 The FW Fitch Company, makers of those fine Fitch products, presents Dick Powell as private investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's gallery. Rogue speaking, well, things were a little slow at the office, which is my way of saying I didn't have a client or a dime. And I was indulging in my favorite form of athletics. A fast game of snooker pool with Herb Heidi, the bookie at the Deluxe Pool Hall. Heidi was born with a pool cue in one hand and a cue ball in the other, and I was born with an eight ball birthmark. He was trimming me like a Christmas tree, and I was glad when the elevator boy from my building yelled into the door that I had a customer in my office. So I shoved off to talk to this volunteer victim. When I opened the door to my office, I saw him standing there, a dignified-looking white-haired gent, with a strong nose, a weak mouth, and the nice middle-class air of substantial citizenry. You're Mr. Rogue? That's Ryan. You want to talk business with me, Mr.... Grant. George Grant, yes. Oh, have a chair, Mr. Grant. No, thank you. I prefer to stand. Mr. Rogue, I understand that you have connections with the fire insurance companies. That you are sometimes retained by them to investigate losses which might have been caused by arson. That's right. Go on. Are you interested in the fire at Matthew's fur company warehouse a week ago? I could be. That fire was arson, Mr. Rogue. I can tell you some very interesting facts about it. Good, good. That was a pretty important claim, wasn't it? The fire destroyed over $100,000 worth of furs. Well, start talking, Grant. I'd like to have $1,000 before I talk with you, Mr. Rogue. Well, I don't usually pay out that kind of money until I know what I'm buying. I'm not saying a word, sir, till I get $1,000. I've been double-crossed once on this deal, and I don't intend to take a chance on getting the same treatment from you. Just how much did you have to do with this torching, Grant? I don't intend to answer that question. Do I get my $1,000, Mr. Rogue? Come back in an hour. You'll have the money for me then? Yeah, yeah. Come back in an hour. And your story, it better be good, Grant. I'm a busy man. I haven't time to fool around with crackpots. I'll have the proof. Okay. It's all along now. Oh, it's four o'clock, Grant. I'll see you at five on the dot, right? I'll be here. Well, hello, Flynn. Say, your outfit had the Matthew's fur company warehouse fire covered, didn't they? Who is this? This is Richard Rogue. Yes, yes, we had it. $160,000 claim. Fine. Say, would you pay me 10% of what I saved you on that claim if I could prove the fire was arson? $16,000? No. Okay, okay. Save $16,000 and lose $160. I can afford it if you can. Wait a minute. How can you prove arson? I've got a man. He wants to talk. He says he can prove arson. I believe him. I'll give you $10,000 for a conviction. I'll take it. Look, send a thousand-dollar retainer over here, special messenger, right away. It's important. Hey, wait a minute. Hello, Flynn. Yes, where have you been, Rogue? Well, my source of information has just been eliminated. But the deal's on. What do you mean? Well, he must have known too much. He's been murdered. Well, that's the beginning of a case out of my crime gallery called Fortune and Furs. I'll tell you the rest of the story in a minute. But first, here's Jim Doyle, who's going to tell you men how to shave off stubble without fuss or trouble. Thanks, Dick. Men, if you have that show-me attitude when it comes to shaving cream, we invite you to try Fitcher's No Brush. We think it has the qualities you want in a shaving cream, a smooth, non-greasy texture, a skin conditioner ingredient to protect sensitive skins, and a fast action that instantly prepares your face for the grandest, coolest shave you've ever had. And to top it all off, Fitcher's No Brush is reasonably priced. So we suggest you try it. See if we're not right when we say Fitcher's No Brush gives a solid comfort shave. If you're one of the many who swear by a ladder cream, try Fitcher's Brush Cream. This cream gives loads of swell ladder that stays moist all during the shave. It rinses off easily too. Like Fitcher's No Brush, it contains a skin conditioner that makes even the most sensitive skins feel cool and smooth. Yes, men, for shaving comfort, try either Fitcher's Brush or Fitcher's No Brush shaving cream. Both come in a form you like at a price you like. What's more, both will give you the kind of shave you like. So ask the man behind the counter for Fitcher's Shave Cream. Fitch, spelled F-I-T-C-H. And now back to Dick Powell as private investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's Gallery. Well, as I was saying, I was as broke as a New Year's resolution when I ran across proof that the Matthews Fir Company warehouse fire was arson. I called Lewis Flynn, who headed up the Fidelity Fire Insurance Company and made a deal with him for $10,000 if I could prove that the fire was of incendiary origin. And while I was talking with him, George Grant, my witness, was killed leaving the building. Well, I couldn't afford to lose a $10,000 fee right then, so I took a fast distance to the home of the late George Grant. I knocked at the door. What do you want? I want to talk with you, your George Grant's daughter. Yes. You're the police? Uh, yes. Come in. Thank you. I suppose you want to question me about my father's affairs. Yes, that's right. Come in here, please. I can't believe that dad is dead. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Believe me. And if you'll help me, I'm sure we can find the people who murdered him. Sit down, please. Thank you. Miss Grant, what was your father's business? Oh, don't you know? He was warehouse manager for the Matthews Fir Company. He had been for years. Oh, did he have any enemies that you know of? No. Dad wasn't the kind of a man who made enemies. He was... Well, he was sweet. Oh, I don't know. There'd been something wrong with him for the last couple of weeks. He wasn't himself. He was worried. And it was all that blond's fault. Blond? Yes, Bernice Maxwell. Dad came involved with her. And he was spending too much money on her. Much, too much money. Oh, uh, how long ago did he meet this, uh... Miss Maxwell? About a month ago, I guess. She deliberately chased him. She must have had some reason for it. Dad was no great catch. He was just a little guy, working for a salary, trying to get along. You say he's been acting strangely. In what way? Could you break that down a little bit for me? Well, I'll try. You see, for a while he was talking about how he was going to have a lot of money. All of a sudden. He was happy and carefree then. He was gone from home quite a bit. One night he had a meeting here with some rough-looking man. He wouldn't tell me who they were. Yeah, it's gone. Then after the warehouse fire, he was depressed. And he... he talked about... He talked about killing himself. I knew he was in some awful trouble, but he wouldn't talk with me about it. He just kept calling Bernice Maxwell. She wouldn't answer the phone even. Did your father talk with you much about the fire? No. But I'm sure that that fire had something to do with his... his murder. I know it did. That Maxwell woman has something to do with it too. How do you suppose that is? I think I know. Anyway, I don't want to talk to anybody else. If you stay here, maybe they'll leave. Is this the residence of George Grant? Yes, who are you? Lieutenant Urban, homicide squad. Oh, won't you come in? Hello, Urban. Rogue, what are you doing here? Isn't he a policeman? No. What are you doing here, Rogue? I'm working on a case. Do you know anything about a murder that took place outside your office an hour ago? What are you doing out here? Well, I'm working for a client. I've got a license to do that. Do you want to see it? If he isn't a policeman, who is he? He's a private investigator, which is a Harvard version of a gumshoe. His name is Rogue, Richard Rogue. It is? Well, he told me he was a policeman. I wouldn't have let him in. That's not very gracious of you, Miss Grant. Shut up, Miss Grant. Did you give this man any information which you should have withheld for the police? He kept asking me questions about... about my father. I answered him. What do you know about a murder, that murder, Rogue? Who did it? I don't know. How did you get out here so fast? How did you know who the murdered man was? I don't have to answer that. Well, he'd been up to your office to see you, hadn't he? Daddy? Miss Grant, do you know whether or not your father planned on seeing a private investigator today? Well, I don't know. He didn't tell me if he did. I'm getting a little fed up with your ethics, Rogue. Aren't you getting a little out of line, Urban? You're withholding information. Can you prove it? This man was shot on his way out of your office. What was he talking to you about? Answer me. Did you see him talking to me? Oh, now let's not get technical. Let's do, let's do. You're going to take me down to the station and sweat me? Not if you'll be reasonable. I'm not going to be reasonable. So either pull out your cuffs or shut up. Oh, please. I'm sorry, Miss Grant. Believe me. I really want to help you. I'm going to take care of the people who are responsible for this murder. Even the cops can't keep you from doing that. I'm walking out of here, Urban. I'll see you later. When I deliver the killers to you so you can take a bow for the newspapers. Oh, I was burned like a bride's biscuits and feeling just as tough. And I walked out of that house and passed Urban's squad car to my coop. It didn't do my atomic temper any good when a pasty-faced gunman got out of the front seat of my car and pointed a pistol at me. Hello, Rogue. Get in. We're going places. Huh? Oh, okay, Junior. But be careful of that thing. It might go off. Where to, Junior? Straight down the street. I'll tell you when to turn. You had a visitor at your office this morning. How much talking did he do? Oh, you mean George Grant? You know who I mean. Well, he didn't talk much. Why? Who wants to know? The boss. Hey, look out where you're going, Rogue. Well, I'm not worried. I've got the wheel. Let's get this thing out of low, shall we? What are you trying to do, Rogue? Kill yourself? No, it makes me feel safer going this fast because you pull the trigger on that heater and you're just as dead as I am. Slow down, Rogue. Hey. Hey, that guy almost crashed us. What's the matter, bully boy? You yelling? I've got a tank full of gas and this car will make over a hundred. You're going to kill us both. That's possible. As a matter of fact, it's probable. But you were going to take me for a ride anyway, weren't you? I got nothing to lose. Give me that gun. Hey, keep your hands on the wheel, Rogue. Hey, hey. Cut it off. Give me that gun, punk. Come on. Get your hands on the wheel, Rogue. You're going to crash us. Give me that gun or I'll rip right into that wall ahead of us. You know me, kid. I mean it. Now, give me that gun. Would you let me go? No. Give it here. He's passed on. Hey. Hey. In the struggle for the gun, I twisted this torpedo's hand around and, well, he pulled the trigger himself with me a contributing factor. He shot himself through the chest, but it didn't look fatal to me. So I drove him to a hospital and left him there. Told them to call Urban. I used the hospital phone to check up on Bernice Maxwell and found that she was a sort of a notorious babe, ran an escort service, which was legitimate enough, but she's had a few sidelines such as a blackmail. I got her home address out of the book and went out there. She lived in a nice enough house out on the east side of town. I rang the doorbell. Yes? Hello, Miss Maxwell. I'd like to talk to you for a moment, please. Who are you? Well, let's talk about that inside, shall we? What do you mean, forcing your way in here? I mean business, Blondie. And that's what we're going to talk about. Now, let's go in the other room and have a chat. You just lead the way. After all, you are the hostess. If you don't get out of here, I'm going to call the police. Don't bother, baby. I'm the police. And I want to talk to you about a fire and a murder. So just get moving. Come on. A murder? Yes. Yes, a murder. Doesn't the fire surprise you too? Sit down. I don't know what you're talking about. Who are you anyway? That's beside the point. I want to know what you had to do with the murder of George Grant. You can talk now or later. I've got nothing but time. George Grant? He's dead? Yes, very. He was murdered about five minutes after Ford downtown on Grand Avenue. And I think you know who did it. I don't. I don't know anything about it. You never heard of him, huh? I knew him slightly. Oh, now please, Miss Maxwell. You knew him better than slightly. You've been running around with him or giving him the run around for the last month. You deliberately set a trap for him, didn't you? You mixed him up in that arson job in the Matthewsford Company's warehouse. I don't know anything about arson. You can't come in here and threaten me. Oh, look, lady, I'm not going to be polite about this. George Grant has been murdered. You had a hand in that murder, and I'm going to get the information out of you if I have to beat it out of you. And if you think I'm bluffing, just keep on dumbing up. Now, who was mixed up in that arson job that Grant was killed for knowing too much about? Look, I'm going to count three, then I'm going to come over there and slap the information out of you. Look... Look... If I tell you what you want to know, will you fix it with the district attorney to let me turn state evidence? It depends on how good your information is. You have nothing on me! Now, don't start that again! You almost had your mind made up to be smart. Don't double-cross yourself. Now, come on. Talk. I have everything you need right here in this desk. Now you're talking. Now, wise guy, get your hands up. Huh? Oh, no kidding. Now, look, Maxwell. This is nothing you can shoot your way out of, especially with a toy gun like that. Sit down. No. If I'm going to be shot, I want to be standing up when I get it. This is a silly piece of grandstanding, Blondie. I'm going to take that gun away from you before you nerve yourself into pulling the trigger. Don't. Don't come another step. I'm telling you, if you do, I'll shoot. You don't think one bullet from that little 25 is going to stop me, do you? It won't, Maxwell. I'll just keep right on coming, and I'll take it away from you. And I'll put you in the pen for the rest of your life for attempted murder. I'll be there anyway if I don't get rid of you. Don't be a sucker now. Think of those 13 steps to the death house. I'm coming after that gun, Maxwell. You take one more step and... I hated it. Slapped that gun out of your hand, Blondie, but you didn't want to shoot me anyway, did you? Let go of my arm. You're hurting me. Now talk. Who was behind that arson deal? Who was the touch-off man? Who was the brain? I can't tell you, baby. Come on. Come on. I haven't much sympathy for dames like you. You killed George Graham, just as much as if you pulled the trigger on him. Now talk, baby. Talk. Do you hear? I can't believe I... Hey, Blondie, come out of it. Come on. Well, I'm a son of a gun. She passed out on me. Hey, Maxwell, come out of it now, will you? Come on. All right, rogue. Just stay right where you are. Huh? What did you do to Benny's? Well, nothing. I... Did she talk? No. No, she didn't. It's good. How did you get here, rogue? Well, I... I trolled. I... Oh, I... I got rid of that little pasty-puss gunman you sent after me. Where is he? He's been taken care of. That's funny. That's exactly what's going to happen to you, Richard. Stand still while I get this gun out of that shoulder-hole still. Okay, okay. You're in the driver's seat. You just couldn't have learned to stay out of trouble, could you? Trouble's my business, Bob. Get up and keep your hands in the air. Oh, sure. Sure. Well, if you're going to let me have it, this is as good a time as any, isn't it? Time's all right. But I don't like the place, that's all. I'm going to take you out in the country. That's nice to think about. I love the country. You know I'm going to have to kill you, don't you? You know too much. Sure. Sure. You couldn't stand a police investigation, could you, Bob? No. You know, you should have covered me yourself when I left the grant house. You should never send a boy to do a man's work. You're yellow too, aren't you? You haven't got the guts to pull a trigger yourself. You've got a lot of nerve talking that way when you're looking down the barrel of this gun, Richard. You're a two-for-a-nickle-penny-added tenhorn, Frenchie. And I'm going to take that gun away from you and make you eat it. Yes. Well, I have plans for you, Richard. I'm going to bend this gun over your head first, and then I'm going to get rid of you for good. You haven't got the guts. No. Turn around, rogue. Well, I wasn't as bad as I sounded there, believe me. I'm no hero, and usually when a guy has the drop on me, I obey orders like a corporal bucking for sergeant. But I didn't have much to lose, and for once I wanted to be hit over the head. Oh, I got my wish and rolled with a blow. Those all-familiar stars started to circulate around my indestructible cranium, and I started to black out. But I pulled myself back and hung on to consciousness. I didn't move after I fell. I didn't have to. You see, I fell with my left shoulder in the shadows, covering the automatic I'd slapped out of Bernice Maxwell's hand a little earlier. When I heard this character walk away from me, I got my right hand on the gun. He went over to where Bernice was, just coming around to this world again. I could hear him talking to her. Bernice. Bernice. Oh, it's you, Marcel. Where is he? Rogue? He's on ice over there in the corner. You kill him? No, but I'm going to. I didn't want to do it here on your house. Drop that gun, Marcel. I'm taking over from here. What? Drop it! Marcel is over there by the pier! We'll return to Richard Rogue in just a moment, but first I have a suggestion for the ladies. Do you have trouble finding a shampoo that your whole family likes? If you do, why not present them with a bottle of Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo. Wheel wager they'll be delighted with it because Fitch's saponified shampoo is a favorite with both men and women, young folks and old. Dad likes it for the business-like cleansing it gives. Your young daughter will swoon over its fragrance and the way it gives her hair dancing highlights. Junior thinks shampoos on the whole are a nuisance, but if it's got to be done, he'll take Fitch's saponified shampoo because it's so quick and easy to use. Yes, ladies, for a good all-around family shampoo, it's Fitch's saponified. Made from pure natural oils, this shampoo will not dry the hair or make it harsh-feeling. Fitch's saponified shampoo has been granted the Parents' Magazine commendation seal. When you buy shampoo, look for the bottle with the bright yellow label. Fitch's saponified coconut oil shampoo. And now we return to Rogue's Gallery with Dick Powell as private investigator Richard Rogue. I was a little worried about my futures. I stood there behind the cover of that piano and pumped lead at Marcel. But if I could get in a lucky shot, I knew I could put him away for the murder of George Grant and the arson job of the Matthews fur company warehouse. I'd hit him a couple of times, and his girl, Bernice Maxwell, was screaming at me to stop. But Marcel kept on trying to luck a shot into my anatomy. Don't move, you're the one at it. I've got plenty of lead here to stop you if you do. I'm gonna turn you both over to the cops, baby. Well, this guy will have to hang. Now, here. Yeah, time up. Use his necktie. Come on. He needs a doctor. Well, I'll call one as soon as he's secured. Come on, time tight now. He's bleeding to death. Shut up. Here now. Make my tie. Here, tie speed, tight. Top, aren't you, Rogue? What I'm mad, yeah. Oh, oh, yeah. Here's my gun, and here's the gun that's going to send your boyfriend to the chair. Now, you want to go with him, or do you want to tell me all about it? You mean I can still turn states' evidence? Were you mixed up in the murder? No. I don't know anything about that. You do about the arson deal, though, huh? Yes. Okay, baby. Now, start talking. Maybe I can get you a deal with the DA. I'll talk. I'll tell. I'll tell you everything. Well, she sang. Yeah, she sang plenty. And the words were music to my ears. When she was through singing, I tied her up, tight, and called homicide to tell her urban where he could pick up a murderer and an accessory before the fact. Then I told him where I'd be later. I called Flynn at the Fidelity Fire Insurance Company and told him to meet me at the home of Paul Matthews, owner of the Matthews Fur Company, in ten minutes. He did, and we went in together. The butler sort of unwillingly showed us into the study where Matthews was reading. I'm Richard Rogue, Mr. Matthews. The investigator? The celebrated investigator. Mr. Matthews, this gentleman with me is Mr. Flynn of the Fidelity Fire Insurance Company. How do you do? Well, I'm puzzled as to the purpose of your visit, gentlemen. Well, I'll un-puzzle you, Matthews. The fire at your fur warehouse was deliberate arson. Oh, why? Why, that's preposterous. It's a nice act, but no gold. We're not paying the claim, Matthews. We have absolute evidence. Let me tell you, Flynn. You made a deal with Marcel Jarnac, one of the West leading arsonists to start that blaze, Matthews. But you needed the loyalty of an old employee of yours, the manager of your warehouse, George Grant. Grant was an honest guy. So you and Marcel sicked a dame on him, a dame named Bertie Maxwell. Are you convinced now that I know what I'm talking about? No. I tell you I... Okay, then I'll give you some more dope. With Grant's help, you took all of the expensive furs out of the warehouse and filled it up with a lot of junk. And then Grant sopped it all down with the gasoline and touched it off. So you want the insurance on $160,000 with the minks and sables for burning a thousand dollars with a CAT scan? It was a swindle, Matthews. We're not paying the claim. The cops have the Maxwell woman, Marcel Jarnac, and a pasty-faced gunman who worked with him. They've all talked. You're through, Matthews. That's the police now, the homicide squad. Show them in, will you, Flynn? Sure. It's the end of the road for me, doesn't it, Mr. Rogue? Yeah, yeah, it sure does, Matthews. You know, amateurs like you shouldn't go around mixing up with professional crooks. That's right. Hey, hey, cut it out. Drop that gun. Matthews, hey! Hey, what's going on in here, Rogue? Ah, this guy, this Matthews, tried to commit suicide. I had to take the gun away from him. That's all I've been doing all day long. Is that living? Well, it was pasty-pusses gun that bumped George Grant. He and Marcel got the chair. Matthews and Bernie's Maxwell got 10 years apiece, and I got 10 grand reward money for cracking the case. Yeah, I really had a time of that $10,000. Went to Mexico. Mexico City, incidentally. Ah, la señoritas. Ah, muy simpática. Spent the month of January there. What a month of January. As soon as I get time, I'm going to write a book. You know what the title's going to be? I'm going to call it Lost January. Oh, dear. Incidentally, I hope you noticed that I didn't get my brains knocked out and make my regular visit to my alter-enemy, Eugor, tonight. What's the idea, Rogi? I missed you. Are you mad because I threw that petty dame off our cloud? No, Eugor. Oh, but look, Rogi, you made a reservation. On cloud number eight? I did not. Oh, yes, you did. You said it. I said what? You said, see you next week, Eugor. You said it. I heard you. Okay, okay. I've seen you. Good night, Medjit. Goodbye, Rogi. Say, Rogi, aren't you going to wish me a merry Christmas? Oh, sure, sure. Merry Christmas, Eugor. Merry Christmas, Richard. So long. Merry Christmas. Imagine that little dehydrated Santa Claus. Oh, well, I love everybody. And God blesses one and all. The coin of phrase. You know what I mean? This is Dick Powell again, ladies and gentlemen. Hope you'll be with us again next week at the same time. Thanks for listening. And merry Christmas, everybody. And now here's Jim Doyle. Don't forget to tune in again next Thursday. And, by the way, be sure to see Dick Powell's new RKO picture cornered at your local theater soon. And, as I was saying, tune in again next Thursday, same time, same station, when you will again hear Dick Powell as Richard Rogue in Rogue's Gallery. Remember, if dandruff is your problem, ask for Fitch's dandruff remover shampoo. Removes dandruff the first time it is used. Fitch's dandruff remover shampoo is the only shampoo whose guarantee to remove dandruff is backed by one of the world's largest insurance companies. This statement can be made by no other shampoo. Ask for Fitch's dandruff remover shampoo at your drug or toilet goods counters, barber or beauty shop. Fitch is spelled F-I-T-C-H.