 To save both time and money in waxing floors, use economical no-rubbing aero wax. Just apply it and at six to nine minutes it drives itself to a hard lustrous finish that saves countless scrubbings. Makes dingy floors shine like new. Yet aero wax costs only 25 cents a pint. Try aero wax A-E-R-O-W-A-X tomorrow. Mr. Keen, tracer of lost persons, is on the air. Ladies and gentlemen, the makers of colonel's toothpaste present Mr. Keen, tracer of lost persons. One of the most famous characters of American fiction, and one of radio's most thrilling dramas. Tonight and every Thursday night from 7.30 to 8.00 Eastern wartime, the famous ol' investigator will take from his files and bring to us one of his most celebrated missing persons cases. But first, for bright sparkling teeth, a million-dollar smile tries a new colonel's toothpaste. It's a high-polishing toothpaste that acts like a jewelous polish removing tarnish from silver. Safely, speedily, it whisks away dingy surface stains that cloud your smile and reveals the full natural brilliance of your teeth. Get the new high-polishing colonel's at any drugstore tonight. Ask for a colonel's toothpaste, K-O-L-Y-N-O-S. Now for Mr. Keen and the case of the boy who used big words. Our story opens in the reception room of Mr. Keen's office as Miss Alice talks with an unusual visitor, Jimmy Harmon, who's only 12 but wears horned rim glasses and a very serious manner. Young man, you say you want to see Mr. Keen at once? Yes, ma'am, I've got to. Well, he's a very busy man. I know, but the nature of my business is very imperative. Important, you mean? Imperative. That's big words. What's your name? Mr. Harmon, Junior. And what's yours, if I may ask? You may, and it's Miss Alice. I like you, Miss Alice. You have a trustworthy face. Now, now, Jimmy, you wouldn't be trying to get around me. Oh, please, Miss Alice. I've heard so much about Mr. Keen and I know he's the only man who can help me. He'll be with what? Well, that's very confidential. Well, he's talking at the moment with his assistant, Mike Clancy, but I'll see what we can do. Come along, Jimmy. Thank you, Miss Alice. Oh, Mr. Keen. Yes, Miss Alice? This young man, Jimmy Harmon, insists upon seeing you. Good morning, Jimmy. Good morning, Mr. Keen. I'm afraid I'm rather busy. I know, but he says the nature of his business is very imperative. Imperative? What in our nation is that, Fresh White? Come over, Jimmy. Sit down. Mr. Keen, you're a gentleman. Thank you. Yeah, I guess you won't be needing me. Suppose I introduce you to my assistant, Mike Clancy. I'm pleased to meet you. I've heard about you, too, Mr. Clancy. Very reliable, they say. Well, thank you, my boy. Now, Jimmy, you haven't come here because any member of your family has disappeared, have you? No, Mr. Keen. It's just the opposite. We can't get rid of him. Of who? Of my uncle, Bill Harmon. Your father's brother? That's right. You see, Mr. Keen, he came to visit us. Oh, approximately six months ago. You mean about six months ago? Approximately. Well, Uncle Bill was only supposed to stay for a week or two, but he's been staying on and on. What I don't like, well, the very first night he sat down on the parlor in a nice, big, soft chair that's always been father's. I went up to him, and I said, Uncle Bill, that's where father always sits. Yeah? Well, he works very hard, and he needs that chair to relax him. Yeah? Don't you think you ought to get up? Hey, Jimmy, why don't you just go and chase yourself? Well, have your parents objected, Jimmy? You can't object with a man like Uncle Bill. There's something more, Mr. Keen. Yes? His eyes are too close together, and he doesn't have much back to his head. Really? Yes. I made a study of that. It's a sign of bad character. Now, take Mr. Clancy's skull. Mr. Lowe, I thank you to leave my skull alone. Well, I only wanted to say that your skull shows signs of excellent character. Well, now, that's different. Jimmy, this is all very interesting, but... Wait, Mr. Keen. There's something more. Well... I mean the man in black. What man in black? Well, I was walking on Fifth Avenue one day with Uncle Bill. When this individual suddenly came out of a side street. Black suit, black derby, and black overcoat. He walked up to Uncle Bill and said... Hello, Harman. Huh? Clancy meeting you. Oh, hello. Didn't ever expect to run into me again, did you? Look, I can explain everything. No, I don't think you can. I swear, the way it happened... It happened the wrong way for you, Harman. Wait a minute. I can square myself. I can... Taxi! Hey, Taxi! Come on, Jimmy, hop into that calf. And so your uncle suddenly ran away from this man in black. Yes, Mr. Keen. And now I have a feeling that something terrible is going to happen. You've got to help me get Uncle Bill out of our house. Jimmy, did your parents know you were coming here to see me? Well, no, sir. I didn't tell them. I'm afraid I don't really have any right to interfere. Well, this is a dangerous situation, Mr. Keen. Well, the kid's been to too many movies, boss. Mr. Clancy, I resent that remark. I may be only 12 years old, but I'm not a child. Sure, sure. Well, Mr. Keen? Jimmy, much as I understand your dislike for your Uncle Bill, I'm afraid this is a matter for your parents to handle. But, Mr. Keen... I hope you'll drop in again someday when I have a little more time. Will you do that? All right, Mr. Keen. But I know something is going to happen. Something terrible! Mr. Keen, now if you'll just sign those letters. Letters? Oh, yes, yes. Oh, perhaps it's minded today. Something bothering you? I've been thinking about the visit we had yesterday from that strange little boy. Jimmy Harman? Oh, he was just scaring himself. Jimmy has a wisdom and perception far beyond his years. Hmm, imagination too. Now, here are the letters. Ten and ink. Boss, Mr. Keen. Look, Mike, why so excited? Well, I bought myself an evening paper on the way to the office here. And the first item that hits me, I... ...since preservice. There, there on the bottom of page one. Please, sir. Man killed in auto accident. Boy vanishes. Good heavens, that doesn't mean... Police will left battle today by an obvious hit-and-run accident early last night on Madison Avenue, which claimed the life of William Harman, 44 of 3,000 East 89th Street, where he was staying at the home of a brother. The dead man, found lying in the roadway, had gone walking with his young nephew, James Harman Jr., H-12. But there has been no sign of the boy since the accident. Police are investigating. What happens above? Hand me my hat and coat, Mike. I must talk to Jimmy's parents at once. Oh, yes, Mr. Keen. We knew Jimmy admired you, but we didn't know he'd been to see you. He didn't tell you, Mrs. Harman? No, Mr. Keen. He always used to say that if anybody ever disappeared, you'd be sure to find him. Well, Mr. Harman, more than ever, I hope I can justify Jimmy's faith in me. He's a splendid boy. So serious and so good. A sweet little owl. The way I blame myself for this. As I've told you, Jimmy had certain premonitions. Well, I don't know that that had anything to do with it. We talked to Lieutenant Walker. Of the Missing Persons Bureau? Yes. He's an old friend of mine. What was his theory? Just a hit-and-run case. And he thinks that maybe Jimmy became unnerved at the sight of blood and ran away. Or else... We hate to think of it. Or else that Jimmy was also hurt and the driver maybe took him to some hospital and left him there. What do you think, Mr. Keen? I need more facts. Now, what can you tell me about your brother, Mr. Harman? Well, Bill is my brother and I don't like talking bad of the dead. He moved in six months ago and just wouldn't move out again. What was his occupation? Occupation? I wouldn't much know. I hadn't seen him in ten years. Doesn't this, he said? He talked about big deals sometimes. He said he'd made a lot of money out west. What was he supposed to be doing in New York? Looking for some opportunity to invest. And that's all you know? I wish we could do something more to help you, Mr. Keen. You're so kind to drop everything like this and go hunting for Jimmy. To me, it's the most important case of my life. Well, I'll have to go now. The Missing Persons Bureau is my next stop. Thank you, Mr. Keen. God bless you. You see, Lieutenant Walker, it just happened. The boy came to my office yesterday to tell me that strange story. I certainly appreciate the tip, Mr. Keen. It makes it more than just a hit-and-run accident. I'm very much afraid so. You don't mind my stepping into the case, Lieutenant? No, no. Glad to have you. About the boy, I presume you're in touch with all the hospitals? Yes, it's still possible he was also hurt. The driver was soft-hearted enough to want to get him to a doctor. Yes. There weren't any witnesses to the accident or whatever it was? No, no one. No, excuse me. Lieutenant Walker speaking. Oh, yeah, Martin. You got a pretty good set of prints? Well, thanks anyhow. Bad news, Lieutenant? Funny news, Mr. Keen. I was a man at the Moor. Jeepers have had two billion people in the world and they all got fingerprints. Now, just when it would help to know... This man has no fingerprints? Not a trace. You mean his fingertips have been mutilated? Yep, the old gag. All ten fingers badly burned and healed over the scars. Yes, that is news. Clear as day. He was an old mobster who did it deliberately to cover up his record. Well, maybe he did once have an accident. No, no, no, no. Now he belonged to a mob. One way or another, we're up against a stone wall. Even his own brother knows nothing about him. Well, Mr. Keen, only one thing left to do. Stand out on nationwide alarm for the kid, Jimmy. So if you'll excuse me now... I'm running along anyhow. No fingerprints. Who was he anyhow? What was he hiding? And so the case takes a baffling turn for Mr. Keen, tracer of lost persons. Meanwhile, thousands of girls who suffer the heartache of being unpopular, clever, pretty, smartly dressed girls have just one thing to blame, teeth that rob them of charm when they smile. Thousands of men whose livelihood depends on selling themselves to others have the same weakness of appearance to blame. They don't know it or notice it, but the people they contact do. You may or may not be one of those people, but if you have the slightest suspicion that you are, try the new colonnath toothpaste, a high-polishing toothpaste. You'll find colonnath helps remove those dingy, unattractive surface stains from your teeth. Brings out all the natural lustre and brilliance that adds so much to your smile. Start using the new colonnath tonight. Remember, it's a high-polishing toothpaste. You can get colonnath, K-O-L-Y-N-O-S, colonnath's toothpaste at any drugstore. Now back to Mr. Keen as he returns once more to the home of Jimmy's parents. See, Mr. Harmon, Mrs. Harmon, the one important thing right now is to get back in the dead man's past. Well, I've shown you every blessed thing that was in his room, Mr. Keen. Not one single paper there to give us a lead. One moment. Do you recall anybody who may have phoned him regularly? Well, no, come to think of it. Yes, Mrs. Harmon. The one person I ever knew Bill to have anything to do with, it was last week. Mr. Benson phoned him here two or three times. Benson? Any idea who he was? Or where he might be reached? See, I remember once that Bill wasn't in and Mr. Benson left a message where to call him back. Where? Try to remember. It may be very important. A hotel it was. It's a funny name, like that man in England. What man? Lord somebody. He has to do with rationing. It was the only way I remembered. Oh, Wilton? That's it. The Hotel Wilton. What are you looking for, Mr. Benson? That's right, Clerk. You wouldn't have his first name. I'm afraid not. All I know is that he was registered here last week. I looked through these files. Yes, we had a Harley-Pinson. Good. Is he still in the hotel? No, checked out yesterday. Yesterday. All the bad luck. Did he leave any home address with you? Just Chicago. That's a very big city. There's just a chance he might be in the Chicago telephone book. Would you find the out-of-town phone books on the end of the counter there? Thank you. Find it, sir? Yes, here it is. Thank you. Benson. Any luck, sir? No. No. No Harley-Benson. I'd rather imagine he wouldn't be in the phone book anyhow. Well, sir, if there's anything more I can do... Yes, there is. You keep records, of course, of all long-distance phone calls, be your guests. Oh, yes. Would you mind showing me Benson's? Explain my right to ask. My name is Keen. I'm a tracer of lost persons. I'm now looking for a 12-year-old boy, Jimmy Harmon, who has disappeared. Oh, yes. I read all about it in the papers. Let me see the bill filed right here, Mr. Keen. Here's Benson. He made several calls. Did he call Chicago? Yes, sir. Three times. His only long-distance call. And the number he phoned? Here you are, sir. The same all three times. Thank you, clerk. That's all I need to know. This is the house that Benson phoned through from New York. Didn't expect this. It says prettier cottage as I've ever seen. Well, I've known gangsters to hide out in stranger places. All right. Strike a match now, Mike. Let's see the name on the doorbell. It says Malcolm Eugen. It's in Ailes. I'm sure it's Benson. And that Benson is that man in black that Jimmy talked about, possibly. Well, let bust right in and face it. You out there. Anything you want? Well, you see, we... I see you through the window, prowling around the dark. Indeed you did, Benson. How'd you know my name? That's a long story. I've come all the way from New York to talk with you. Though I didn't expect to find you under the name of Dugan. Dugan's a cousin of mine. I board here. May we come in? Sure. Why not? Now then, my name is Keen. See, not the detective. That's right. This is my assistant, Mike Clancy. Okay. What's next? What do you know about Bill Harmon? Bill Harmon? A gunman, huh? Trigger man for one of the Chicago mobs. Alkyracket. Or was it dope? Or maybe black market? And you did him in. Oh, wait a minute. Clancy, back up. All right. Tell us in your own way. Harmon ain't no monster. He was the same as what I still am. And what's that? A prison guard in the Lakeshore Penitentiary. A prison guard? A prison guard until five years ago when he quit. I didn't hear a word from him until I was in New York on vacation last week and ran into him on the street. On the street. You get that, boss? One second, Mike. Benson, are you in the habit of wearing black suits and overcoats? Me? You think I'm an undertaker? Well, now, when you ran into Harmon, he'd tell you what he was doing. Salesman, he said, we had a couple of beers together two or three times. He didn't talk much. Tell me, was there any special reason why he left his job at the Penitentiary? No, just quit. What were his duties? Same as me, garden the death house, and come to think of it. Yes? There was something a little funny in his quitting. He did it just a couple of hours before that big racketeer, Legs Mosley, was burned. Mosley? Oh, yes. And Harmon just walked out. Said he had enough executions. Well, it happens that way sometimes with the garden. Yes, I've heard. But now I remember something else. The minute Legs came out for his last walk to the chair, he asked for Harmon. Where's Harmon, he says? He's got to be here. He's always here. I said Harmon at a previous appointment. So Legs kept asking for him? Yeah, Mr. King. Think it meant anything? Tell me something else, Benson. Are there any members of the old Mosley mob still in the Penitentiary that I could talk to? No, not a one. Tell you what, though. There is a guy in the Pen, a lifer, who was supposed to burn the same night with Mosley. He got reprieved to life. His name is Rayburn. Like to talk to him? You bet I would. The first thing tomorrow morning. Rayburn, I gather you're no gangster. No, Mr. King. I committed my murder over a woman. Well, as I've told you, I'm trying my best to trace a fine 12-year-old boy who's disappeared. Somehow the trail leads right here to the Penitentiary. How do you mean? It's too long a story to tell right now. There's only one question I want to ask. Yes, sir. Why did Bill Harmon suddenly quit his job as a guard in the death house a few hours before Mosley's execution? Well, you see... And why didn't Harmon have the nerve to go into the death chamber that night to see him executed? Mr. King, I don't want to get anybody in trouble. Don't worry about that. Harmon is dead. The question now is to try to save the life of an innocent boy. Well, why did Harmon quit? Well, because... Because he welched on a bargain. Welched? How? Well, while Legs Mosley was waiting to burn, some of his gang reached Bill Harmon and made a proposition. They would pay him 20 grand if he would help spring Legs from the death house. The brains of the plan was a fella called Blackie. Blackie? Well, they called him that because he always dressed in black. Blackie Westley. Yes, right on. Well, the way I got the story, Harmon agreed. But he wanted some of the money in advance. So they gave him $10,000 and he would get the rest after Legs was over the wall and free. I knew all about it because they were going to let me walk out the same time. But Harmon never carried out his crooked bargain. No, Mr. King. Talk of crooks out crooked each other. He took the 10 grand and beat it. Legs died in the chair. I got a reprieve. But that's ancient history, isn't it? Yes, ancient history that suddenly came back to life. Thank you, Raymond. Why, sure, boss, it's as plain as day now. Blackie Westley and the other members of the old mob killed Harmon for revenge. Yes, and abducted Jimmy because he had once seen Blackie before and was in the position to identify him to the police. Right. Now the next step. We phone Lieutenant Walker in New York and ask him to send out an alarm. For every member of the old Mosley mob. No, Mike. Just for Blackie Westley. And why just for Blackie? To start a civil war. Boss, I don't get it. You know the old saying, when thieves fall out, honest men get their due. Mike, that's the only way of getting Jimmy safely out of the hands of those gangsters. Oh, psychology stuff. Right. Let's phone Walker now and then get back to New York. The hoodlum they call Blackie. Next on that hoodlum stuff. Well, that's what you are. When are you going to let me out of the cellar? When I feel like it. Get back there or I'll slap you. That's better. Look, for I've brought your sandwich out of the kindness of my heart. I don't want your sandwich. Why are you keeping me here? Of course you're too darn smart, Professor. You saw us bump off your dear, dear uncle. I'll let you go to the cops to take you to headquarters and identify my picture. Just what I thought. You're one of those habitual criminals. Shut up. I'm telling you that from the shape of your ears and the index of your cranium. Stop that highbrow stuff. My cranium's all right. Where is this place you're keeping me? A warehouse. A lot nearer your home plate than you think. I'm sick of it. It's cold. You stay right here till the noise dies down. Go on. Get back. Get back or I'll smack you. Take your hand off me. Let me go. You slapped me right in the face. You locked my glasses off. That's only a sample. Let me out of here. Let me go. Hey, dear Montana. Look here. I was just outside and got a newspaper. So what? Me and the others are scramming out of here. Why? Look at this paper. The front page. Let me see. I thought it was covered up the whole way. You ain't, but we are. No, no, wait a minute. We're a hot, blackie, hottest fire. The whole town's looking for you. So the rest of us is taking the car and scramming. Because we're still in the clear. You're not walking out on me. You're staying right here. If we burn, we burn together. Not in your life, Blackie. Okay, maybe this'll teach you. I'm sick to think of Jimmy in the hands of those gangsters. He's a bright boy, Mrs. Harmon. We can count on him handling himself intelligently. Besides, Mother, the police are hunting everywhere. Yes, but they might take weeks and still not find him. I'm sorry, Mrs. Harmon. I've done my best. Now it's only a question of letting nature take its course. Nature? But Mr. King knows men are killers. That's exactly what I'm counting on. You see? Oh, the door. Now go and see. Just remain calm, Mother. Jimmy. Oh, Jimmy. Oh, Jimmy. Thank God you're back again. Oh, Mother. Hello, Dad. Oh, darling, did those men hurt you? Are you all right? Well, just a little hungry. Relax, everybody. Oh, Jimmy, we're just about crazy with worry. Where were you? In a warehouse in Brooklyn. How did you ever get away from there? In a police car. Thanks to Mr. King. I guess you'd like to know what happened, Mr. King. Yes, Jimmy, I certainly would. Well, just about an hour ago, I was locked in the cellar. But I heard an argument start. The rest of the gang wanted to run away without Blackie. Suddenly, they were shooting all over the place. And the police came a little later. They were all dead or dying, like the kill Kenny Cat. Good hip. You see, Mr. King, they didn't have much loyalty to each other. Yes, Jimmy, that's exactly what I was counting on. Mr. King, Lieutenant Walker told me how you did it while he was driving me back. Psychology, that's what you call it. Whatever it was, Mr. King, you saved Jimmy's life. How can we ever thank you? My own happiness is rewarding up. Mr. King, there was something I wished to request of you. Yes, what's that? Well, when I go up, may I have a position in your organization? Well, Jimmy, I never had a higher compliment from anybody. Of course you may. This and next week at the same time when Mr. King brings us the fascinating case of Mr. Trevor's secret. Today, the girl, a woman who wants to be popular, knows that one of her most important assets is a charming smile and teeth that sparkle and gleam. Knows that no matter how smartly she may dress or make up, teeth that are dingy and discolored looking instantly create an unfavorable impression. And the same is true of the man in business whose very livelihood depends on selling himself. He knows how quickly discolored looking teeth can bring failure. That's why today thousands of smart and successful men and women are changing to the new colonos, high polishing toothpaste. So for your own sake, try the new colonos toothpaste yourself. It works like a jewelous polish on tarnished silver. It helps remove dull, dingy surface stains, revealing the natural brilliance and sparkle of your teeth. Ask for colonos toothpaste, K-O-L-Y-N-O-S, at your drugstore tonight. You've been listening to Mr. King, Tracer of Lost Persons. On the air at a new time every Thursday night, 7.30 to 8, Eastern wartime over this network. Don't miss Mr. King next Thursday night when the kindly old Tracer turns to the case of Mr. Trevor Secret. This is Larry Elliott saying good night for the makers of colonos toothpaste and inviting you to listen to Friday on Broadway at 7.30 p.m. Eastern wartime over most of these stations tomorrow night.