 I'm now for yours truly, Johnny Dollar. The next half hour has its baggage packed to take a trip with America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator, Johnny Dollar. At insurance investigation, he's just an expert. At making out his expense account, he's an absolute beast. Expense accounts submitted by Special Investigator Johnny Dollar to Frederick Kimball, General Manager of Fine Arts, Inc., New York, New York. The following is an accounting of my expenditures in the investigation of the stolen portrait of the Duke of Masson, or who opened the season on canvas back to. Expense account item one, $350 plane fare, New York to London. Item two, $125 replacement brand new light sand topcoat borrowed and not returned by fellow passenger during flight. We've cleared Ganda Newfoundland and we're four hours out, flying at 20,000 feet over the Atlantic with a knife in the weather and fighting it out to see which could darken the sky first. Most of the passengers were asleep, but the rough weather was giving the man a seat beside me at a rough time. Although the plane had leveled off, his dinner was still trying to gain altitude. Among other things, he complained of chill, so I slipped out of my topcoat and threw it around his shoulder. Oh, thank you. Sorry to be such a bother. Oh, I think I'll try a drink of water. Okay, I'll bust for the stewardess. No, don't bother. He's up forward. Maybe they walk back, we'll do me some good. I'll be right back. I'll be here. My seat later carried his constitutional too far. He stepped out for a breath of fresh air. I don't think anybody gets sick enough to do that. By the time I got to the back of the ship, the rear seat passengers were milling around on the aisle. Oh, I'm claiming not to know anything about what had happened. I didn't know that. But if my ex-friend hadn't got out of the plane, he'd been pushed. And that posed this tantalizing question. If he'd been pushed, and since he'd been wearing my light tan topcoat, was I the one who was supposed to be taking that 20,000-foot swan dive into the Atlantic? I looked over the passengers, and to me, they all looked guilty. I knew they couldn't be. I also knew I had no chance of finding out which one was. The thing settled down. Everybody started asking the stewardess for sedatives to help them get back to sleep. I asked her for some black coffee to keep awake. By four o'clock the next afternoon, I was in good health, in London, and in the office of your policy holder, Dexter Morley. Yes, I've been expecting you, darling. You're a company cable that you were coming. You're very generous of them to send you all the way over here to help. The way I have to pay out my expense account to make an honest living. Don't ever accuse my clients of generosity. Oh? They aren't being soft-hearted benefactors. They're being hard-headed businessmen. If that painting stays lost, it'll cost them $250,000. Well, I'd better brief you from the beginning. Oh, well, you're under your story, Morley. Don't mind. I'm just sleeping. I see. Very well. I'll make a brief dollar. Well, during my lifetime, I have developed an overwhelming appreciation for fine painting. Unfortunately, I have not been able to develop the fortune that should go with it. As a result, I haven't only not been able to make great paintings, but been able to afford to travel to the museums around the world where the great masterpieces hang. I guess there must be a lot of people stuck in the same fridge. Exactly. And that's what gave birth to my plan. I have organized what you might call the Masterpieces of the Month Club. Its members are 12 of the top museums and galleries in the world. This plan calls for them to rotate their most famous paintings. In other words, if the people can't afford to come to the pictures, my scheme brings the pictures to the people. A new one every month. Oh, it's very interesting, Mr. Morley. But let's talk about the one that got away. Oh, yes, of course. I was merely outlining the background of this case to delineate my responsibility of the matter. Well, so now we know that you feel personally responsible for the loss of the painting, even though it's well-insured. Mr. Dollar, no amount of money can get that picture repainted by the man who originally painted it. The artist Bonnet has been dead for more than 300 years. A real gone guy. If we fail to recover Bonnet's masterpiece, the Duke of Masson, it would not only be a tremendous shock, but also a tremendous loss to the world of art. Further, it would ruin my reputation. The very first painting to be loaned arrives here in London from Paris four days ago. And the first night after I delivered it to the museum, it has stolen off their wall. Okay, Mr. Morley. Don't look through the story. Where's the museum? It's the New Art Gallery at Coventry. Here's the address. I won't be able to accompany myself as I'm flying across the channel immediately to try to calm the official in Paris. The ones who loaned the stolen painting, they've been calling incessantly. I'll phone my assistant Miss Harding to meet you at the main entrance of the museum in, let's say, 45 minutes. Okay. He'll all be the man asleep on his step. Miss Account, item three. Sixpence tapenies. London papers. The read while waiting for Miss Harding at museum entrance. No matter what I told Mr. Morley, I was afraid to go to sleep. Age one of each newspaper referred to my reason. The misadventure which had occurred on a plane the night before. A possible attempt on my life. Then along came another good reason for my lid not drooping. Miss Harding was an eye opener. Speaking in artistic terms, no painter could completely capture her dimension. A sculptor could come closer. Oh, as I was concerned, so could she. And she did. What do you think, Mr. Dollar? What do you mean? I'm Miss Harding. Miss Morley indicated that I might find you asleep. I said it must have been a shocking experience on the way over. Oh, not only shocking, but frustrating. Yes, there was nothing much that could be done. We searched along enough to drop a few life brasses and flares and a big blob of yellow oil to help mark the spot. Then all the pilot could do was call for the AirC Rescue Boys and hope. Yes, it's been in all the papers the whole day for a check. Yeah, it could be that there, but for the grace of a light tan topcoat, go on. What is that? Oh, nothing. Well, shall we go museum prowling? Yes, of course. There isn't much to see, just a blank space on the wall. Well, let's take a look anyway. Hey, did you see a blank space on the wall? Oh, I know. You mean they stole the painting frame and oil? Indeed they did. Our thieves are doing things the hard way these days. Usually they just cut the painting out of the frames, take it under the coat and make a getaway. Yes, Mr. Dollar, I know, but perhaps this job was done by a beginner or perhaps the burglar was interrupted and had to need to run for its frame and oil. There are infinite possibilities. Infinite? Thanks. Mr. Dollar, thank you. I think this trip here to the museum is an utter waste of time. I've gone over the whole situation with a gentleman from Scotland now. There isn't so much as a single fingerprint. Miss Harding, I have yet to solve a case with a fingerprint. Sorry, I forgot. I mean, just can't stand to be in a show of efficiency in a woman. Oh, I wouldn't say that. It's according to what they're trying to represent me. I am speaking of business. Mr. Dollar, I'm sure that I can send you a break through the trouble. I've already done an extraordinary amount of research on this case. Well, be careful what you tell me, Miss Harding. At this point, I can do it easily. Mr. Dollar, a child could understand what I have to tell you. Sometimes a wide awake child is better than a sleepy man. Let's go ahead. Now, this is the case right here. There. You see? A black wall. Now, Mr. Dollar, of the 12 former arches in London, I have discovered that nine are currently in prison. One is in hospital after falling four stories off a roof. And the other two are at large, and ladies aren't residing at the addresses I have here. You sound more like a patron of the criminal court than you do of the arts. In the past, I've been to criminology's fascination. Now, have you seen enough of your black wall? Yeah, things are blank enough. Give me those addresses. And while you're right, I think you'd better give me yours. Mr. Dollar, you don't think I look suspicious? Oh, no. Delicious. Spencer Cow, item four. Five shillings, cab fare to Scotland Yard. Tip to driver, two bars. In terms of the money, I speak all languages. Scotland Yard from the outside looked like a big public school. Well, it has taught a lot of lessons to a lot of people. Inside, it was tea time. When I inquired for the officer in charge of the robbery, with which I was concerned, I was led to an Inspector Carew. First, he gave me a cup of tea, then he gave me my lumps. Mr. Dollar, you sit here and ask me why we haven't done something. Believe me, sir, the yard is not as archaic as its architecture. There's a simple legal procedure which must occur before we can make either an investigation or an arrest. Well? First, a complaint must be lodged by the legal owners of any stolen property. At that point, and at that point only, are we allowed to act. You mean nobody called for help? Well, naturally, when the museum discovered the painting, he immediately rang us up. We went to court to gather primary evidence. Unfortunately, there was none. Well, what about the owners of the painting? The museum in Paris? As yet, we've heard nothing. We expect to momentarily. Inspector, just out of curiosity, what about this girl, this Harding? I'd say she's, uh... Well, uh, a jolly, fine type. I mean, do you know anything about her? I've stayed. Do yanks carry off enough of our girls after the war? I'm not in the importing business. I mean, is she known to you professionally? What? You suspect her? Well, not particularly, but she did give me this list. In her opinion, this is the who's who and where they are of your city's light-fingered art lovers. Let me see it. Well, quite complete and quite accurate. Hardly the work of an amateur. We've heard what a young lady like Miss Harding come into such information. That, Inspector Carew, is exactly what I'm driving at. I've got a taxi headed from Scotland Yard on my way to check into the Mount Royal Hotel. I gave my eyes a rest at the risk of missing the sightseeing, but my mind refused to follow suit that now had three blank walls to stare into. The one in the museum, the one at Scotland Yard, and the most provocative of the three to look at, the girls who knew too much, Miss Burial Harding. My mind also kept ruffling my nerve ends with a question. Was I supposed to be the guy who got dumped out of that plane the night before? We arrived at the Mount Royal Hotel, and I got my answers. Here we are, sir. That's the Mount Royal right. Stayed on, of course, the way you can't miss it. Okay. What's the bill? That'll be off the crowd. How much? Two and six cents. Oh, here, you'll figure it out. Shoot! God, ever so clever. That was a close one. You all right, government? Yeah. You know, I mean, just the cars are back on the street. It's more dangerous to walk around now than it was when them ruddy buzzbonds were dropping. Yeah, a couple of good things about the buzzbonds, though. Nobody aims them at you personally, and nobody was at the wheel to steer them. That made it official. I had been set up for a picture, and it caused me somebody had tried to turn into a seagull during that flight across the Atlantic. Extended to Count Item 5, three pounds 10 to Bellaboy for service of rent. How about that 14 bucks for a bottle of scotch? An actor of 40 winks that felt like only 20. Then I grabbed a shower, a shave, and a cab down Oxford Street and over to Soho. Extended to Count Item 6, five shillings, the legal limit on the price of dinner in England these days. I ate in a nice place called Kettner's, dinner being a bit of chicken, three choices of vegetables. Brussels sprouts boiled, Brussels sprouts creamed, and Brussels sprouts roasted. For dessert, I looked at the names and addresses of Miss Harding's two candidates for the boys most likely to have succeeded in swiping the missing portrait of a Duke of Masson. I was in the right district for one of them. I found myself in a dark and lonely muse. That may sound good to you, but in Soho, a muse is still only a place fit for ash cans and cats. There's the address of the number one boy on Miss Harding's list. At a top step, I was breathing hard, and I wasn't off on the climb. That's my teeth. My knuckles were knocked on the door. Then I broke road through the basic instructions for the working snoop. I opened the door. That lock never went to Yale. The door of a wood-burning stove across the room was open. The flames erratically pinging the walls with orange light, then erasing them back into black dark. I finally dared to breathe. Then I saw what I was looking for, lying on a table. Its edges curled upward. An oil painting of a guy with short breeches and a long face. I started forward, but something bored my foot. I stared down at the floor in front of me. First it was pitch black. Then the light from the stove cleared up, and I saw that the object was what it... I thought it was, and hoped it wasn't. A man wearing his head, and I don't mean his hair, pointed in the middle. I rushed across the room, flipped them over the top of the stove, gave me more light, and looked for a telephone. There was none in the room with a corpse, so I tried the door of the next room. And the door I was trying started erupting. In just a moment, we'll return to the second act of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. But first, we want to remind you that those delightful, charming neighbors, Ozzie and Harriet, are coming back home next Sunday night. Coming back to CBN. You'll be able to join them on most of these same stations at 6.30 Eastern Standard Time, just before the Jack Benny show. Ozzie and Harriet now have their own sons, Ricky and David, playing themselves in place of the young actors who formerly portrayed them. So make it a party for your whole family when Ozzie and Harriet, Ricky and David, come home with their fun and laughter to CBS next Sunday night. And now, back to yours truly, Johnny Dollar. When bullets came crashing through the door, I dropped to the floor. I still don't know whether my knees buckled or I meant to go down. I stayed where I was, but whoever it was on the other side of that door decided to take off, out the window. I got to my feet, but by the time I kicked the door, I got to the window. I had that old mother-hubbered feeling. The cupboard was there. That's what I'm doing here in your flatness, Harding. After my little adventure, the first thing I did was to call the police. And the second was to come here to call on you, the girl who steered me into that shooting gallery. Well, you mean you sound so annoyed at me. Of course I advised you to go there, but after all, it was your duty. You did recover the picture. I almost lost my health doing it for the third time. Really? Yes, really. First, somebody tried to make a sea-going parrot trooper out of me. Then they tried to make me part of the pavement by running me down with an auto. And now tonight, somebody on the other side of the door tries to turn it into my personal copy of the pearly gate. That's really enough for me. Mr. Dollar, where is the painting now? At Scotland Yard. And now let's change the subject back. What's bothering me is bothering me plenty. I want to know who didn't want me to find that picture. And why? Well, I seem elementary. Thank you, Doctor Watt. The food naturally didn't want you to find it. Miss Harding, please. When I got shot at, the apparent thief was dead. Well, they do have henchmen, you know. If he was killed by an accomplice, why are the killer leave the painting? I'd have no way of knowing. Of that, I'm still not sure. Oh, really? Mr. Dollar, come off it. You hardly suspect me. I suspect you less than you'd stop saying that. At this point, I suspect everyone, even Dexter Morley, dreaming up this whole painting of the month scheme to bring those paintings within a stealing distance. Oh, but that's utter living. I know, I know. If that was the plan, he'd wait until he had more than one picture on the road to steal. That's why I don't suspect him. Well, frankly, I don't see why you continue to worry. After all, you're part of the job he's done, isn't it? Yeah, I suppose you're right. When I still have a yearning burning deep down inside of me to break somebody's neck. Mind if I use your phone? Of course not. Help yourself. All right. Hello, I want to talk to New York. Don't worry, I'll call Collect. My name is Johnny Dollar. I want to place a collect call in New York. The number is Plaza 6, 9184. Dexter St. Claude. And the call is... Correct. Collect. Oh, they'll call me. Well, while you're waiting, it's probably due in a break. Is the temporary? What have you got? Oh, dinner calling, dinner lemon, dinner Italian, or dinner French. I wish it. No thanks. Well, come and sit down over there. Where are you resting? There's more restful in the eyes where I am. Here, I can have a better look at you. However... All right, Mr. Dolly, you can be charming. Do you mind if I change the mix of this song? It sounds much more fun. Well, swap your one, Johnny, for every Muriel you let me use. Mr. Bargain. Now, tell me about yourself. Your line of work is fascinating. I'm an absolute bargain criminologist. At the moment, Muriel, that happens to be my unfavorite subject. Let's talk about you. Where shall I begin? Just after the age of 21. Oh, you're a naughty type. At the age of 21, I was serving in the West. The Women's Air Force. Oh, you must have had a lot of exciting adventures. You rather. What was the most exciting? Oh, I think perhaps the night the young U.S. Air Force Captain Steve. Oh, one of the boys of the wild blue yonder. Maybe it was the blue of your eyes that made him wild. Johnny. I know how he must have felt. Hey, Johnny. Oh, I'll be right back. All right, Johnny. Hello? Are you there? Are you there? Of course I'm here. Mr. Duller? That's right. A minute, you stop. Is this the fine arts insurer? I want to talk to Mr. Kimball. Yes, yes, yes, Duller. I'm on the line. Go ahead. Well, you can stop worrying, Kimball. I got the painting back. You say you did get it back? That's right. It's safe. All you'll have to pay is the price of a new frame. What's that you mean? Well, the guy who swiped it took the painting out of the frame. I don't know where it is. Well, ask the culprit what he did with it. I can't. He's dead. Well, then look. Okay, Fred. Don't go out on any bridge work. I'll look around for it. You've been everything you... It's too near doing that already. What did you say? Okay, Fred. I'll cable you what happened. Goodbye. Well, Muriel, vacation's over. I just got put back to work. I gathered in your conversation. You want us into chasing up into the night to look for the picture frame? Yeah, that's it. Oh, it's really distant. I think you've probably already found it somewhere in that fellow's flat. Well, check that. But my work is personal service. Oh, but... Oh, Master Bear Johnny, you're turning half-punched in. Couldn't you put it off your morning? Well, there's nothing I'd like better, but... Couldn't you stay even for a little while? Well, just long enough to calm my nerves. Big Ben was ringing up midnight on Time's greedy cash register. When I finally cleared with a Bobby guarding the back alley flat, it had not so long before given up one precious life and one very precious painting. The place was darker than it had been on my previous visit, and when I groped for the electric switch, I realized why. There had been a brisk fire blazing before. Upon I'm great at the stove, I found enough unburned portions of the hot picture frame to justify my conclusions. And I found something else that came under the category of hot rocks. Friends, account item seven. Cab fare to the office of Dexter Morley. The front door was not only locked, it was barred. However, at the back of the building, I had better luck. A loose window down to the basement. I had broken the law, but I didn't want to break my neck, so I snapped on a light. The basement was loaded with cabinet-making equipment, but for my dough, they weren't making any cabinets. There was a bench with a power drill, and on the floor below it, a pile of sawdust and wood shading. That was normal enough, but the sawdust pile was blending with tiny specks of crystallized glue. With what I had now, all I had to find was Dexter Morley. He made that easy, he found me. Stay down there, darling. Right where you are. Well, welcome home from that trip to Paris you didn't take. That gun in your hand suggests that I'm right about one thing anyway. Yes, and what would that be? That whoever took those shots at me earlier tonight was probably not an Englishman. The barbies over here don't carry guns, which makes most English mugs afraid to. You're an American. That's an interesting but hardly valuable. I've got some more. How valuable is this? I think you're in on, or at the head of, a very high-class smuggling racket. And I think you set up that painting of the month scheme of yours to establish just about the neatest method of smuggling that I've ever heard of. You're very generous, but I know how I operate, so what you could tell me about it could do nothing more than bore me. What I want from you are the diamonds. Maybe I can trade you. Some diamonds for some answers. You're in no position to bargain. Give me the diamonds and I'll shoot you and take them off you. No, wait a minute. I'd better explain my bargaining position, and I think you admit it's not the worst. Since you must have followed me here, you know I took a cab from the murder flat, one without a tail light, so you don't have a number. But, brother, I do. And the diamonds are jammed down behind its back seats. Now, let's bargain. Why, you... All right. What do you want to know? Just let me do the guessing. You can check me if I'm wrong. You set up a chain of famous paintings which would move around the world through your branch offices. As each one passed through your hands here, the frame was to be dismantled and a hole was bored in it at the joints for the purpose of smuggling diamonds. Right so far? Yes, brother, right. But remember, the more you are right about, the worse it is for me. So, naturally, the worst it is for you. We'll take care of that later. This scheme of yours is fascinating. The stuff moves around the world and the picture frames under official armed guard and enjoying virtual diplomatic immunity through customs. It's great. It's better than great, but it hasn't been for that heavy handed oath. Oh, that still is in a missing link. A man of the night comes a burglar, steals your first loaded picture, shoves the frame into his stove to get rid of it. You arrive, cream him with your gun, then I arrive, interrupting you before you get what you want out of the burning frame, and then... You saw what happened to him when he resisted me, Stella. Now, you must realize that I won't hesitate a moment. It works the other way, doesn't it? You kill me, who tells you the number that's taxi? And without it, you will never get your diamond. There are other ways. Keep your hands behind you. Same rule. I thought so. Your head will wear out before this gun barrel does. Still more like talking? Just enough to tell you one more thing. You can tell I've blonde the countless of yours. I was on to her from the start. Tony, what do you mean? What? Don't shoot back. I can't repay you for those three tries you made or had made on my life, Mollie. Well, here's what it feels like to be being hit on the head with a gun. A rocker by booby. Muriel, look out. You'll fall. I told you, that's a very undignified way for a lady to enter a room through a basement window. Johnny, I was only trying to help, and there you were accusing me of being the accomplice. After all those nice things you said to me before. Whoa, wait a minute. I followed you. I wanted to see how you were. I'll break you and your criminology. At least you might have stepped in before you hit me those two licks. Oh, I'm sorry, Johnny. It's just that I love crime. Well, come on, get up. What? It would be a crime if Mr. Warley there woke up and I had to put him back to sleep again before the police got here. Oh, what was it all about? It was about these little black things. I've got a pocket full of them. There. Scrape one of them with your fingernail. Oh, it's nice. Tony, that's the kind of glass a fellow hands his girl when he wants to be engaged to marry her. Johnny, Johnny, you mean? Yes, I mean only that they're diamonds. Expense account item 8. $350. Plain fare out of attempted matrimony by the party of the second part. Item 9. $25. Gift to Muriel Harding. Two books. One on the art of crime, the other on the art of cookery. In the hopes that the latter might attract her to the pursuit of a more womanly hobby. Item 10, 10 cents. Roma Seltzer. Perches upon landing at Ganda Newfoundland. The only thing still fighting me on this case were those Brussels sprouts I had at dinner in London the night before. Expense account total? $15.63 and 40 cents. If you find any slight discrepancy in this amount, in my favor, blame it on my confusion and lack of understanding of the international rate of exchange. The only thing I like to exchange at this point is my head with its true new lump. Wishing you the same. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. In just a moment, more about Johnny Dollar. But first, Academy Award winner, Jane Wyman comes as guest to the Family Hour of Stars and Ozzie and Harriet return in triumph to CBS. These are two headline-making events for next Sunday night. Add these two shows to the top comedy of Jack Benny, the feminine charm and dramatic talent of Helen Hayes and Eve Arden, the ace comedy teams of Amos and Andy and Lemon Abner, and CBS Sunday Night makes great news. On top of this, there are the notable mystery capers with Sam Spade and the laughter with life with Luigi and its age to be ignorant. So don't miss a single one of CBS 10 Great Entertainment next Sunday night when they're heard over most of these same stations. Jack Benny, of course, comes to you over them all. Listen in again next week when CBS brings you your truly Johnny Dollar with Charles Russell as Johnny. Your truly Johnny Dollar is written by Paul Dudley and Gil Dow, with music by Mark Warno and is produced and directed by Richard Sanville for CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.