 Personal notice, dangerous my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Greetings, Mr. Lover. Time for another Let George Do An Adventure. I call it The Bookworm Turns, and it all goes to prove the old saying, Never bury yourself in a book unless you can fit on a five-foot shelf. It's all about an old fella with a problem, but I think I'd better let him tell it to you in his own words. My dear Mr. Valentine, I am the owner of a small bookshop. If you are familiar at all with rare editions, I am sure you will recognize my name, whole Jacob's Humber. Well, I need your advice. You've heard of bookworms, haven't you? Of Abraham Lincoln studying by candlelight. Of students rioting to keep libraries open so that men may learn. Well, for the past two nights, my shop has been broken into. But I simply can't bring myself to call the police because nothing is stolen. Not a book, not a penny from the cash register. So you must be with me tonight by ten o'clock. Because, Mr. Valentine, I believe I am being visited by the most ardent bookworm of them all. A man who jimmies a window merely for the purpose of reading my books. Yes, reading. But reading what? And why? You are listening to Let George Do It. Our adventure will continue in just a moment. Now back to Let George Do It and George Valentine. You certainly have enough books, Mr. Humber. Don't you ever sell any? Well, these racks go out in front when the shop is open. Six for a dollar, huh? We're trying to surprise anyone, it seems to me. Oh, no, he's never broken in this early. I've often stayed here myself till ten or eleven, Mr. Valentine. You've never seen the guy yourself, huh? Why do I say guy? What do you say he? Here, there's an aisle through here. Just follow me. I don't want to turn the lights on. Mr. Humber, why do you say... I am just guessing, that's all. Is that the window over there? No, no, no. The window on the other side of the stock room. Alley entrance, huh? Yes. Here, my office is in here. We can wait a while. You mean curl up with the book and wait all night? Oh, he'll be here. What in the... sounds more like a music store? Oh, come on. Hello, Hall. I've been waiting for... Oh. Rosa. I was just listening to some phonograph records. This is Miss Brooks, Mr. Valentine, Mrs. Kulich, wife of my assistant Otto here in the shop. She does some bookkeeping, too. Oh, how do you do? Hello. Hall, I don't know how to go uptown to see somebody. We live right next door at a little apartment. Mrs. Kulich doesn't have a phonograph in her apartment. We have records here, too. I understand. Well, she can join the party and help us. Mrs. Kulich isn't the bookworm type, is she? What? No, no. She wouldn't be the one... I mean, she has her own keys. Why is all this... Oh, I mean, the way, aren't I, Mr. Humber? It's something I didn't mention. That's all, Rosa. Are you married, Mr. Humber? Oh, no, no, no. I'm not, but... Shh. Well, excuse me, now. I'll be leaving. Shh. Be quiet. Won't someone tell me what on earth? Stop it, stop it. You hear that, Valentine? It wasn't a car in the alley. I'm sure of that. It's from back someplace. It's a stock room. What are you listening for? Will you please... Come on, come on, through here. Little early, though, isn't it? For your bookworm to arrive. There. There, you see it? A light. Yeah, flashlight. Get out of the way. Get him! Get him! Get home, Mr. Humber. I thought you saw... I saw the shade on the door glass, blowing that saw. But the door's been forced, all right. Still open. He's already gone. He must have heard us. Yeah, looks that way. He ran out and down the alley. You see it is true, Mr. Valentine, every night. Get the light switch. Oh, yes. But look around. Nothing is touched again. Nothing's ever touched. Here, you see? A new set of first editions just in from Boston. Not even disturbed. Mr. Valentine? Right here, Mr. Humber. That's where I saw the flashlight. What? Seems to be interested in old books, not new ones. Believe it or not, you're right here. He apparently was reading. This book is still open. Well, let me see you. What is it? Oh, what some power of the gifted gears to see your cells as either to see us. Robert Burns? Why should I know why anybody should like Robert Burns? My background is a printer, Mr. Valentine. Not the Oxford Book of English words. Okay, okay, Otto. I waited to see you because I thought you might have noticed something unusual. I am handyman, shelf-dust and salesman in the shop. Should I have time to notice anything? But three nights running, somebody's been breaking in here. To read books. To read books! What is wrong with that? What would you like? People should only watch television? Oh, now look, friend. I know I don't help you. My wife don't help you. It is late. I'm tired. But this Humber, my boss, don't you understand? He is what you call persecution with complexes. A what? Always and everything he sees a mystery. So somebody should break in to read. He should make something of this. Always make something of everything. Why should he worry? There is no damage, is there? No damage to his book. Alright, skip it, Otto. Skip it. You say nobody's up to anything, huh? No damage to Mr. Humber? Why worry? What do you mean? But Burns is the word, alright? Burns? Can't you tell a fire engine when you hear one? Now, what do you think that smoke's coming from? Come on, let's get out of here. Only nothing's been damaged, George. Somebody broke into Humber's store during the night and didn't steal anything. And now there's a fire, but nothing is damaged. Credit luck in the fire department for that agent. Water, water, just look at the water. What's the matter, Humber? We're on a few bindings. Oh, no, no. It isn't important. Only there's six for a dollar one. But Mr. Valentine, what is it? What's going on? Who is trying to do what to me? The bookworm who reads Burns certainly didn't start the fire, or it would have burned up my entire stock. No, George, the fire didn't actually start here. But it was aimed here. If the engines hadn't been so close... The place next door almost burned to the ground. That was the reason for the fire here. An old apartment? Yes, yes. Well, Rosa, not to live, but they don't own anything. There was no loss to anybody. Oh, no. It was here, alright. It was me that the fire was aimed. Only why? Mr. Humber, suppose you give me a chance to find out. Hey, Bruxy, there was a fire investigator here a minute ago. Let's find him. Yes, over there, George. But Mr. Valentine... I said I'll do it my own way, thanks. How are you? How are you, Mac? Hey, I want to talk... Oh. Are you addressing me, young man? I thought you were somebody else. Maharaja of Ranapur, perhaps? JP Morgan's ghost? Any law against my being me? Sorry. And what are you staring at, ma'am Zell? Didn't you ever see a shirt with no collar before? It's to display the hair on my chest naturally. Gray, quite unusual, don't you think? Okay, friend, skip it. No, George. You'll find the children's books on the next counter. What's that one you're looking at? What are you doing here? Georgie, porgy, pudding, and pie. What's it look like I'm doing? Taking a bath, naturally. Kiss the girls and say goodbye. Yeah, let me see that. Get your hands off me. It's a bookstore, isn't it? It's open for business. I'll say it is. It's wide open now. So the book you're interested in is Certain Poems by Robert Byrne. Yes, a book of Byrne's poems. I just picked it up. I suppose you're from the T.S. Eliot Protective League. What is all this? What is going on? George, it's the same book. I came here to buy this book. Any objections? No, no, friend. Just questions. Like, why? Ah, people. Look here, Edinburgh edition. The four dials press 1793. Yeah, that's an old edition, all right. A very authentic edition. A very rare one. Oh, so I see. Priced at $750. I didn't notice that before. Oh, it is quite valuable, Mr. Valentine. It turned up in a bunch of second-hand things out who picked up at auction. That's what is so peculiar. Why the bookworm didn't steal it. Wait a minute. I think it's even more peculiar how this man happened to know it was here. Yeah. How about that, friend? My name is Jess. Henry Jess, not friend. Not even to my enemies. Jess, the critic. Well, I salute you, Mr. Humber. Fame isn't it wonderful? Yes, yes. The man who sells his brain for a few dollars a month to sell a book magazine. Hey, hey, get back on the rails. Will you, I ask you a simple question. How I knew that book was here, a man told me, not a bird, a man. What man? Here. An envelope? No, no, no, no, not for you. For you, Mr. Humber. Oh. A man in my impicunious state will do anything for a commission. Even talk to the likes of you. I do buying once in a while for collectors so they can pretend that they know how to pick out the authentic items themselves. Yeah, but this guy's name. The man interested in this particular book. Why should I bother with his name? I don't know. Just a fat man, that's all. Don't ask me how he knew I'd find the addition here. I don't know that either. Emery Whitzel. What? His name. Just a note. Authorization saying he'd be willing to pay a... Give me that. Well, what's the matter, Mr. Jess? What's the matter with the name Emery Whitzel? Your client, isn't he? Nothing. Nothing. I didn't realize that was his name, that's all. Just a man who phoned and asked me to make the purchase for him. Look, I'm getting sick and tired of all this... Well, it is a perfectly legal authorization, Mr. Valentine. And you, too, Mr. Humber, you give me a case that's like a jellyfish. You can't grab onto it. The case of a bookworm, Mr. Valentine? Never mind. You're a little slippery yourself. But I've never heard of Emery Whitzel. Be quiet, will ya? It's this guy I'm talking to. That's fine. Otto! Hey, Otto. Otto, what's the matter? George, there's blood on it. Look, he's been shot. No, no, let go. I... Whitzel. What? A bookworm. Emery... Emery Whitzel. I take it all back, Mr. Humber. It's a case now, all right? Otto's dead. You're listening to Let George Do It. Our adventure will continue in just a moment. Now, back to George Valentine. Oh, at some power the giftigias to see ourselves as others see us. Yes, if your name is George Valentine, that's how your case started. Just a book of poems by Robert Burns. A valuable early edition from the four dials press in Edinburgh. A book that someone broke into Mr. Humber's shop just to read. A book that an agent wanted to buy for a collector named Emery Whitzel. And who is Emery Whitzel? Well, Lieutenant Johnson of Homicide has an opinion on that, because now it seems the little book may have been the cause of murder. And those were his dying words when I think Whitzel. Emery Whitzel, he tried to tell you. That's right, Johnson. Otto would have apparently been shot just a couple of minutes before, out in the street. And then came staggering in for help or to tell us... To tell you who did it, that Whitzel did it. Isn't that the usual interpretation? Yeah. Only who is Whitzel? Well, now you're asking something after. We'll find him, don't worry. Well, don't be too sure. It's like finding the bookworm would disappear at the minute we got close. You ask me, this guy, Humber, knows a lot more than he... Uh-huh. He's the one hired me. It's as much Greek to him as it is to us. Hey, Johnson, check up on that file. Will you how it started? What? How can you connect the file? I don't know. Just do it, will you? We've only scratched the surface of this thing so far. But we'll never get deeper unless we retrace what we already got. Like what you said, Bruxy, that the bookworm disappeared. No, he was in the shop last night, but he got away. Correction, Angel. He was scared away before we ever got a chance to see him. Isn't that what really happened? You mean all that phonograph noise and Rosa? Uh-huh. Hey, I wonder how she's feeling. Now that she's a widow. No. Please, leave me alone. I don't know anything. I'm... I'm sorry, Mrs. Coolidge, but you have to help us. I'm confused. Why were you in Mr. Humber's office last night in the first place? It wasn't just to listen to records, was it? Oh, I know what you were thinking, but it's not true. Yes, I like Mr. Humber. In some ways, he's been closer than Otto ever was. But you can't make anything out of it. Otto was my husband. But he's dead now. It's all over. So what's everybody hiding? Nothing. Just give me time. Let me think a little while. I'll give you two seconds to tell us who was in the stock room last night. What? When we heard him, you talked loud on purpose. You gave him a warning, a chance to get away. No, I didn't. Who was it, your husband? No. Is that what you're so upset about? Wondering whether or not you should be loyal to a dead husband? No, it wasn't Otto. I don't know who it was breaking into the store going through the old edition. You claimed your husband was uptown at the time, I remember, but I... Well, it's true. He was. I don't believe it. He was. I'm not lying. He was at the Bedford Hotel room 217. Wow. Well, now we're getting someplace. The Bedford Hotel, huh? It's the middle of the afternoon, friend. Come on, open the door. You got the wrong room. 217 Bedford Hotel. Come on, open up. So you can read. I'm impressed. Yes, and in about one minute I'll spell out the letters on a badge for you. Come on, come on. Dick Tracy badge? I'll get back in there. All right. No need to show off your vitamins. Looks like we hit pay dirt fast. Hey, Valentine. Yeah, I see what you mean, Johnson. Big fat guy. Answers that book agent's description, all right? Hey, what is this? What's this all about? You tell us, Mr. Whitzel. Wrong number. Now, look, wise guy, we're trying to find... Name is McGurk. Horace McGurk. And don't try to... Here's my line. A surprise for every party. Little Egypt. Watch your shimmy and shake. Exploding cigars. And if you want to shake hands instead... What? Smell a carnation on my coat. Only look out for it? Cut it out. Cut it out. Salesman, huh? Sure. Identification. See? Go on, I won't bite you. Horace J. McGurk. A sign. Novelies in New York, New York. So admit your mistake, boy. That's probably Mabel. I'll ask if she's got a couple of dumb friends for you. Hey, get away from that. Hello? Oh, yeah, yeah. Yeah, this is me. Go ahead. Oh, my God. A coincidence. Yeah, yeah. I got it. Thanks. My friend Mabel's a sergeant. I told him to phone here. Sergeant? I guess I wouldn't have enjoyed the day. If he got anything and he did... Well, let's have it, Johnson. ...record on Emory Whitzel. Oh, sure, sure. There's a record. There's such a guy, all right, or there was ten years ago... Yeah. ...in the phony book business in New York. Small world? That's my town. What else, Johnson? You mean phony book business? I mean like in forgeries, fakes for genuine. Like maybe that book back there in the shop, the Robert Burns? Who knows? But now, as for you, my friend... New York is such an intimate place. Just sit yourself down and relax, because ten years ago you would have been about the right age... Hold it, Johnson. To start fires, maybe. Huh? Yeah. You were in the lighter fluid business, too, McGurk, huh? Uh-huh, one, two, three, four, five, six cans... It's perfume. It's a gag, you dopes of novelties. I showed you my identification. What's a... Pume? Let me see what it smells like. Get away from that coat, McGurk. Excuse me, Johnson. Duck, you... Hot, be hot foot to your friend, solo! Holy smoke. Those shots came through the transom. Come on! Somebody been in the next room all the time. Officer, can you hear me? Got away down the hall. Fire escape doors open. McGurk's dead, all right. A Whitzel, whoever he is. Yes, I'll cover the other end. Just get that street closed off fast. No, no. How should I know who it was? Come on, Valentine. Why? To be five blocks behind, skip it. Besides, maybe the answer's right here. Huh? It's gonna McGurk's. He fired twice, but there's another shell missing. That could be the one that killed Otto. Looks like about the same caliber. What in the... Never mind. Just grab it for a lab check. Because there was lighter fluid in these cans, Johnson. Smell them. And an empty whiskey bottle on him. Sure, that's what he carried it in. It's empty, too. Okay, so your hunch was right. This guy started the fire, but it doesn't prove... Let's get back to the place where the fire was. I got an idea. Well, this is what's left of their apartment. Otto and roses. The fire really erected, didn't it? Yeah, so far the only thing to explain anything is a copy of Robert Burns. Two murders for 750 bucks. One at a time, Johnson. McGurk did the first one, right? Sure, sure. It looks like the bullet will check, all right. So somebody else did the second one. Brilliant. McGurk, Whitzel or whoever he was didn't kill himself. So it's 375 bucks for each murderer. Yeah, wait a minute. What's this? No, no, no. A piece of an old lathe, maybe. Hey, Bruxy. Yeah, I'm George. Any luck with Mrs. Cooleychette? Oh, she won't say anything until she's talked with Mr. Humber. Uh-huh. Never mind. You ever see a steel arm like this on a lathe? George, what on earth is that? Oh, here. Heavy wooden screw. Oh, what's left of it? Hey. Printing press. No, you're getting it. Old-fashioned small printing press. And Otto was a printer, wasn't he? Well, he had been in the past, I remember. Johnson, suppose Mrs. Cooleychette knew her husband was up to something that she didn't like. What? The phony book presses. And that means Humber and that other guy, Jesse, are tied right up with it. Take it easy. There was a bookworm, wasn't there? That person wouldn't have been tied up with Otto. Otherwise, why prowl around? George, you mean Otto was printing books? Oh, not money. It takes a long time. But sure, remember? Humber even told us Otto himself had picked up the copy of Burns at auction. Books, mugs, a lousy $700 worth of... Wait a minute, listen to me quietly. Just a car, wasn't it? Yeah. Hey, hey. Somebody get out and went in the shop there. Come on. So the bookworm is a sucker, huh? Coming back for the book. How about McGurk's room? I said the book was still in the shop. Well, that person in the next room, the one who killed him, also could have hurt us, check. But coming back to the place... Shh, wait a minute. Wait a minute. I want to check that truck. See the registration card. Well, it's McGurk's car. George, look in the back. Oh, no, no. Not another body. Box seven or eight foot long, just about the right size for a body. I hope you've figured yet what might be really valuable in this deal worth committing murder for. George, what are you talking about? Worth trying to get away from Otto and then having to kill him. Worth burning the apartment so people wouldn't know about the press. Here, here, give me a hand. Let's see what's inside this box. Type. Yeah. Loose type. That's right, old style print. Here, look at the funny capital, see? Sure, Johnson, it's type. Maybe one book is only worth $7.50, but think what a few hundred supposedly authentic books scattered in markets all over the world would be worth. Holy mackerel. Picking up for you now, isn't it? George. Oh, here, quick this way. Coming back again out of the store. Hold it, hold it. Must be able to see us now. Shh. You got comedy, friend. Be careful, that gun. Stay here. Kind of a dumb stunt, wasn't it? Coming back to get that one book so there'd be no record of what Otto's type look like. How are you so far in over your head anyway that... Stand still. Oh, gonna talk, huh? It's all right. I don't know who you are for sure. Otto tried to gasp out the name Emery Whitzel, but that didn't do us much good. Whoever it is uses a different name now. But then I thought of a poem which says to see ourselves as uniseous. Move back, I said. That's the car. It suddenly occurred to me, Otto wasn't trying to say who his killer was. He was just trying to talk to one of the two people there with me. I said... I'm moving now, just take it easy. Back from the car. You mean under the car because there's a cop to the right of you, Mr. Jess, who's about one second... Oh, excuse me. I guess it was to the left. Back to the conclusion of our Let George Do It adventure in just a moment. Yeah, Angel, it was a big time operation, all right, with a double cross for good measure. You see, Jess and McGurk had found out about that antique type that Otto had made. There's a hobby, maybe. I don't know whether Otto intended to use it crookedly or not. Perhaps he slipped in the copy of the Robert Burns to see how successful he was. But George, which one was the bookworm? Jess, of course. You don't think a guy like McGurk could have told a book from a racetrack sheet, do you? No, but why did Jess want to buy the book then? Because he was the brain, Angel. The other guy was the arm, but the arm double crossed him. You see, Jess thought he was going to run it real clever, but McGurk found he couldn't buy off Otto, so he shot him and stole the type and set fire to the place. Jess didn't even know about all that until he opened that letter right in front of us. To find that his partner had signed the name Witzel to it. He did it so Jess, who was really Witzel, would have to go into hiding again while McGurk walked off with a loop. Oh, nice people. So Jess turned into an arm himself and killed McGurk. I thought it was Mr. Humber and Mrs. Coolidge. To see ourselves as either see it it would for many a blunder frees. And foolish notion. Foolish notion to keep one's eyes on the emotions instead of the facts. Sometimes you can be the most egotistical. Rosa Coolidge loves that guy, Humber, but she was loyal to her husband. The most insufferable. Of course he doesn't make sense, but... Erogant. Conceded. Women in love seldom do. Why, you... Don't kill me, Angel. You wanted it explained, didn't you? Hmm. But I know a clue you don't. The name of that poem of Robert Burns you're so glib about. What's that? It's called to a louse. Good night, George. You have just heard the bookworm turns another Let George Do It adventure. Robert Bailey was starred as George Valentine with Virginia Gregor's Bruxy. David Victor and Jackson Gillis wrote the story with music by Eddie Dunstetter. Now this is yours truly inviting you to another visit with Valentine when you will again hear what happens when you Let George Do It.