 The Adventures of Sam Spade Detective, brought to you by Wild Root Creme Oil Hair Tonic. An unalcoholic hair tonic that contains ladle-in. Wild Root Creme Oil, again and again, the choice of men and women and children, too. One of you. You know, sometimes I think I can tell what you're thinking. That's an invasion of my privacy. Oh, when two people are as close as you and I, I think that often you can almost read one another's mind. Well, you may be right. I can see what you're doing all the way from here, with the races, pilp and stationery, fil- Mother, when there's nothing else to do around the office? Besides making unit phone calls and charging them to me, you've tapped the petty cash drawer for lunch money. Hey, we are, sweetheart. I'll be down in my unlimited generosity with your back salary. Really, Sam? And two tickets for us to go to the fight tonight, and the vivid report on the prodigal daughter. Detective fiction writer and creator of Sam Spade, the heart-boiled private eye, and William Spear, radio's outstanding producer, director of mystery and crime drama, join their talents to make your hair stand on end, with the adventures of Sam Spade. Here's a wild root cream oil. Here's a smart resolution to make, first day back on the job after your summer vacation. From now on, every single day, I'm going to pay special attention to the way I look. I'm going to use wild root cream oil hair tonic. Yes, folks, smart's the word for that resolution, for wild root cream oil grooms your hair neatly and naturally, relieves dryness and removes loose dandruff. It helps give you that successful look that's so important to getting ahead. So, if you've never tried wild root cream oil, get the 25 cent get acquainted bottle. Wild root cream oil hair tonic, again and again, the choice of men and women and children, too. And now, with Howard Dove starring as Spade, wild root brings to the air the greatest private detective of them all, in the adventures of Sam Spade. Come on, come on, bring your book. Got a pencil? We gotta hurry if we're gonna make the fight, you know. Well, I've got one of the new retractor kind of pencil. Well, get the lead out. Are you really going off the post, Sam? It's Mam Mam McShelly versus Clark Face Duffy in the main event. Ready? McShelly, what? You've been out with somebody else, a military man. Well, how did you ever know? Date, August 2, 8, 1, 9, 4, 9. I don't know whether we'll go out or not. You're clairvoyant. To Dr. Albert Kensington from Samuel Spade. I only had a coke with him, Sam. He was on frill-o and we... License number 137-596, subject... And he was from Elkhart, Indiana. And I used to live in Pleasant Lake and... Down! Subject Helen Scully of the prodigal daughter. A coke yet. Dear doctor. Everyone in San Francisco knows the castle-type hillhouse that Casper Scully lived in, even if they didn't know him. When I got there, there was an all-black 49 convertible in the driveway and, slightly smaller, same color, a Russian wolfhound wearing a spiked collar and an expression of magic. He broke his chain when he saw me and ran in the back of the house. That should have told me something, but I plunged the doorbell and was admitted by a butler named Stanley who left me standing in a draft in the library looking at a cold television set. I pulled up my coat collar. It's like a plant in front of the fireplace and with a cigarette. Pretty soon, things started. A blonde girl in a yellow suit was having a one-sided argument with a gray-haired man in a gray suit. Nobody paid any attention to me. Stop about how you forbid it and it can't go on. Well, let me tell you it can go on. Just as long as I want it to. And there's nothing you can do about it, so don't whatever you do try to interfere. Oh, stop. He didn't say anything. I saw them walk around the garden once, shake fists at each other and finally part. He disappeared up a narrow stairway and she came storming back through the library. Who are you? How do you do? Who are you? Sam Spade. What are you doing here? Waiting to talk to Mr. Scully. Well, I just talked to him and he isn't very nice. Let me tell you that. Yes, but I... He's a nasty, stubborn, bullheaded old man and you won't like him. Oh, yes, but... Nobody likes him. Go back where you came from, whatever your name is. I'm the nicest person. You'll meet around this place. Yes, but... Don't wait around. Oh, goodbye. But I did wait around, Dr. Kensington, and I did talk to Mr. Scully when you came in the room with him. Only Mr. Scully did not talk to me. He glared at me through black smoldering eyes, sniffed the air, frowned at my cigarette. I frowned back. Mr. Spade, I'm Dr. Kensington. I wrote you the letter. This is Mr. Scully. Oh, please, the cigarette. Mr. Scully suffered a severe accident many years ago that affected his throat and his respiratory tract. He smoked. Of course, I understand, Dr. Sorry, Mr. Scully, I... Yes, thank you, Spade. This is not generally known, but the unfortunate accident in the chemical plant also robbed Mr. Scully of his vocal power. I see. Yes, the modern doctor, the position of today is a far cry from the general practitioner of yesteryear. Today, we must know the mind, the psychological quirks, the, uh... Well, he must follow through completely on the case. Sometimes, as I am today, a carthadon, an executive officer for his patients. He is, uh... Well, a friend, to say the least, eh? Oh, yes, yes, to say the least. Eh? Oh, of course, Mr. Scully, to the point, of course. Uh, sit down, Spade. Oh, thank you. Now then, Mr. Scully, as you well know, the world knows, has made several fortunes in his lifetime. And he didn't accomplish this by allowing people to run rough shadows. But, Mr. Scully, I'm just backgrounding Mr. Spade. Please be patient. Uh, Mr. Scully intends leaving his daughter Helen his entire fortune, a great deal of money, to say the least. Say the least, but Helen doesn't care about the money. She's foolish, young, headstrong, and impetuous. Eh? I heard her arguing with Mr. Scully a bit out of there. Now, now, now, Mr. Scully, we'll straighten all this out. Mr. Spade will help us. Well, then, Spade, you have half the problem right there. She is a headstrong, impetuous girl. And, uh, lately, she's done several things to displease her father. Right, Mr. Scully? Well, you see, Mr. Spade? Well, I gather that much, but what kind of thing? Helen's been singing in a cheap nightclub called the Blue Goose. What? Oh, it's very embarrassing. Low-class, eh? Yes. There's a man named Torpy. He owns the club. A man named Chick Torpy? Ah, you know of him? I've heard of him. Contrary to all her father's wishes, Helen insists on seeing this man Torpy. How old is she? Well, that's beside the point, Mr. Spade. But a sordid affair now might rob her of a future of wealth and security. Mr. Scully's at the point of exasperation. He might well change his will over this matter. Uh, correct, Mr. Scully? At best, this is an embarrassing situation, and most indiscreet of Helen do have brought it about. So, uh, I'm supposed to go talk to Chick Torpy, is that it? In a word, yes. Mm-hmm. Well, you sound rather reluctant, Mr. Spade. Chick Torpy's a little too old for the boy scout. Well, I... We want you to see him. Find out how much you'll take to stop seeing Helen. Tell me, what happens if Torpy isn't for sale? Oh, everyone has a price, Mr. Spade, matter of character. You get paid for work like this, that's your price. Yeah, that reminds me, 50 a day, and expenses five days' guarantee to say the least. Of course, say the least. And, uh, Mr. Scully, I happen to have a standard clients contract with me here. If you'll just sign on both pages, I'm... Uh, never mind, Spade, not now. Mr. Scully will mail it to you later on today. Ah, dear, Mr. Scully's fatigued. Well, you contact me as soon as you have any information for us. I said I would. Mr. Scully sounded a final cough, and I left the two of you in the library. It was interesting, meeting this voiceless tycoon who must have made and broken many a man with a knot of his head or a shrug of his shoulders. The same black dog with the same spiked collar was still outside the house doing the same thing. Ah, Spade! Mr. Spade? But, uh, something new had been added. A pair of well-tailored shoulders, diamond-sticked pen, and a gray-felt hat with a snap trim. Hello, Spade. You, uh, don't know me. Uh, now, now, wait a minute. There's something about a guy in a line-up. Uh, you're a dapper, Danny Cavillow. When did you get out of Folsom, Danny? Oh, a while back. They gave me a kind of, uh, rain check. Mm-hmm. Wasn't that 38 make you a parole breaker? Oh, uh, is that showing? Unless your ribs grow in different directions. Sam, I'm here to save you a lot of trouble. Uh, what trouble are you here to save me? You want to see Chick Torpy, don't you? You've got business to talk with him, no? No one gets around fast, Danny. No. No, it's just that Chick had been expecting somebody like you from the old man, and, well, I'm here to see that you see him. So, uh, why don't you kind of get in the car? And I, uh, kind of did. Danny smiled, lit a cigarette, shifted his shoulder holster so he could shift gears better, and drove me back across town to an apartment house on the south, the metropolitan. A good-looking guy who stood about six feet four, black hair, and answered the knock. Hello, Chick. May I present Sam Spade? Sam Spade, meet Chick Torpy. That'll do it, Danny. Thanks. Hello, Spade. Come on in. See you, gentlemen. Hello, Chick. Your taxi service always free? Just when I'm in a hurry to get things settled, soldier. You saw the old man today, huh? I, uh, saw him and talked to his doctor, Kensington. All right. You're here to tell me how worried the old man is, right? If you're talking about Helen and you, yes. You're a bad company. Yeah. What else? He wants you to stop seeing her. Well, suppose I don't want to stop seeing her. Suppose I told you I love her. Let's see. She comes in a $3 million box when he kicks. You love her. I'd be crazy if I didn't. I wonder what she'd say if she heard you say that. Why don't you ask her, Spade? Helen. Hello, Mr. Spade. Told you to leave my house today, but you didn't listen. Then Spade? Well, I'm wondering, anyway. When you get back to my father, tell him I think chick would be a fool to brush me off. Tell him that someday I expect to inherit all of that wonderful money he's spent a lifetime making. Tell him that chick's tired of working. Got all that? Yep. How do you feel, Spade? Like I'm earning my fee. Oh, you've already earned it, Spade. There's no use crying. I've told him myself, now you can tell him. She's not for sale and I'm not for sale. Got it? You got it. All right, then you're finished here. Well, I'm not sure I want to talk to him. Give him a pill. And it was on that happy note, Doctor, that I went downstairs, found a drugstore and tried to phone you and tell you what Torpy had said. Your line was busy and while I was waiting for it to get un-busy, I spotted Chick Torpy out in front. He looked madder than when I'd left him and there was a bulge in his coat that hadn't been there before. He got into a black sedan near the curb and I hailed a cab and followed him across town up the Knob Hill. A half a block from the Scully residence, I left my taxi and took the rest on foot. He was still a couple of hundred feet ahead of me as he disappeared into the garden entrance. I heard a cry for help and then... Chick was standing over something on the ground. When he saw me, he streaked for a break in the hedge. I stopped long enough to have a look at the body he'd left. My client, he still had gray hair and he was still wearing the gray suit. A half a space has been shot away. The makers of Wild Root Cream Oil are presenting the weekly Sunday adventure of Dashel Hammett's famous private detective, Sam Spade. Remember, non-alcoholic Wild Root Cream Oil contains lanolin. It grooms the hair naturally, relieves dryness, and removes loose, ugly dandruff. So if you want your hair to be more attractive than ever before, get the generous new 25-cent size of Wild Root Cream Oil. America's leading hair tonic, on sale at all drug and toilet goods counters. It's also available in larger economy bottles and the handy new tube. By the way, smart girls use Wild Root Cream Oil too when others say it's grand for training children's hair. Get Wild Root Cream Oil again and again the choice of men and women and children too. Go back to the prodigal daughter caper, tonight's adventure with Sam Spade. Today's contract arrived in the morning mail signed by Casper Scully. The headlines were no surprise. Chick Torpy sought in shooting of multi-millionaire. Item. Ballistics matched up slugs taken from body with weapon owned and licensed to one chick Torpy. And item. Because of a city ordinance regarding dispossession, the body of Casper Scully, found off the immediate premises of his home, had been removed to the city morgue and would remain there until claimed by nearest of kin. Hi, boys. Good to look on you. Hello, Maxi. What brings you, Sam? Scully stiff. Oh, yeah, yeah, checked him back in. Autopsy. Were you in with this, Sam? Do you know Scully? I just met him yesterday. Well, like I say to you before, you do collect queer ones, eh, Sam? Oh, such a mess. Whoo-hoo! Such a mess. Yeah, I know. I found him. They tell me he has to be claimed. City ordinance, Sam, nearest of kin. Don't be his daughter, Helen. She called, or anything? No, not yet. But to get back to him, a real queer one, maybe the tops this season. How so? Barbarianism, Sam. That's what it is. The world is moving backwards. You can get deader than dead. Huh? You'd think the slugs in his chest would be enough, but no. Four also in the head, too. Kill him twice. Say it again, Maxi. You mean the... Twice, twice, Sam. In the chest, maybe 20 to 30 hours ago. In the head, maybe 12 hours later. You see what I mean? I didn't like what I saw, but things did begin to make some sense. When the morgue I found the chronicle of us confirmed that Scully did suffer from a throat ailment, was publicity shy, was never interviewed or photographed for that reason. I asked them if they had a specimen of his handwriting by any chance. And they did. I had it sent to me by a special messenger and a signature compared to the one of my five-day contract with Mr. Scully, made interesting reading. But what was even more interesting was the DOA. Maxi was ushering in. As I was saying, Sam, it's awful the way these homicides are turning up nowadays. In gray suits, it's fashionable now. Hey. What's the matter, Sam? You know him? Yeah, I know him. What's it say? Cotek says unidentified accidental drowning. Found off Pier 14, time 8.15 this a.m. Accidental drowning. You don't think so? Why do you think he's dead? I think he's dead because he didn't cough when the doctor asked him to. I left Maxi to his newest customer and looked up the police officer who had found the unidentified man. All I had on him was New York clothing labels and a silver identification bracelet with name Julio engraved on it between two small indentations of the comedy tragedy drama masks. It wasn't much, but it took me to a theater on Post Street featuring a special company of Spanish actors on tour. I am the manager of the company. What is it, Clint? I'm sorry to trouble you. I'm trying to locate a certain man. I have a good reason to believe he's with your company. We are a small group. His name, please? One name might be Julio. Oh, Julio Cedevaca, please. Gray-haired, medium-built. You are from the police? No. If you are looking for Julio Cedevaca, why are you not from the police? Two days ago, Julio, who does not speak any English, is asked of all things to appear on the television... Television? Television program. Here is his line. I'm proud. But yesterday morning, a man on the telephone, they speak, and Julio goes out with no words. I too am looking for him. He meets his performance the afternoon. I see. He drinks too much sometimes. I know, and he misses the evening. Where he is, this I do not know. But if you find him... I, uh, I have found him. You have found him? Does he have a wife? I am Mr. Cedevaca. What is it, senor? What has happened to my husband? You'd better get your coat, Mrs. Cedevaca. I went back to the morgue with Mrs. Cedevaca, doctor, and after that, I went over to the blue goose club. Tired, Danny Boyd? Tired. Well, come on in and relax. Nice place. You run it for Chick? When he's away. Seen Chick lately? Two sets of cops, three reporters have been here asking the same question already this morning. What are you trying to prove? Chick's in trouble. You're his partner. Now, he got himself into this one spade. Look, we make a nice dollar running this place. It's legitimate. And no cop's gonna raid us or close us up. Chick started fooling around with that Scully woman. And I told him just once. It's dynamite, I said. You know how the old man is? Let bygones be bygones. But Chick didn't listen. Tell me about the bygones. It should be bygones and why Chick should know how the old man is. Well, Scully sent him up five years ago. Didn't you know? No, I didn't. Chick owned some property south of Brasito and Scully wanted it for oil drilling or something. Chick asked too much and Scully figured a way to get it from him in court. Had it condemned or something. Well, Chick got kind of sorry. He met the old man on the street one day and, well, they convicted Chick of attempted murder. Two and a half years. And Chick looked up Scully's daughter when he got out of prison and started making love to her to get in. Well, yes, spade. That's just the way it started. Only Chick was the sucker after all. He really went for the creature. He married her three weeks ago in Reno, the poor sap. Anybody else know about that part of it? Only me. I was best man. By the way, Danny, did you wrap Julio, say, debacle over the head last night and toss him in the bay? Who's Julio, whatever it is? An actor who happened to look something like old man Scully. Enough like him to keep his mouth closed when I was there but who might want to open it later. I, uh... I don't know what you're talking about, spade. I didn't think you would. But, uh, I don't like it. Yeah, boy. Timmy? Joe? Yeah. Throw this bomb out. I'm sick of looking at it. And they did. It was two against one. And I'd been up late the night before. I was doing very well, though, until somebody stooped to a form of subterfuge I have long since grown to hate. I was born on two swathe shoulders out of a club and into the open air. I was on a balcony and a good stiff sea breeze was blowing. I didn't enjoy it long. One, two... Water was cold but refreshing. And I managed to swim the five feet the shore. And that was my limit. I hung onto a slippery piling which supported the blue goose above me and partially hid the antechamber in front of me. It had been a wine cellar once and a loading dock, I suspected, during prohibition. This time it was a hideout. Keep your hands up, spade. Close the door. Six, please. Keep out of this, Helen. Man, you're crazy, Torpy. You got this all wrong. Mr. Spade, right here. There's probably a five grand reward out for me right now. They want me dead or alive, and you're here to tell me how wrong I am. Well, it'll be dead, spade. They'll never take me and you aren't going to. Listen to reason. That's all the reason I'm going to listen to. You know, when I'm doing things my way, I got nothing to lose now. I'm getting out of here. So long, baby. You leaned over to kiss a goodbye and that is when I rediscovered that my wet revolver, even though it wouldn't fire, still had plenty of power left. As you know, doctor, I turned Chick Torpy over to the police along with Danny Covello and took Helen Scully home. She ran upstairs with many tears and I met you in the library. You seemed relieved when you heard the Torpy had been apprehended. However, I had some other questions to ask. You answered. All right, spade, all right. I suppose it'll all come out anyway. Two nights ago, Chick Torpy came to the house to have it out with Mr. Scully. He told him about their marriage. There was an argument. I was the only one in the house. I heard shots, ran in the room, and found Mr. Scully dead. The marriage certificate was in his hand. I knew this would involve Helen and so I did what I did. Well, it was a nightmare. I hid the body hoping to find a way, perhaps, a death certificate on accidental shooting or something. In other words, you were helping Torpy get away with murder. Yes, but I was thinking only of Helen. Her father did love her. But you'd already sent a letter to me. You knew I'd be here the next morning. You'd seen an actor on a television program. He resembled Scully. You hired him for a job. You told Helen the chick had killed her father and told her what kind of acting she had to do. Oh, it was crude, perhaps, but I didn't want you to become suspicious when a death report did show up. I intended to hire you and fire you. Only it didn't work out. I followed Torpy here and found the body. Oh, I've been such a fool, Spade. Helping a man get away with murder, I... I want to confess it all. I suppose this will make me an accessory to a murder. Not exactly. You mean there's a way out? There's a way out and you were going to take it. What? I was over to your apartment before I came here. You're all moved out. The doorman tells me your luggage has been at the station all morning. What'd you do? Can we get a rifle to save? No, I'll see you here, Spade. Stop it. You were waiting around to see if they took Torpy dead or alive. Dead, he couldn't talk, and you'd be okay. Alive, you're ready to blow town. You bumped Scully. No. Get back there. Then you did your best to hang it on a chick. Helen thought he really did it and played along with you. You're not an accessory to murder. You're a murderer on a double count. That actor was knocked on the head before he drowned. Oh, just a minute, Spade. This could be fixed if you... Shut up! I don't understand. What, Angel? I don't understand, Spade. What, what, what, what? I thought you turned Chick Torpy over to the police. Yes, Dr. Kensington was a murderer. A formality, F. He will be released and cleared in short order. Anything else? Well, yes, yes. What about Danny Covellio? An innocent bystander. But he had you beat up and knocked on the head. And he has already made amends with those tickets for the fights. No more questions, F. Type this up and I'll give you the happy ending. And now, listen to this. School days will soon be here, mothers. To make sure a junior's hair is always neat and well-groomed, get after those cowlicks and stray strands with Wild Root Cream Oil, the famous hair tonic that grooms the hair neatly and naturally, relieves dryness and removes loose, ugly dandruff, and remind Dad to ask his barber for a professional application of Wild Root Cream Oil Hair Tonic. Again and again, the choice of men and women and children too. I shall rephrase the question. What? Oh, I see. You mean the magazine like, huh? I had an advance copy. It's not even out till next Tuesday. What's it doing here? Oh, sweetie. Who? Who are these people here? That's Sam Spade. What? On the radio, you know, Howard Duff. He plays you on the radio. Howard Duff? Why don't I play it on the radio? You're not the type, I guess. Man, look here. Sam Spade dictating to Effie. Hey, she's not bad, you know, not bad. Oh, really? That's the accuracy I thought. Why is that? The name is so accuracy. As Bill Spear, Spade Podosa, gives final instructions. Look at him. He has nine o'clock shadow. Well, come on. Let's get out of here. Go to the fights. Oh, Sam. Hmm? Then I can't say it. Say what? Well, if you're taking me to the fights, I... I can't very well leave and say good night, Sam. Well, you can try. It's expected, you know. All right. Good night, Sam. Grins, good night, sweetheart. The Adventures of Sam Spade, Dashel Hammett's famous private detective, are produced and directed by William Spear. Sam Spade is played by Howard Dove. Lorraine Tuttle is Effie. Tonight's Adventure with Sam Spade was written for radio by E. Jack Newman. Musical direction by Lud Gluskin, with score composed by Pierre and Renee Gerrigank. Join us again next Sunday when author Dashel Hammett and producer William Spear join forces for another adventure with Sam Spade. Brought to you by Wild Root Cream Oil. Again and again, the choice of men and women and children, too. This is Dick Joy, reminding you, too. Get Wild Root Cream Oil, Charlie. It keeps her hair in trim. You see, it's not... That's the Columbia Broadcasting System. Stay tuned for Life with Louis Jeon. W-C-B-S-A-M-S-M, New York.