 Transcribed. Listen to Herbert Marshall as the man called X. Wherever there is mystery, adventure, intrigue, in all the strange and dangerous places of the world, there you will find the man called X. It began in a modern hotel room in the city of Dar es Salaam, capital of the Tanganyika territory. And it ended deep in the primeval shadows of an African jungle when the mingled screams of beast and man put an end to the story of primitive terror. Moldavo, welcome you once again to Dar es Salaam, Buena Thurston. It was most kind of you to come. I got your message in Cape Town and took the next plane out. What seems to be the trouble, Moldavo? Moldavo is born too cheap to try to make his people civilized to bring them peace, health, education, God. And you've done it. The outside world is filled with people not half as civilized as yours. All this is no good, Buena, if the work comes to an end. Why should it? You have a son to carry on when you leave off? Moldavo's son is dead. Oh, I'm sorry. It is not for sorrow, Buena, because some of my people to drop the good book and pick up guns, crying to them to burn, to kill, to drive the white devil out of Tanganyika. So that's it. They're spreading their propaganda poison here too, like they live in China, Korea and the rest. How did your people get those guns? Who's been eating them on? Moldavo do not know. He knew only that when his son was killed he was carrying this. Hmm? A statuette with an elephant. Carved out of what is it, some brilliant blue stone. It is so that same blue elephant appear whenever there is violence. This worship by those of my people who now carry guns. They say it trumpets in the night calling for white man's blood. I see. That is why Moldavo call upon his good friend. Why Moldavo ask for help for his people. All right, Moldavo. I'll see what I can do. Since, Ken, wasting your time on some minor African uprising, you've got more important things to do. Chief, of all the metals vital to our defense effort, which one would you say we need the most of right now? Oh, that's easy. Cobalt. Every jet engine, every anti-tank shell needs cobalt. But what's that got to do with Tanganyika and blue elephants? The little statuette Moldavo gave me is carved out of pure cobalt oxide. The finest grade of ore I've ever seen. But that's impossible, Ken. There's no cobalt in Tanganyika, or at least we don't know of any. Well, if there is cobalt here, and it's being mined, and Uncle Sam doesn't know anything about it, well, staring up trouble with Moldavo's people could make a pretty good smoke screen. Yeah. Well, Chief? Let me know how you come out, Ken. You're absolutely certain of your facts, sir Robert. Of course I am, Mr. Thurston. As commissioner of the port, I can assure you that there is not one ounce of cobalt in all Tanganyika. No. No, Mr. Thurston, your theory about the native unrest simply will not hold water. Why not prove it for yourself? Be a weekend guest at my plantation near Cairoby. It's in the heart of the trouble area. Thanks, I will. There's a train leaving this afternoon. I'll have my niece, Jean Thompson, meet with the station, and I'll fly in later and join you. That sounds good. By the way, sir Robert, your plantation must be near some mineral deposits, isn't it? That's right, there's a mining district nearby. What made you ask? Paperweight on your desk. Huh? Paperweight? Yeah. This piece of mineral ore. Beautiful blue coloring. If you hadn't told me differently, I'd almost think it was cobalt oxide. I'll see you at your plantation, sir Robert. I'm afraid Uncle Robert asked you to visit the plantation at Robert in opportune time, Mr. Thurston. Why is that, Mr. Thompson? We've been having some difficulty with abandoned tribesmen. These jungles are pretty dangerous at the moment. Yes, I have noticed the gun you're wearing. When we've killed enough of those beggars, they'll see the light and settle down again. You make it all sound pretty direct and primitive. Life out here is direct and primitive. It's a lesson you'd better learn if you care to survive. A threat, Miss Thompson? Friendly advice. And I would suggest... Pull off the road. Pull off the road. Thanks for grabbing the wheel, Ken. I'm afraid I was rather frozen with surprise for a moment. I suppose we get out of here before our trigger-happy friend checks up on the results. Yes, there might be a possibility. Listen. Who in this way? Over here. Here. This brush will keep us hidden. Not far enough. Get his gun, Ken. I have him covered. His gun? Covered, but... Well, hello, Mr. Thurston. Oh, for pay gone. Good strike, Mr. Thurston. What the devil are you doing here? And with that elephant gun? What a question. I'm hunting blue elephants, Natch. That's right, Mr. Thurston. After I bumped into Motawa and told him where he could reach you, I came out here. Hunting for blue elephants? Or waiting for me to show up so you could chisel a few bucks? Well, you know how it is. Yes. I'm afraid that I don't. Who fires those shots if you didn't? Who knows? Somebody always shooting at him. Bullets go for him like honey goes to magnets. I'll try to figure that one out later. At least we've arrived at the plantation without any permanent damage. What happened to the windshield of this great jean? Flying too low and running into a flock of buzzards? It was a buzzard, all right. The humankind, George, was something like a 375 magnum wind chester loaded for elephant. You're kidding. You wouldn't have thought so if you'd been along with us. Oh, George, this is Ken Thurston. Ken, George Gilmore, one of our neighbors. And I, Mr. Piggins. Hello, Gilmore. Glad to know you, Thurston. You must be the man with the cobalt theory. What do you know about it? Only what Sir Robert told me. Uncle Robert, is he here? No, but he radioed in from his plane, left a message for Thurston. What was it? He said for you to hold on to your hat until he gets here. He found something that proves your theory. You were right about the cobalt oxide. That's your theory about this Bantu business, Thurston. You think it's a cover-up for a cobalt play of some kind? That's about it, Gilmore. That's ridiculous. There's no cobalt in Tanyangika. Sir, I'll just, George, you should know that. Well, I do, Jane. Or I did, until Thurston showed me this. But this blue elephant is pure cobalt oxide, nothing else but. That doesn't prove a thing. Why not let the man who knows settle the argument for it? Sounds like Sir Robert's coming in now. You're right. Pretty dark out. How are the landing lights on the script? More than adequate. There. See the script? Yeah. And there's something wrong with those lights. Wrong? The script? Don't those lights run right into the grove of palm trees? Holy smoke, you're right. If he follows him, he'll overshoot the field and then right in the middle of it. Thurston! He's seen the trees! He is pulling up! He'll make it! He's got to make it! He'll... They can't help it now. That's a terrible way to die. Terrible accident. Jane, it was murder. Murder? Yeah. The landing lights? Some auxiliary lights must have been deliberately misplaced to cause that crash. Why would anyone want to do such a thing? Stop him from telling me what he'd learned about Cobalt. Guessing, Thurston? I might be if it wasn't for this. Found it lying back there on the runway. Ken! That... That thing! Yes. Another blue elephant. We'll return to the man called X in just a moment. Friends, there's no way of making him appeal to tornadoes. I can only appeal to you. Tornadoes, which recently swept through six southern states, hospitalized 696, affected 2,433 families, destroyed 1,007 homes, and damaged 1,348 homes. The Red Cross has made an initial allocation of $1 million for immediate emergency relief, and that is just the beginning. So great is the need that your Red Cross has increased its $85 million fund goal by $5 million. So, give the hand of the good neighbor. Answer the call, and give generously through your American Red Cross. Two of the man called X starring Herbert Marshall, with Leon Balasco as Pagansel Schmidt. Deep in the primitive jungles of the Tanyaimika territory, renegade Bantu warriors are taking up arms against the white plantation owners. And Ken Thurston believes it's a deliberate screen for some kind of illegal traffic in one of the most vital of all defense metals, cobalt. And then, Sir Robert Morstan is murdered in a crash landing shortly after he'd radioed that he could prove Ken's theory. The Bantu, they killed him. They want to take these plantations away from us before. They killed him. Cobalt had nothing to do with it. I'm afraid that cobalt elephant I found in the runway says different to Gene. No. The Bantu's murdered him. And I'll kill the one who did it. You hear me? I'll kill him. Easy, Gene. Easy. What you need right now is a good night's sleep. Sleep? After what just happened? If you were even half a man, you'd take this gun away from me and go out after those filthy killers. Please, Gene, try to calm down. A tooth for a tooth? That's the law of the jungle. Only you would know about that, would you? All you care about is rubbing in that no-good silver mine of yours. All right, Gene, all right. Now, let's get back to the house. I didn't know your business was silver mining, German. That's right. I got a little mine on the railway spur about ten miles east of here. And I know what you're thinking. Cobalt and silver are usually found together. Well? I only wish it were true. If you're getting rich instead of starving to death on the low-grade ore, I'm shipping out a... One assistant. That you, Motavo? Motavo. I have things to talk about with you. I would like... Motavo, he's the ban-true leader. He's the one who murdered my uncle. Now it's my turn. Put down the gun, Gene. I'll kill him! You hear me? I got a kid. It's no wonder after what she's been through. Yes. Can you get her back to the house? Yeah, sure. You two can talk. I'll take care of her. Sorry, Motavo. She's pretty upset. She doesn't know what she's doing. I don't know things of one. I think white ladies try to kill me because I know. Because you know what? She is one who gives guns to the ban-true so they can kill her own people. They come from Dar es Salaam on railroad today. The labels say farm machinery. The address to Mr. Gene Thompson. Most implantations, Kyroby. The lid is free on this one. Rifles, grenades, sub-machine guns. If you so, the white lady bring guns to my people. She has caused them to forget the way of peace. She killed my son. Wait. Someone is coming. Quiet now. Don't shoot, don't shoot. Oh, fuck. It is the strange one I get. Strange one? How do you like that? The only thing strange is why Mr. Thurston keeps on jumping out at me all the time. All right, Pagon. Why'd you ship those guns here in Gene Thompson's name? Who shipped what guns and whose name? And I didn't have nothing positively to do with it. Why not? This one, he shipped those guns? Sure. I couldn't miss the handwriting on those labels. It's forgery, Mr. Rex. I swear by father and my father. And besides, they don't really belong to me. I only got them on consignment. It's a sort of... What? No, sure. When Multava told me somebody was shipping guns up here, I figured I might go get into the act. So I sent this stuff here and charged it to that Gene Thompson cookie. Oh, you would have my people kill and be killed so you could reap a harvest of gold. Yes. No, no, no. I didn't want nobody killed. I only wanted to make a couple of past couple of bucks. Mr. Rex, please. It's all right, Multava. No harm's been done. We'll see if this stuff is sent back. The strange one should be punished, Buona. Don't worry, he will be. He's going to work. Oh, sure, don't worry. I will be. I'm going to work. Yes. Looking for cobalt in a silver mine. It's longer to have to stay down here, Mr. Rex. That George Dilmer could shoot us for trespassing on private mines or something. Take it easy, big girl. We're not doing any damage. But we've been down here a couple of hours already. What are you looking for anyway? Oh, not what I've been finding. What's that? Low-grade silver ore. Just what Gilmore said he'd been shipping out of here. Come on. Hey, hey, you're going the wrong way. It's an old-fashioned abandoned shaft. Back this way. I want to take one around and look at it before... Oh, watch it. Dilmer would shoot us or something. Let's get out of here, Mr. Rex. Not before I find out who it is. All right, Pagan. You can open your eyes now. Rex. Yes. Oh, but what it can be? He's already dead. Burned up in that airplane crash. Then he died twice. Yes. Sir Robert Moreston. I'm sorry, Ken, but I just don't grasp it. How could my uncle be dead in George's mind when we saw him die in that plane crash? Simple, Gene. He wasn't in that plane. You think his pilot flew it in here alone? After dropping Sir Robert off at my silver mine? It's the only explanation that makes sense. But why should Uncle Robert want to visit George's mind at that hour? Well, that's pretty obvious. He was looking for proof to bolster Thurston's cobalt theory. Apparently they both suspect that I was mining this stuff. Then why did you kill him, Ken? Sir Robert had been dead at least an hour before we found him. Someone else fired those shots in the mine. Any idea who it was? I found a gun beside the body, this one. Recognize it, Gene? Well, of course. It's mine. But I didn't kill my uncle if I only shot at you. I swear, Ken. Maybe the authorities at Daris Salam will believe you. The authorities? There's a train leaving in an hour. I think you'd better be aboard. Well, I guess we got this man all washed up. Hey, Mr. Rex? Not quite, Pagan. But surely you turned over the Gene Thompson to the flat foot. What else is there to worry about? There's no matter of cobalt. Huh? Here's the ship. The Abdul Akbar. So it's a ship. So what? So she's taking on a load of silver ore. Look up there. Hey, look at that. That railroad car is filled with rocks. And it's tipping over us. It's supposed to tip like that. It is? Hey, that's right. That guy pulled the Tegama jig and the whole thing tipped silver. Yes, and the ore rolls down that metal chute into the ship's hole. What is that, Mr. Rex? Whatever would they think of next? Suppose we find out. Hmm? By paying a little visit to the hold of the Abdul Akbar. Look at all that stuff, Mr. Rex. Must be enough silver in here to build a queen suit. It's plenty of valuable, all right, but it's not silver. Cobalt oxide. But you said they were unloading silver ore. That's the way they clear those ore cars for export, yes. And there was silver ore on the top layer of those cars. But all the rest of the load was cobalt oxide. That's how they've been getting it out of Tanganyika. Shipping it behind the iron curtain. And to think that that sweet little sugar-plum Jean Thompson was behind all that. She doesn't have anything to do with it. She didn't. But you tossed her in the clean. That was a cover-up. It was time to get the goods on the one really responsible. And it worked. Didn't it, Gilmore? Gilmore? All right, Tyson. You won't live long enough to prove anything. All right, sir. Oh, this man ought to dump any more cars. Look up there. At the control lever. Mr. Rex. It's Motavo. Yes. The law of the jungle, Pagan. A tooth for a tooth. But when you come right down to it, take a look at Gilmore and then a look at Motavo and... Oh, well, it's not too tough to know which one is really civilized in. Now, here's our star, Mr. Herbert Marshall. Thanks for being with us. And my thanks to Lorine Tuttle, Will Wright, Daniel Hurley, Paul Freese, and Harry Bartell. Next week, a Maverick skier. A bottle of germ culture and a sultry blumette. Plunge ten firsts into a situation that can mean only one thing. Death. That might mean death for you. And for once there'll be help from Pagan Zillsmith. Alias Leon Balasco. So join us, won't you, when next I return as The Man Called X. Good night. The Man Called X starring Herbert Marshall is a J. Richard Kennedy production with music by Milton Charles. Tonight's transcribed story was written by Sydney Marshall. This program is directed by Jack Johnstone. All characters and incidents on this program present any resemblance to actual characters or incidents is purely coincidental. And now until next week, same time and station, this is Hal Gibney saying good night for The Man Called X. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.