 The Columbia Broadcasting System presents yours truly, Johnny Duller. The next half hour has its baggage packed to take a trip with America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator, Johnny Duller. At insurance investigation, he is just an expert. At making out his expense account, he is an absolute genius. Expense account submitted by special investigator, Johnny Duller, to Home Office, Oriental West Cargo Bonding Company, San Francisco. The following is an accounting of my expenditures during my investigation of delayed cargo aboard the SS Shanghai Wayfarer, or the case of the slow boat from China. Expense account, item one, $181.52. Plain fare from Hartford to San Francisco and answer to your urgent call. Expense account, item two, $3. Lunch on Fisherman's Wharf and answer to my stomach's urgent call. Item three, $1.20, cab fare to your office. Dollar, my name is Fundy. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you before. And may I say it's a pleasure meeting you. It's a rough trip. I'm glad it's over. Over? All right, it's just begun. Here, dollar, this is your plane ticket to Singapore. Singapore, hmm? You know, Fundy, I had a choice. Really? To come to San Francisco to see you or to take a case in Boston. A nice old lady on Beacon Hill clubbed her husband with an early American bed warmer. But no, rather than New England broil lobster, I'd rather have San Francisco crack crab. Now all of a sudden, Singapore. May I ask why? Yes, we've bonded against a delay, a $120,000 cargo over or tin aboard the Shanghai Wayfarer. The ship was due to sail from Singapore three weeks ago. Still out there, tied up in the Tanjong Pagardoc. What for delay? Muteness, mechanical or just plain mysterious? I'm afraid it's a little of each. We flew an expediter out there 10 days ago to see what he could do. All the satisfaction we've had from this man, Harrison, is a report that since his arrival, the Wayfarer's main shaft has burned out, the freshwater pumps have fouled up, and her steering machinery has gone on the fridge. You don't need an insurance investigator, you need a good plumber. Ha ha ha, well, maybe you're right. But anyhow, you'll find our man, Harrison, William Harrison, at the Crown Colony Hotel. He'll fill in the details. Dollar, you have only a matter of hours after you hit Singapore to get the Shanghai Wayfarer started on its way. I must impress upon you the fact that any delay after that will cost this company $2,500 a day. Well, all I can promise is the old college try. Times like this, I wish I'd gone to college. Well, anyway, I'm in the right sound to make my last night in the States a good one. A few drinks with the right gal at the top of the mark. A few rare steaks at Alfred's. A few dances to Freddie Martin's music at the St. Francis. A few moments alone in the arms. $2, that sounds mighty good. But your plane leaves in two hours. Two hours? Well, I guess I'll have to do without the drinks for dinner and the dancing. Spent a count on item four, $120. Lost in the course of teaching fellow passenger how to play poker. My mother warned me not to never to play cards with strangers on trains or steamships. I wish she'd included airplanes. You'd implied, Fundy, that the situation smelled. Well, you should have caught a whiff of the city, especially the native sections, through which I had to pass on my way to the Crown Colony Hotel. I found it on Anson Road. I found myself a room. I also found William Harrison's room. Didn't find Harrison. All I found was a calling card from my old friend Trouble. Whatever Harrison was, he didn't want to be. And he left a trail of broken furniture and blood to prove it. I searched the dresser. Shirt size, 14. Socks, nine. That meant Harrison was a small man. I went through the bathroom, shaving brush and toothbrush, still wet, indicating that he'd been there not too many hours before I arrived. Then I tried the wastebasket. In addition to one large glob of used chewing gum and empty cigarette package and some old fling eggs, I found a swizzle stick with a name on it. The Collier Key Bar. All that meant was that Harrison had a head cold and been trying to cure it with Singapore slings. But at least I knew where he'd been drinking. The Collier Key Bar looked out on the harbor and was dark enough inside to give a man a good excuse for drinking night caps at noon. Your pleasure, sir. Say, how are you on mixed drinks? Mixed drinks. Governor, if I don't know how to make them, I look them up in the book. If they ain't in the book, I fake them. Now, what about me? Straight bourbon. Right, your sir. Oh, hey, bartender. Yes, sir. Are you by any chance acquainted with an American named Harrison? Harrison, sir? Yeah. He arrived in Singapore about 10 days ago. Small man with a coldness head. Oh, Harrison, sure on him, right enough. He's been coming in every night with a chief engineer from one of the ships in Port. Oh, yeah? What ship is that? Well, the Shanghai Wayfarer, I think. Well, the Shanghai Wayfarer. What's this engineer's name? Eh, now, old arm, I ain't getting him into any trouble, am I? He's a nice chap, he is. A handsome tipper. This handsome? My governor, $20 American dollars. Why, compared to you, sir, Mr. Frank Moore is downright tight-fisted. Well, now that's it, ah, I've done it. Well, let Mr. Frank Moore's name slip right now. My Mrs. is right. For a little man, I've got a ruddy large man. Expense account, item five. Rich short fare to the Tanjung Pagar docks. 10 cents. Tip to Pony Boy, $1. The ships moored four and a half to the Shanghai Wayfarer, were busy stuffing the pungent treasures of the east into their deep steel pockets. The only sign of life aboard the Shanghai Wayfarer was the right hand of the burly gangway watch. It was holding a knife with a six-inch blade and slicing thin slivers off a plug that looked more like tar than tobacco. As a gangway watch, he might have been fine. But as a reception committee, he was no Elsa Maxwell. That's far enough, mate. There's nobody aboard, and there's nobody coming aboard. It's all right with me. All I want is a little information. Where can I find your chief engineer, Frank Moore? You've come to the wrong place. Try the icebox over at the Singapore Police. They've fished them out of the harbor this morning, stabbed to death. Oh? Any idea who did it? The whole in some dame he's been playing around with. No, I don't know her name. Have they got anything else? Listen, mate, my job is to guard the ship, not answer questions. OK, OK. Have it your way. A watch out for pirates. The British chief inspector, Singapore Police, gave me everything except an invitation to tea. But unfortunately, he never even heard of Harrison. He took me into the morgue, and a look at Frank Moore's body told me nothing I didn't already know. Aidman stabbed all right. And whoever had killed him had sunk him with a hole in one. As for his personal effects, his maritime union card confirmed the fact that he was indeed the chief engineer of the Shanghai Wayfarer. A stack of crisp American $20 bills in his wallet made me wonder whether he hadn't been picking up a little extra pin money for delaying the departure of his ship. And finally, a photograph that made me admire the late Mr. Moore's taste in women. Whoever it was that said, never the twain shall meet should have met her. She was half-cast and all woman. Her picture was inscribed of Frank Moore, yours forever, Chandra. From the inspector, I learned two more things. One, the fact that the police had already questioned and released her. And two, her business address, the Wardlow Bar on Melee Street. Say, young, you like to read nice sing-song girls? No. The only girl I want to hear sing songs is Dinah Shore. Go on, beat it, will you? Oh, hey, women. Yes, do I? Where's Chandra? Oh, she go across to Penang tonight. You buy any drink, we stay. We sit right over there. Come on, job, the gunner. Get up. Oh, come on, darling. I put you away home to say hi one night in your own coffin. Complete with stab wounds, no doubt. Why, you say that. Why, you ask for Chandra. I'm a stranger in town. I can't find the local chapter of the Lonely Hearts Club. So shall we find a quiet table? I don't know you. No, but you knew Frank Moore. That gives us something in common. Over there is one. Oh, is that it? Yeah. Come on. This doesn't sound like a very quiet table to me. In Singapore, you will learn whispers stand out in the quiet. They disappear in the noise. I'll bow to the wisdom of the native guide. But who said I had any secrets? You talk about Frank Moore, shall I know if you do not have secrets to give, there must be secrets you like to learn. But I tell the police everything I know which is nothing. No, you are disappointed in me. No, no, none of all. You make good scenery. And I'll bet there's quite a story that goes with you. You'll find me interesting. I'm a man. Why do you come to me? Well, there were two places I could go for what I'm after. And you're much prettier than the SS Shanghai Wayfarer. I'm looking for a lead and a man named Harris. You're a murdered friend Frank Moore to him, so as big as you know him. You are wrong. I do not know him. I do not even know you. Oh, well, that's soon fixed. My name is Johnny Duller. Your name is nice. Especially the, uh, stalloport, huh? You are very droll, but I see when you make this joke there is no smile on your face. You are worried about your friend Mr. Harrison? Yeah, that's right. Maybe he was lonely tonight. Maybe he does not want you to find him. Ah, you certainly make me feel much better. How about a drink? I never drink before midnight. All right, then I'll wait. We'll have one then. All right, Johnny. But we don't have it here. We go to my house. There it is cool on the river, and there it is quiet. So we do not have to whisper. Midnight must have been invented for Singapore, and her house must have been invented for midnight. Only one thing looked out of place. Up on the wall was a souvenir of Chandra's war effort, a real American baseball bat, a Louisville slugger. An honor was written, remember the U.S. Marines. Everything else in the place was soft, the lights, cushions, Chandra. It is nicer to drink here, no. Yeah, may I say it's a might intoxicating without a drink. I wish the boys back in my high school senior class could see me now. What do you mean? In the graduation annual, they predicted I'd be a bookkeeper. Oh, I do not understand you. And neither did the boys in my senior class. Johnny, please say things I can understand. I want to know you better. Maybe if I stop talking all together, you'll get to know me better. I stopped talking, but I didn't stop thinking. When I'd mentioned Harris and Chandra earlier, she said maybe he was lonely tonight. If she didn't know him or anything about him, I wondered how she knew that he was missing tonight and not for a couple of days, or maybe even longer. Besides, the boyfriends of women like her don't keep secrets. I still assume that if Frank Moore had known Harrison, Chandra had known Harrison. I also assumed that she'd spidered me into her parlor for purposes other than social. And that notion was seconded soon after I had it, when somebody kicked the door open. Yes, it's your journey, darling. The two boys in the door were not from Western Union. And ugly as they were, Chandra left my side to join them, which made me think that maybe my senior class had been right. Looking at that trio's six eyes and two guns glaring at me, I wished I was a bookkeeper. In just a moment, we'll return to the second act of yours truly, Johnny Duller. But first, here it is almost the end of February. All over the country, people are thinking about their new car. All but one man. And he remains quite content with his old automobile and wearing apparel. An ancient Maxwell and a well-worn toupee. For these reasons and for several others, named Mary, Dennis, Don, Phil, and Rochester, he now has the number one comedy show in America. All over the country, people think about him too, every Sunday night. Here, the Jack Benny show with Claude Reigns as Jack's special guest next Sunday on all these same CBS network stations. And now, back to yours truly, Johnny Duller. Described from left to right, we're a fat man with three chins and a bald dome. And with him, a punk with a sneer and arms that were too long for the rest of him. A gun muscled me into a chair and started making anything with sense. Well, well, son of my dear. We had at last face to face with the mysterious stranger, Johnny Duller. Oh, don't kill the suspense and tell me why. He knows why. He came to the world low bar. He knew about Frank Moore and he was looking for the other one Harrison. That is why I phoned you. Well, it would seem then that this unfortunate chain of events is nearing the final link. Yeah, this guy uses his head better than Harrison did. Well, Duller? I'm using my head right now. Blend it, blend it. So doing, you may well prevent Harrison's death as well as your own. Oh, well, that's better than nothing. But is that all you can offer? Skip the bargaining rust line. It takes too much time. Quiet, Corgi. At times when money is cheaper than the results of your kind of blind violence. Well, Duller, you do have a price. Take a tip from my last name. Don't start bidding. I tell you, you're nuts, Ruslan. You aren't sure he knows where it is. He must know. He was looking for Harrison. They both know. You be quiet, both of you. 500 pounds English dollar. Where is it? At times like this, I keep my mouth shut and my ears open. 750. Surely, Duller, since you've entered the situation at such a late date, that is profit enough. Oh, I'm a man of expensive taste. I've always aspired to such things as $200 cigarette lighters. Go ahead. Keep spitting out that wise talk that you'll be spitting out teeth. How'd you like to go swimming with your hands and feet tied? I could bite my tongue. Oh, not to a chat, Corgi, my boy. This man is worthless, dead. Perhaps, Duller, we can induce you to talk in much the same way as we could prepare a parrot by... slitting the tongue. You know, Roslyn, your mother must have been scared by Sydney Green Street. Why, you... Either this guy is nuts or he doesn't know anything. What I know would fill a police blotter. Corgi, you know nothing of psychology, my boy. What this man is attempting to pass off as a show of bravery is based purely on the knowledge that he is, momentarily at least of some considerable value to us alive. Now, Duller, be careful. Before you make your final decision, bear in mind you've heard our final offer. Now, sir, what shall it be? I was a squirrel. A squirrel said to the little girl when she asked him what he wanted for Christmas. Nuts. They will know that. Corgi. Thanks. He finally came to, in the dark, trust up like a turkey and lay there trying to figure it out. Obviously, the two rude dudes thought I knew something I didn't know. But what I did know was that finding Harrison had turned into a big, fat headache. Also, that I had accomplished exactly nothing towards speeding the SS Shanghai Wayfare over the bounding main. While I was comforting myself by repeating over and over that old insurance company, Soother, never say die, I discovered I wasn't alone. Hello. You, who are you? You were here first, you tell me. Well, my name is Harrison. Harrison? Yes, who are you? I'm Johnny Duller. I was sent out here by the Oriental West cargo bonding company. Oriental West? Yes, I was supposed to do what you couldn't get done. And look at me now. Getting hit over the head and dumped in here must be par for the course. How long you been here and why? I've been driving myself crazy trying to figure that out. Well, this little guest house, wherever we are, must only have one set of proprietors. I can tell you who they are, at least when their names are using tonight, Rosalyn and Corky. They offer me 750 English pounds to tell them where something called it was. What is it? What's a package? What's in it? I don't know. It belonged to the chief engineer of the Shanghai Wayfare, Frank Moore. He was helping me try to get the ship on its way and I owed him a favor. He asked me to drop this package at a bar, the. The Warlow bar, yeah, go ahead. That's right. I was supposed to give it to a girl named Chandra. She wasn't there, so I got her address and went out to her place. You mean that package is at Chandra's house? Yes. When I got out there, the Chinese made let me in. I waited as long as I could, and then rather than leave what might be a valuable package just lying around loose, I put it into the bottom drawer of a dresser and left. Oh, great. For such things, I go around laying down my life. It's obvious that these men will stop at nothing to get their hands on that package. Well, when they asked you where it was, why didn't you tell them? Then neither one of us would be here. What's more, I'm beginning to think the sooner they get the package, the sooner our ship sails. Frank Moore has been a good friend to me. He wanted Chandra to have it, and I couldn't just turn it over to those two. Well, I've got some news for you. And this should make you really unhappy. Those two happened to be in business with Chandra. They're on the same team. She's one of them. What an idiot I've been. Well, here we are all roped up. You know, for a pair of guys who came out here to speed a shipload of raw tin on its way, we're doing just dandy. We're lucky if we gather this thing alive. Offhand, I'd say our host probably murdered Frank Moore trying to get that package. Maybe we're next. Oh, maybe right now. A beam from a powerful flashlight stabbed us in the eyes. The sudden change from too much dark to too much light kept us blinded. Well, look who's here. At least the voice behind the glare wasn't Rosalinds and it wasn't Corgis. But it was a familiar voice, one I'd heard and heard lately. He walked in on us, the flash in one hand and in the other, a knife with a six inch blade. At first I wondered whether it was the one that had been buried in Frank Moore's bank. And then I remembered when I'd seen it before. The man bending over us was the burly gangway watch from the Shanghai Waffer. And you told me to watch out for pirates. Well, this situation is getting a little overtrouted. I didn't think there was room for any more. What do you want? You know what I want, darling. The same thing Rosalind and Corgis are ripping your hotel room apart for right now. Now don't tell me you're looking for it, too. Two things I know about that package, Mr. The name is Roark. OK, Roark. One thing I know is that it's dangerous company. The other is I want no part of it. The only thing I'm interested in is getting the Shanghai Waffer out of port. That won't be hard once I get that package. Where is it, darling? I'll trade the answer to that question for a little freedom. OK, hold still. Oh, sir. Thanks. Harrison's next. I want him with us in case he's lying. All right. OK, Harrison, roll over. Hey, you! When Roark bent over Harrison, I dropped a flashlight out of his hand, ran across the darkened room, threw the open door, and kept on running. Sometimes the long way around is the shortest way home, so I headed for Chandra's house. I not only had some getting even to do, but I had some curiosity to satisfy. Somehow the Shanghai Waffer's failure to sail on schedule was tied up with a mysterious package. But how? Why? I decided I'd earn the right to see what was in that package. She'll be lonely. I heard your playmates are over making themselves a home in my room. So I thought you and I could have a little chat. Maybe I've got a surprise for you. What, Johnny? I think I know where that package is. Johnny, you gave that package. We both don't worry for the rest of our lives. But we must hurry before Rosalind and Corgi come back. We go now. OK, where's your bedroom? Johnny, what do you mean? Oh, come on, where is it? Come, I'll show you. There's another one now. It's been here all the time. And now while I open this thing, you can go and have yourself a nervous breakdown. This is more fun than unwrapping Christmas presents. And now I take off the cover. Wow! Now I know how the winter feels on hit the jackpot. The package was paper all the way through, brown wrapping on the outside and green spending on the inside. Big bundles of fresh, clean American 20s. Thousands of the same kind of bills that the Singapore police had found in the late Frank Moore's wallet. It would have taken half a day to count it, and I'd wasted too much time already. There'll be no good to you without me, Johnny. You have to know how to get rid of them. Oh, color fit, huh? Yes, they are made in China. Frank Moore brought them from Shanghai to Roslin to take to the States, but Roslin was not here in Singapore. He was late, so Frank had to make some accident happen to his ship to keep it from sailing. But then he changed his mind. He decided he would give the money himself, but Roslin caught up with him. Oh, I see. He was sending them to you by way of Harrison just before he was knifed by Roslin, huh? Who talked him into that? You, by any chance? You and I could be very rich, Johnny. You never give up, do you? It's $500,000 there. Mm-hmm. Yeah, that should buy about 50 years in jail. I'm taking this down to customs and you're with it. No, I do not think you do. Uh-huh. Time to play another visiting team. Come on, beautiful. I know what you went away. Is it worth me asking? I grabbed her, lashed her wrists with a cord from the package, and since she liked money so much, I stuffed her mouth with a fistful of those troublesome $20 bills. I locked her and the rest of the loot into a closet, dashed into the other room looking for a weapon. And then I remembered that Louisville slugger from the US Marines. I was glad they'd landed. I grabbed it off the wall, got a toehold in the carpet on the left side of that door, wrapped my fingers around the bat, swung it in the back of my shoulder, and waited. Under my tail, we just came out. Two outs and one to go. Three outs and the side is retired. What a ball game. First, I take her guns, and now we sit and wait for you to wake up. I'll take over from here on in dollars. Oh, I don't know about that, Roark. I happen to be the guy who has the gun. Oh, well, here. Take a look at this. What's in your wallet that I want to look at? More hot 20s? I'm not taking my eyes off you, Roark. OK, I'll turn around with my hands up, and then you can look at it. OK, fair enough. But if you so much as move, I'll start shooting. That's the deal. It's a fine time to learn this. Are you satisfied? John Joseph Roark. US Treasury Department. Come on in. I'm sorry I couldn't come out into the open before, darling, but I was too close to the payoff of this case to take any chances. Well, you know, I'm beginning to think that just being in this town is taking chances. That counterfeit's been funneling through this port on its way from China for months. We had Moore staked out for a long time, but this is the first shot we had at the top. That's him lying there on the floor, Rosalind. Now I've got him. Oh, your pal Harrison told me where I can find the only other thing I need, that package of hot money in the dresser drawer. Oh, it's now moved into the bedroom closet, along with a package of hot woman. Well, then, darling, it looks like my job out here is just about done. Yeah, I guess so. Hey, what a man. You're from the Treasury Department. Well, and after you get all these birds into their cages, how about helping me make out my income tax? Expense account, item six. Hotel bill, one night in Singapore, $5. Item seven, one new outfit, replacing mine, which was ruined in course of taking midnight dip in Singapore River, $200. Item eight, $20. Bar checks for cheering up one William Harrison, your expediter, whose innocence had him running errands for the man who was holding up the departure of your ship. Item nine, $375. Spent while killing time until the departure of my plane back to the States, after the Shanghai Wayfarer finally sailed. You see, this time I had four hours on my hands instead of the two you allowed me in San Francisco. Expense account total, $1,407. Signed, yours truly, Johnny Dollar. In just a moment, we'll tell you about next week's Johnny Dollar adventure. But first, for more exciting drama in the mystery and adventure line, remember CBS two thrill-packed Saturday night shows, the adventures of Philip Marlowe and gangbusters. Be sure to hear Philip Marlowe and gangbusters tomorrow night on most of these same CBS network stations. Next week, CBS will take you adventuring with Johnny Dollar, hitting the hotspots in Palm Beach and the Orleans, with the star of Hades Diamond on a trip all points south. Charles Russell plays the role of Johnny. Our music is composed and conducted by Mark Warner. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, is written by Paul Dudley and Gil Dowd, and is produced and directed by Richard Sanville for CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.