 Standard of California, on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West, invites you to let George do it. The father who had nothing to say, another adventure of George Valentine. Personal notice, dangers my stock and trade. If you perch behind the eight ball and can't see the clear call on me, George Valentine, write full details. Dear Mr. Valentine, for ten years now, since I was fourteen, I've lived with a secret. The fact that I'm the son of a murderer convicted for life. Now I'm going to take a step I know may threaten everything that means happiness to me. Still in all conscience, I must take it. And I can't think of anyone who can help me, except perhaps you. Suppose we talk this over as quickly as possible. It's only as possible so I can supply what you so blithely call, full details. Sign Ralph Lochner. Uh, Brooksy. Yes George? Without knowing any more about the young man and what he says in his letter, I think I'd like to knock myself out trying to help him. But aside from the startling fact that his father is a convicted murderer, he didn't say very much. Yeah, but the way he said it, Angel, take a step that threatens his happiness and he must take it in all conscience. That's a nice phrase in all conscience. Well, if things have worked out for him in the last ten years, why doesn't he leave well enough alone? Well, that's what we're going to find out, Brooksy. Oh, I suppose that means we're on our way. Could we do anything else? I mean, in all conscience? Mr. Valentine, some cynical people would say the best thing in the world happened to me when my father was convicted of killing that woman. Well, that's a sweet way of looking at it. Well, what did happen to me? I lived with my father in a basement room of an apartment hotel. He was a handyman there. Not very much to look forward to. Well, men have started much lower in life than that. But then my father suddenly becomes a front-paid sensation. The murder of Lillian Wayne. And I get put in an orphanage. That's that, you'd say. But it wasn't. Go on. Well, then all sorts of wonderful things happen to Harry Peterson's kid. That's me. Mr. and Mrs. Lochner adopt me. I get sent to the finest schools. My name's legally changed so that the secret is dead and buried. But you still can't forget your real father, can you? No, I... No, I can't, Miss Brooks. I can only think of him as a pathetic little man who did all he could for me. Not as a murderer. But you were only 14 then, Ralph. You naturally wouldn't want to think anything like that of your father. But the courts... No. Guilty. With a recommendation from Mercy. Well, he got a fair trial, didn't he? Yes. And I can appreciate how fair. You see, my foster father, Carl Lochner, let me choose whatever profession I wanted. The next month I'm going to be admitted to the bar. Yeah? Well, I've gone all through the records of my father's trial. The testimony of the witnesses. Yes, he... he got a very fair trial. Well, what's on your mind? What's this step you've got to take, the one you mentioned in your letter? Well, knowing something about the law, I've decided that damning is the evidence was against my father. Most of it was circumstantial. And he never did admit he killed that girl. But, well, if this is just a feeling you have in the case, it's 10 years old. Well, look, Ralph, you ought to know it's going to take something a lot more concrete than that to get past the receptionist at the DA. Yes, but at least I'll feel I've done all I can. Oh, son, is this Mr. Valentine, the gentleman you told me about? Oh, yes, father. And this is Miss Brooks. Oh, how do you do this? Dad, I told Valentine everything, and I hope you still don't feel that... No, Ralph, I thought it over. I think you're right. Well, frankly, Mr. Lochner, I don't know what good I can do. And digging around in the past always involves a risk. I mean, publicity. Yes, and my secret may not remain a secret. Father and I have been all through that. You can understand my anxiety, Mr. Valentine. Ralph's starting out in a career that holds a great deal of promise. He's engaged to Irene Masterson, a lovely girl from a fine family. If she has to find out that I'm a son of a murderer, then... Well, that's the way it'll have to be. You just do what you think is necessary, Mr. Valentine. Mr. Valentine, the warden told me you're going to try to prove I'm innocent. I want you to do nothing. Get out! Now, wait a minute, Peterson. I don't want you to reopen the case. You will not find anything different. Aren't you changing your tune after ten years? Not once did you admit you'll kill Lillian Wayne. You're the same. You stay out of this. And do not come back to see me again. Wait. Take it easy, Peterson. We still got a few minutes. You heard what I said. Yeah. I may as well tell you no matter how you feel about it, I'm going to find out the truth. Why do you do this when I tell you no? Your son wants it that way, Mr. Peterson. Ralph? Yeah. Look at me, Valentine. You see a very happy man. I don't believe it. Prison has been good to me. Here I learned to read and write. I'm in charge of the books and the library. Your life's complete, huh? Ten years ago I fixed it so my son gets everything I could never give to him. Now in the newspapers I read his marrying big society girl. He is happy. I am happy. When you poke your nose in, don't you like to see people happy? Oh, Peterson, let's stop kidding each other. You'd rather throw away a chance to get out of this place than to have people find out that Ralph Peterson and Ralph Lochner are one and the same. You don't know what you're talking about. Okay. Have it your way, Peterson. But if you didn't kill Lillian Wayne, it's my job to find out who did. And believe me, I'm going to give it a good try. Miss Brooks. Twelve good men and true decided that beyond any reasonable doubt Harry Peterson murdered Lillian Wayne. I know, Lieutenant, but George called up and asked me to come over and see if you have any additional information. Well, just what I gave you there. Copy what you want. Okay. It's all a matter of public record. Say, just a second, Miss Brooks, hold it. Is there something Valentine knows about this case that I don't know? I mean, just being a member of the police force. Oh, I couldn't tell you. The last time I heard from him, he was calling from the penitentiary after he saw Mr. Peterson. What? You mean he went all the way up there to... Another one of his hunches, huh? Hey, what's the name of this witness here, Lieutenant? You can read, Miss Brooks. But I tell you, there can't be anything to it. Five witnesses put Harry Peterson on the scene of the crime. His fingerprints were all over the table lamp that was used to knock her off. And what about motive, Lieutenant Riley? Well, to pull it delicately, Miss Brooks. This little shrimp gets a yen for Lillian Wayne, who's, by the way, a being a gorgeous model. She can't see him, he can't take no for an answer, and... Zowie. Very delicately put, Lieutenant. Well... Well, if it's as open as shot as all that, George will just come up with the answer you've got here. Well, of course, of course, there's only one answer. He's just wasting his... Oh, never mind. I'm just whistling in the dark. Yeah, Mr. Donnelly? Shh, not so loud. Huh? What's the matter? Look, Miss, did you ever have a baby? Oh, wrong question, huh? Well, anyway, come on in. But try to be quiet. Hey, what's this all about? Oh, it's the kid. The wife's out shopping. You should have seen the time I had getting her baby to sleep. Say, who are you, anyway? And how'd you know who I was? Look, where can we talk above a whisper? Oh, well, well, come on in. Okay, now what do you want? I'm just checking on exactly what happened to Lillian Wayne the day she was murdered. Who? Lillian Wayne. Yeah, yeah, I heard you. But why are you bringing that up? Look, who are you, mister? Just someone who's not so sure Harry Peterson killed Miss Wayne. I don't know anything about that. I told the police my story. Sure, I had a fight with Lillian, but that was all. And they let it go with that? They had to. I went down the elevator an hour before the chambermaid saw Peterson go into the apartment. Oh, what was the fight about? Just me waking up to find out what a sucker I was. Hey, translate that, will you? Well, I was a pretty sharp middleweight those days. Dame's a dime a dozen. But Lillian says she's only got eyes for me. I ain't like a school kid, I believe that. Oh, then you found out about the little black book. Yeah, but that I didn't know until later. Peterson's trial. All I knew then was that some guy was sending flowers to her every day from the flower shop around the corner. So we had a fight, and I guess I lost my temper. How badly did you lose it? Well, I guess I poked a one. Well, if it weren't for Peterson, then you would have been tagged for suspect number one. Don't remind me, pal. And for Pete's sake, don't let this get back to my wife. She don't know anything about me and Lillian. Oh, don't worry, Donnelly, I have to be good at keeping secrets. Oh, thanks. You don't know my wife's temper. If she ever found out, she'd knock my ears off. Now, Mr. Valentine, just who sent you to see me? I'm very busy. I have an elaborate floor wreath to make up. No one sent me, Mr. Jeffries. Your name just happens to be on the list of witnesses in the Lillian Wayne case. Oh. And Mike Donnelly mentioned that you own this floor shop near Lillian's apartment hotel. Mike Donnelly, that thug. I was hoping by now he had his head knocked off in the ring. Oh, my such unruly passions, Mr. Jeffries. Yes, what have you got against Mike? That man actually assaulted me in the corridor during the trial. Just because I told the truth. Which is? It was Donnelly who bought the flowers I was delivering to Miss Wayne that day. I keep a record of every transaction in my store. A very methodical man. That's very interesting. I don't know why I should have gotten so excited. The police cleared him of any connection with the murder. Yeah, yeah. That was hardly gratitude, was it, Mr. Jeffries? Oh, what do you mean? Well, it was mostly your testimony that placed Harry Peterson in the dead woman's apartment at the time of the murder. There was no question about that. It was Peterson who came to the door and accepted the flowers. But it seems stupid, doesn't it, when you have a corpse on your hand? Not at all. Peterson worked there. He knew that I'd have the manager let me in so I could place the flowers in the water. And something equally stupid, I mean, of hawing himself to be seen. Oh, he tried not to show himself, but he had to sign a receipt. That's when I got a glimpse of him. Oh, it was Peterson, all right. Receipt? Well, yes. That's right. You didn't mention a receipt in any of your court testimony. I assure you I had all I could do to answer the barrage of questions they kept throwing at me. I see. You said you were a methodical man, Mr. Jeffries. I guess you kept that little memento of the Wayne trial. Well, I probably have it in the envelope with the clippings of the trial somewhere in that desk drawer there. Uh-huh. Naturally, Peterson didn't sign his own name. He thought he was being smart, scribbling down a phony one. Larraby, as I remember. I see. Well, that's it, I guess. Uh, thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Jeffries. Don't mention it. Now maybe I can finish that floral ring. All right, George, let's have it. Why don't you give up so easily? I mean about the receipt. Just being cautious, Angel. But you said yourself it would be so conclusive, one way or the other, just comparing the handwriting with Peterson. Yeah, I know, Bruxy, but as I said, let's take it easy like. Jeffries is lying through his teeth, but I can't afford to scare him off until I find out why. You mean he actually framed poor Peterson? I'm sure of it. You see, Angel, Peterson couldn't possibly have signed that receipt. Huh? He didn't learn to read or write until after he was sent to prison. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. Meantime, here's some exciting and valuable news for today's car owners. Atlas Tire Engineers have produced a new tire that gives the softest ride you've ever had. Even when you're on the roughest roads, it's the Atlas Grip Safe Cushionaire, a kind of big brother to the famous Atlas Grip Safe Tire. 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And in effect, that's just what you're telling Ralph and his foster father, Carl Lochner, right now. It's as simple as that, gentlemen. I know Mr. Peterson didn't kill Lillian Wayne. I might even be able to prove it. But it would be a lot easier and a lot sureer. At first, I found out who the murderer really was. Why didn't that fool Jeffrey say something about a receipt? Of course my father could never have signed it. Remember as a kid how ashamed I was because he couldn't read or write. I know how you feel, Ralph. It was a terrible oversight. Oversight? 10 years of someone's life going just like that because some stupid florist forgets to mention a receipt? Well, Jeffrey's might have forgotten that little thing, but he was deliberately lying when he identified the man at the door as your father. Well, let's do something about it. Turn him over to the police. Hold it, will you, fella? They checked the truth out. It might like to be the lawyer for the prosecution. I'd seen it. What if he said he made an honest mistake? After all, there were other witnesses. What do you pose to do, Valentine? Well, I'd like to know why Jeffrey's put the finger on Mr. Peterson. Homie was trying to protect. Do you think he's at all suspicious? Oh, he's bound to be a little, but I tried to ease out of it. I'd feel a lot better if we had that receipt. Oh, it's safe enough. It's in the middle drawer of the desk back of his florist shop. I agree with your thinking, Valentine, but just the same, you're up against a pretty impossible job. The name Larabee is patently fictitious. And this is a murder that's 10 years old. Where do you start? With the obvious, Mr. Lochner. And I can't think of anyone more obvious than our ex-pugilist friend, Mike Donnelly. Best you miss proof. Did you ever see a kid like that always bawling? Your wife out shopping again, Mr. Donnelly? Yeah. Thursday night she's got a bingo game. Oh, excuse me a minute, huh? Okay. Yeah, that's better. Now we can go on talk. Well, you don't mind giving us your signature so we can compare it with the one on Mr. Jeffrey's receipt. I don't know why she doesn't mind. Fine. Here, here you are. Oh, thanks. Hey, uh, just what did that guy tell you about me anyway? Well, he said you ordered the flowers for Miss Wayne the day she was murdered. Oh, he did, huh? Go on, what else? And, uh, that you and he had a little fight in the courthouse during the trial. A little fight? Well, I nearly killed him. And I'll tell you why. Because it might interest you, Miss Brooks. Yes. Of course it makes me look like a dope, but here it is just the same. I knew he was getting flowers and presents from somebody. So why is the stall around downstairs to see who it was? I see. All I saw was Jeffery's delivered flowers. The owner of the flowery shop, myself, mind you, not one of the boys. Then it dawned on me. It's also beginning to dawn on me. Yeah. He was making time with Lillian, too. She admitted it. That's why we had the fight the afternoon she was killed. So there was room in Lillian's big generous heart for our Mr. Jeffery's as well. Yeah, among others. You know, Mr. Donnelly, I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't given me a lot more than your signature. Didn't I tell you not to come back? Look, Mr. Peterson, the man who killed Miss Wayne signed a receipt for some flowers. And you didn't learn how to write till you came here. That's true. Well, don't you see there's enough doubt now to get you another hearing? It's bound to come out that Ralph Lochner is your son. So how about working with me instead of against me? If I could only believe after all these years I could be together with my son again. I used to know he don't have to be ashamed of me. I'd do anything, Mr. Valentine, anything. Good. Now tell me, Mr. Peterson, just what did happen that day? It's true what all those people said. The chambermaid, the elevator boy, the others. I was in Miss Wayne's apartment. To fix the Venetian blinds, she called downstairs in the morning. Go on. I rang the bell. When she didn't answer, I used the pass key. And there she was on the floor, dead. Didn't know what to do. I picked up the lamp, put it back on the table and just stood there looking at her. And that's how your fingerprints got on the lamp. Now tell me, did Jeffries, the florist, make a delivery while you were there? No, nobody. When I made myself understand what happened to the lady, I ran downstairs to my room. I was sitting there when the police came. But Ralph, he was such a young boy then. He didn't understand what it meant when they took me away. You gotta find son, Peterson. Will it tell me, if they let me go, could I be with my Ralph again? Well, your son will be a lawyer soon. He'll think of something. I'll leave everything to you, Mr. Valentine. I have just one more stop to make when I get back to town, Mr. Peterson. And I'll feel a whole lot better when that's out of the way. Come on, quick, Brooks. He closed that door. We don't want the cop in the beat to spot the light back here. Oh, we'll just tell him we're a couple of flower lovers. What do you think of Donnelly's story about Jeffries being on Lillian Wayne's bandwagon, too? More about that, Angel. Right now, I want to get a picture of that receipt. If I can get Riley working on it without Jeffries getting suspicious... George, look! The desk! Hey, yeah. A very clumsy job. Oh. I would've jimmied open the door with much more finesse. It's only a formality, but let's see. Uh-huh. Yeah. Just about everything else on the Wayne trial but no receipt. Oh, I outsmarted myself, Brooks. He had missed the boat. Well, one sure thing, George. Jeffries wouldn't break into his own death. Why not if he wanted to make it appear that someone else stole that all-important piece of paper? If it meant so much to somebody, he probably destroyed it by now. Yeah, he... You know, Angel, maybe I didn't miss the boat after all. Maybe it just looked that way. It wasn't going out. It was coming in. Funny things don't look any rosier to me, darling. Well, that's because it's late. You're tired. You need some sleep. Oh, now, George, wait a minute. Now, uh, be careful when you get to the end of the alley. Be sure nobody sees you. Then grab a cab and I'll be in touch with you later. But what about you? I'll be going back to the office in a few minutes. I'm sure I'm gonna have a visitor. Now, scram. Hello, operator. I want you to call the police and report a burglary. Jeffries Flores Shop, 937 Grant Boulevard. Who, me? Oh, just put down a public-spirited citizen. Elephant isn't nature, boy. I was just about to give you up. You were in my shop tonight, weren't you? Oh, why don't you give up, Jeffries? You don't stand the chance of a deep freeze salesman in Siberia. You've just been lucky for 10 years. Where's that receipt, Valentine? What makes you so sure I've got it? You're the only one who knew where it was. Let's have it. Uh-uh. That's my lease on life. You think I'm joking, don't you? On the contrary. But I know you won't let that 38 in your hand go off until you find out what happened to that person. Don't be too sure about that. I have any time to waste on you. You're a many-sided character, my friend. It was a real shock when I found out that you were another one of the boys in Lillian Wayne's male harem. You're a liar. Liar? Now you're adding slander to perjury. Get up. Now put your hands up. If you have that receipt on you, I'm going to find it. Doesn't it ever make you sick to your stomach having to live with yourself? Shut up. Didn't you ever think of Peterson in the prison laundry or the jute mill while you were flouncing around up to your hips and flowers? It's got to be here somewhere. Get back. You're trapped, Jeffries. You're trapped. Peterson couldn't sign anything. He didn't know how to read or write. What? What was that? What did you say? I'm going to get a rise out of you. I'll kill you. You better drop it, Jeffries, if you want to use this argument. All right. Oh, what are you going to do? I was just wondering how to make you stay put while I make a couple of phone calls. You can't. Uh-huh. I think Harry Peterson would like it done this way. Yeah. Oh, your timing is perfect, Angel. The visiting. Oh, he's here, but he's out. Never mind. Sure, come on over. Join the party. Sure, there's calls for a party, Brooksy. Less than five minutes ago, I found out who really killed a fair Lillian. Valentine, I know it's probably just an oversight, but I've never been advised the homicide bureau has been moved over here to your office. Well, I thought we could clean this thing up faster over here, Lieutenant. I never killed that woman. And I'm not saying another word until you let me talk to my lawyer. You're going to need two lawyers, Jeffries. I need to interrupt this delightful discussion, but Mike Donnelly's in the outer office, fussing and fuming. George, it seems when you call him, you woke up his baby. Sorry, but he has the answers to a lot of questions that'll have to be asked. What right do you have to keep me here? What's the charge? There isn't any. That's why you won't let me get to my lawyer. Oh, so I have no charge to hold you on, huh? Well, forgetting about suspicion of murder, there's a little matter of perjury. Then there's illegal entry, forcing your way into a respectable case of business. Thank you, Lieutenant. Assulting battery on the same defenseless citizen. No charge, huh? Who are you? Hennessy! Take this mucky downtown. Yes, sir. You won't get a thing out of me, no matter what you do. And watch him, Hennessy. Now, Valentine, there's still a few questions I have to ask you. Oh, just a minute, Lieutenant. I think someone just came in the outer office. It's probably the Lochners, Brooksings. Valentine, what did you find out? I just saw them take Jeffries away. Wait, you got here as soon as we could. Just what has happened? This is Lieutenant Riley, gentlemen. Oh, how did he do that? We're just getting to that, Mr. Lochner. Hey, what about me, Valentine? OK, Donnelly, come on in. The wife's at a midnight movie. I had to get her neighbor to stay with the kid. Please, Valentine, what did you find out about Jeffries? The name of the murderer. What? Jeffries didn't have the receipt, and I didn't take it from his shop. Well, how does that tell you who the murderer was? Oh, the simple process of elimination, Lieutenant. I don't follow you, George. I told only two people where that receipt was. You, Ralph, and you, Mr. Lochner. I'm afraid I don't understand. Yes, what are you driving at, Valentine? Paying blackmail to Jeffries all these years, even adopting Harry Peterson's son, can't change one fact, can it, Mr. Lochner? You kill Lillian Wayne. Hey, hey, hey. Come on, Brooksie, come on. Get your head up off the Lieutenant's desk. Oh, I wasn't sleeping. Oh, no, no. You were just trying to see if you could look through your eyelids. Oh, come on, kids. I'm gonna have me a gallon of coffee. It's been a long night. Did you get a statement from Lochner and Jeffries? Yeah, yeah, it's all sewed up. Victim of circumstance. You keep reading that corny phrase, but you only appreciate it when you run up against a Harry Peterson. Oh, come on, Lieutenant. It wasn't just the hand of fate. It got a couple of assists. Yeah, yeah. Jeffries delivers some flowers to his girlfriend. The rat hangs around downstairs to see who his rival is. It turns out to be the wealthy Mr. Lochner. So Jeffries helps put Peterson away and then Blackmail's Lochner plenty for keeping quiet. You know, I was wondering, Lieutenant, what's that? Did it really ease Lochner's conscience adopting Peterson's kid? Ah, the longer I'm in this game, the less I know about people. I was wondering about something, too. I was wondering if poor Donnelly had much trouble. Getting his baby to sleep. Oh, you're punched, young angel. Let's get that coffee. Some folks claim that one motor oil is just like another, until a mechanic tells them they need a new set of piston rings. But folks who use RPM motor oil find piston ring troubles are few and far between. This premium quality motor oil is compounded to keep a cooling lubricant on upper cylinder walls at all times. Whether your car is standing cold for hours at a time or running hot, RPM clings to vertical engine parts, left bare and exposed to wear by ordinary oils. And because RPM is always on the job, your chances of engine trouble caused by rust are reduced to about zero. That's mighty important when you remember that hidden rust causes as much as 80% of engine wear in the average car. No wonder RPM motor oil is the choice of Western motorists two to one over any other motor oil. For trouble-free operation and longer car life, get RPM tomorrow at independent chevron gas stations and standard stations where they say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. Next week, when you tune our way for another adventure of George Valentine, you'll hear... Oh, uh, Bruxy. George, I've been worried about you. Where are you? Well, I, uh... Careful what you say, buddy. Yeah, see what you mean. Oh, uh, Bruxy, I just wanted to tell you not to worry if I'm away for a couple of days in this job. I know I can leave everything to you. George, something's wrong. I'm gonna call Lieutenant Riley. Yeah, yeah, that's fine. That's enough, Valentine. Hang up that phone if you know what's good for you. Yeah, I know, all right. Good night, Bruxy. I'll be seeing you. I hope. Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Let George do it stars Robert Bailey as George with Frances Robinson as Claire. Wally Mayer appears as Lieutenant Riley. Tonight's story was written by David Victor and Herbert Lovell Jr. and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast were Harry Lewis as Ralph, Herbert Butterfield as Lochner, Louis van Rooten as Peterson, Eddie Marr as Donnelly and Robert Jellison as Jefferies. The music is composed and conducted by Eddie Dunstetter, your announcer, John Heaston. Listen again next week, same time, same station too. Let George do it. This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.