I've lived without faith, and I've lived without charity, but I've just got to have... About here's what I say. Oh, good night, Sam. Good night, sweetheart. This is Robert Montgomery. I'm sure our suspense audience agrees with me when I say that whenever it is, it can't be too soon to have Sam spade back with us again in a full-hour adventure on radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. Incidentally, our producer, editor, director on these weekly full-hours of suspense, Bill Spear, joins hands with Dashiell Hammett to bring you the adventures of Sam Spade each Sunday night on this network. Thanks for the plug, Bob. I have a basket full of thanks to my friend Howard Sam Duff, the kind of actor a director lights candles for, and the wonderful Lorraine Tuttle who plays Effie each week, and the Joseph Kearns, who is the Casper Guttman of them all, an ornament to your profession, Kathy Lewis, Wally Mayer, J. Novello, Janet Nolan, Jack Edwards Jr., Sidney Miller, Hans Conrad, and Bill Johnson. And of course, as always, to our musical director and conductor, Led Gluskin, and to the composer of our original scores, Lucian Morrowake. And our special thanks to Bob Tolman and Jason James, who wrote The Candy Tooth, and who were voted by their fellow mystery writers of America, the Edgar Allan Poe Award for Sam Spade, the best detective show on the air. And to the Wild Root Company, a gracious sponsor of Sam for this courtesy of the cooperation and making tonight's Spadery available. Now tell about next week, Bob. Next week we will bring you another great American master of suspense. The author of The Postman Always Rings Twice and Double Indemnity, James M. Cain. It's a full hour of Mr. Cain's very wonderful novel, Love's Lovely Counterfeit. This is Robert Montgomery, who will welcome you once again next week to Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. Suspense. Don't forget, next week at the same time, a full hour of Suspense. This is CBS, The Columbia Broadcasting System.