 be your style, you spitch, champ. Don't despair, use your head, save your hair, you spitch, champ. The Fitch Bandwagon presents Barry Sullivan as Private Detective Richard Rogue in Radio's hardest-hitting thriller show, Rogue's Gallery. Rogue speaking. I was in my office, leaning back in my chair, feet up on the desk, a cigarette dangling from my mouth. You see, I've read those popular edition thrillers, too, so I know the proper position for a private eye. Besides, it's very comfortable. Then she came in, one of those bustling, energetic, sweet, worried little ladies, the kind that runs church bazaars and anything else she can get her hands on. I stayed where I was, but I showed her I was a gentleman. I tipped my hat. Mr. Rogue? Yes? I'm Lorna Hoover. My husband is Chet Hoover, president of the Hoover Elephant Gun Company. I'm afraid he's crazy. I'm sure he is. What would an elephant want with a gun? I'm not joking. And I'm not a psychiatrist. I can't do anything about your husband's mental condition, Mrs. Hoover. That's not what I came about. It's not directly. What I want your help about is a kidnap. Ah, you begin to make sense. Who's been kidnapped? Nobody. Now you don't make sense again. But somebody's going to be. Oh, and you want me to prevent it? No. I want you to cause it. What? I want you to kidnap my niece, Claire. Ah, sorry, Mrs. Hoover, not interested. Mr. Rogue, Claire must get out of our house. She simply must. Well, why can't she just work out? Oh, because Chet would be curious. Look, Mrs. Hoover, suppose you give me the whole story, slowly and from the beginning. Well, Claire is my niece. Her mother may hear her soul rest in peace with my sister, my favorite sister. In fact, she was my only sister. Uh-huh. I had three brothers, but I like sisters better than brothers, so that's why I follow my favorite. Well, she died when Claire was just a baby, moved her soul rest, I could say. So Chet and I raised the child, just like she was our own daughter. Do you follow? Uh, I'm working at it. Go on. Like I said, we raised Claire like our own daughter. We gave her everything she could ask. Could anyone ask for more? Hardly, Mrs. Hoover, hardly. Exactly. And then last year, she married that awful Norman. He loped. Imagine, after all we've done for her, I was ill, positively ill. And Chet, he was wild, so you can hardly blame him for what he did, although I do anyway, because it isn't right. And besides, it's legal. Mrs. Hoover, whom can't you blame for doing what? Chet, for killing Norman. Oh. Of course I can't be sure, but just the same, I'm positive he did it. Oh, you're not sure, just positive. Yes, it's most stressing. Of course, if anyone ever deserved it, Norman did, but I'm certainly not going to just sit by now and let Chet kill Claire, too. Would you? Don't ask me, I don't know Claire. Well, what do I mean, Mr. Roman? What makes you think your husband killed Norman? Well, he didn't like him. Yes. And a few days ago, Norman disappeared. Uh-huh. Then I saw Chet hide a bottle of powder in his desk. I took some of it, had it analyzed. It was poison. Oh, I see. And right after Norman's disappearance, Chet up and fired his ballot and hired a new one. Like that? No notice or anything? Oh, so he did. And what exactly does that mean? Did Chet fire him, or did the ballot disappear too, because he knew too much? You certainly have a nice opinion of your husband. Oh, it's not Chet's fault. Like I told you, I think he's out of his mind, but he'll get over it. Knee deep in corpses. Well, he has been behaving most oddly, I will admit. And now he's acting strangely toward Claire. Oh, Mr. Rove, I'm afraid. I must get out of the house. I must. Have you called the police? Oh, of course not, Mr. Rove. Chet is my husband. I love him. Even if he does have the bad habit of feeding poison to his relatives from time to time. But, Mr. Rove, I don't know. For sure. Yes. Anyway, Norman's body hasn't been found. He's just missing. Besides, I don't want to alarm Claire. She's such a nervous child. Well, a good case of poisoning won't help her nerves, any. That's where you come in. I suggested she visit some friends, but Chet was furious. He won't let her out of the house. But if she were to be hidden... I told you, Mrs. Hoover, no dice. But she's in danger. Right. So I'll go out of the house and see what I can find out. And incidentally, I'll see that nothing happens to Claire. Well, if you think it's better that way... I do. Oh, yes, one more thing before we go. Yes. You'd better pay me in advance. Well, really, Mr. Rove? Yes, really, Mrs. Hoover. Because I may have to turn in your husband for murder. And if you love him as much as you say you do, I'd probably have trouble collecting them. Now that we're here, what are you going to do? First, I'd like to talk to your husband. Are you going to tell him who you are? Why not? Well, I don't want him to... I mean, well, if he thinks I suspect him... Oh, there's no need to. Your niece's husband disappears. Naturally, you're concerned. You hire an investigator to look for the missing man. That's all. Yes. I guess that's all right. Laura, is that you? Yes, Chet. Come, Mr. Rove. Chet is in the library. Right. Oh, dear. I do hope he won't be angry. Well, I hardly expect him to jump for joy. Oh, he doesn't jump. He's a good swimmer, though. Oh. In here. All right. Oh, visitor. Lorna, my little magpie, you didn't tell me. Chet, this is Mr. Rove. He's a private investigator. Oh, so he is. I've heard of him. How do you do, Rove? Hello, Hoover. I won't pretend I'm pleased to meet you. I'm married to a moron. Oh, Chet, and you might have consulted me before engaging Rove. I know, Chet, but, well, I've been worried about Norman's disappearance. Why? You never liked him? Well, for Claire's sake. The best thing for her sake is if he never shows, comes back. Oh. Rove smiles. I know what you're thinking, Rove. It's plausible. But you'll never be able to prove it. So why waste your time and our money? Oh, I've got lots of time. And I can use your money. Aha. A hard-boiled front. But behind it, I'm afraid, integrity and violent. Purity of purpose. Determination in the cause of justice. What are you getting at? You admit an interest in money, good. Lorna, my poor hummingbird has undoubtedly offered you a substantial chunk of the filthy stuff to get you to investigate. I'll pay you an equal amount, not to investigate. Sorry. I'll take her offer. It was right. Strange how a man who likes to think of himself as tough and smart will insist on doing things the hard way. Maybe so, but one thing I can't forget. I've got to live with myself for the rest of my life. Well, don't worry, Rogue. It may not be for long. And that's the first act of tonight's radio picture from Rogue's gallery. The F.W. Fitch Company is presenting Barry Sullivan as star of the new Sunday series bringing you the adventures of private detective Richard Rogue. According to a current survey made by Cosmopolitan magazine, over 61% of those interviewed said their number one hair problem is dandruff. You can lick this problem by using the new Fitch scalp massage brush combination available for a limited time in the United States only had a tremendous saving. Combination contains a rubber scalp massage brush, a six ounce bottle of Fitch's dandruff remover shampoo, and a six ounce Fitch's new quinoa hair tonic. The rubber scalp massage brush has 86 flexible fingers to stimulate the blood supply. Use it with Fitch shampoo for a reconditioning treatment that leaves hair and scalp clean, dandruff free. Fitch shampoo removes dandruff completely with the first application under a money-back guarantee. After and between shampoos, use Fitch's new quinoa hair tonic. Not sticky, not greasy. It's blended from five essential oils for perfect hair grooming. Get Fitch's scalp massage brush combination in a convenient carry-home package. At drug counters, $1.60 value, only 99 cents. It was like this. Lana Hoover hired me to protect her niece, Claire. Claire's husband had disappeared, and Lana had the cheerful idea that her own husband, Chet, had murdered the missing man. I was to see he didn't repeat on Claire. When I arrived to investigate, Chet did his best to make me feel as uncomfortable as winter underwear. Then he tossed a threat my way and walked out of a room. After he was gone, his wife turned to me and said, I'm afraid we've made a mistake, Mr. Rove. We shouldn't have told him that you were a detective. We should have said you were, well, a famous author or something. Which famous author? Oh, anyone. Okay. Edgar Allan Poe. I'm serious, Mr. Poe. Yeah, so am I. I'm not the type. Besides, I'd like to know the score, and from the way he acted, he has no... What's the matter? Look, there's someone behind those drinks. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Well, just a second, I'll... There he goes. He's in the hall. Wait a minute, you. Okay, Mr. This is far enough. Let... Let go. Not till I find out a few things. Well, here's something that's started. Okay, we play it rough then. Mr. Rove, be careful. Mr. Rove, you knocked him out. Down. Not out. All right, Mr. Get up. What's going on here? Good Lord. It's Wilson. What have you done to him? He was hiding behind the drapes while we were talking. Who is he? Wilson, my valid. Oh, valid, eh? New one or the old one? Where? Little Apple Blossom has told you a lot about me, hasn't she? Well, this is the new one. Wilson, what's the idea of snooping? I'm sorry, sir. That's hardly informative. I'm sorry, sir. And that's merely repetitious. You'll have to forgive, Wilson Rove. He's victim to that all too common malady, a minus IQ. He can tell us what he was doing behind those drapes. He's dropping. Of course, Rose Petter. He's dropping. Well, he can tell us why. I seriously doubt it. He refused to oblige us with the truth, and he's too dull to concoct a credible prevarication at short notice. Wait with you, Wilson. I'll talk to you later. Yes, sir. But understand, please. I take a very bad view of this intrusion. Very good, sir. Very bad. Now go. Yes, sir. I don't go for your taste in valet, Hoover. How many servants do you employ, Rogue? None. Well, there's your answer. One can't be too fussy these days. Where did you get them? Employment agency. Which? Why? Wanted. Star employment. Had excellent references. Yeah, probably wrote them himself. Probably. And now? Now what? That's what I want to know. I still can't buy you off, eh? They say every man has his price. Mm-hmm. What's yours? I'll ask my conscience. Well? It's spit in my eye. Hmm. I know I can't scare you off. Right. So it looks like you'll have to put up with me around here until I find what I want. I'm afraid so at that. Well, don't look so glum. I'm not such a bad company. If time hangs heavy, we'll discuss post-impressionism or metaphysical phenomena or dialectical materialism. Oh, I see you speak my language. But I prefer pinocchio. Excellent. We'll get along swimmingly. Swimmingly? That's good. You'd better keep an eye on your water wings. I may be forced to puncture them in spite of my regard for you. Thanks for the warning. Now, toodaloo, I'm going up to dress for dinner. Right. I'll see you later. Well, Mr. Yoke, what do you think? I don't like it. If he does plan to harm Claire, my being here may hurry him. Where is she now? In her room, I imagine. Oh, good. I want to see her as soon as I make a phone call. Say, do you have a phone book? This one under that table. Oh, yeah. Yeah, thanks. Who you would call? The Star Employment Agency. Let's see, yes. Let's start. Ah, here we are. I'd like to know a little more about your husband's new valet. He did behave strangely. Yeah, to put it mildly. Hello. I'd like a little information, please, about a man named Wilson. You placed him a few days ago with a Mr. Hoover. Chet Hoover. Uh-huh. What? What's that? You're sure? Oh, I see. Thanks. What did you say? I never heard of Wilson. And they haven't had any dealings with your husband for months. Oh, dear. Come on. Where? Claire. I'd like to talk to her while there's still time. Hey, dear. This is Mr. Rogue. How do you do? Hi. Mr. Rogue is going to help us find Norman. We don't need any help, Aunt Laura.