 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, mystery lover. Time for another Let George Do It adventure. And if you're a music lover, you'll go for this one, I'm sure. It's called Solo in Whispers. And it's all about an opera singer whose basso was a little too profundo. So in order to quiet the lad, they gave him a mute, made out of lead. About three ounces worth. And you know something? It worked. Dear Mr. Valentine, really I do need your help to figure it out. Because it's rather the sort of thing that makes a man lose a lot of sleep. And at the age of 45, I find that sleep is almost as important as food. You see, I went to the gate this morning, our place is out in the country. And there was a messenger with a package and I signed for it. Nothing extraordinary there. And you'll probably think there's nothing extraordinary when you have to sign for a package along with this letter. Hey, what's this, Bruxy? A package? Uh-huh, it came with a letter. Oh, what's in it? Well, a record. I already unwrapped it. Anyway, Mr. Valentine... Phonograph record. Looks like a blank one from here. No, no, the other side, I guess, see? Oh, yeah. But it's still blank in the middle. It's still blank in the middle. Anyway, Mr. Valentine, I'd appreciate a call from you on the subject of why it is unnecessary to explain my whisper. Whisper? What's that? It's what? Well, that's what he says. Why it is unnecessary to explain my whisper. Oh, well, maybe it isn't his. It's in quotes, George. And that's all. Sincerely, Pietro Savio. Huh? Well, come on, come on. Play the record. Here we are. Okay. Pietro Savio, the man bothered by a whisper. You, too, can hear voices. You can hear horns and drums, too, if you got it bad enough. Sounds like he got his records mixed. Yeah, I've heard that. Come to the son, Rimsky-Korsakov. Angel, you should be on a quish. Only that's kind of a peculiar whisper, wouldn't you say? Maybe you just heard this played too much. It's too poppy. It's from an opera, George, La Coque d'Or. Not the only one I remember. I saw it twice. The whole? The Golden Cockroach by Rimsky-Korsakov. I know, so I'm getting an education, but I don't see what this... George, maybe Mr. Savio is bothered by a woman. He sounded like the type of woman. That's what the opera's about, I think. It's a fantasy. It's about a king who's given this magic golden rooster to watch over him and his kingdom, and he finally strikes down the king himself with its beak. How gay. I mean, she sings this song. She's the one who makes a fool out of the king. She really takes him over the ropes, and yet he won't give her up. Ah, it was ever thus. Nice melody, though, isn't it? Listen. We heard it all. Still no whisper. No. What on earth was he talking about? Rook says there's only one way to find out. That's to ask him right back. Well, personally, I think he's a little off of me. I will soon find out. Hold everything. Hello. Mr. Pietro Saville, please. Will you call him? Mr. Pietro Saville can't come to the telephone, Valentine. He's dead. Hey, who is this? Riley? Yeah, listen, Valentine, get out of here fast. Well, yes, Saville's been murdered. He was struck down by the golden beak of a rooster. A rooster? Yeah, yeah, you heard me. A thing called the golden cockerel. 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. Well, that's what somebody called it. But it's just a fancy, gold-headed cane. Well, it's shaped like a beak, isn't it? A rooster's beak, Miss Brooks? Saville was struck over the head with it, huh? Well, it's sure heavy enough. Yeah, I'll say it was. His wife first attacked the fancy name on it when she saw the thing lying beside the body. You see, this happens to be the house of the opera star Pietro Saville. Oh, so that's... and his wife? Yeah, yeah, his wife's Lorna Saville, soprano. Of course, Lorna Saville. So this record he sent was the right one. Opera all over the place. I suppose it was. Only who sent it to him? And why? I told you what I said about the cook door, the story of it. Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, Miss Brooks. But this guy and his wife were happy enough, I think. They just got back from Europe. Then why did she say Golden Cockerel the minute she saw this cane? How should I know? But what did she say she meant? She didn't. But didn't you ask her? How could I? She fainted. Well, maybe she heard the record her husband got. I was thinking about it, that's all. Yeah, maybe a million things in a case like this. A guy gets a phonograph record with music from a certain opera and then gets killed by the same weapon. What kind of a case? You know that record was homemade? Huh? Yes, you could tell. Oh, I don't mean the singing part, the music, but it must have been a re-recording. Someone must have taken the regular commercial record and copied it. You know how to take a pretty fancy machine to do that on, wouldn't you? That's what I mean, George. A big console job with its own microphone and all kinds of stuff. Like that one right over there. Hey. Mind if I take a look? I brought the record along. Come in, Riley. Huh? No other clues, not one. Oh, why ask me? The body was right back there by the door. Yeah, yeah, the door was half open, so it could have been somebody from the outside or somebody from the inside. And if it was outside, the murderer couldn't have been seen, huh? Oh, you two can own an exclusive hillside lot with a beautiful view of the rocks in the valley and not another house for over a half mile. You two can have privacy and never be seen. All right, all right, I get the idea. Nobody saw anything. I'll meet you downtown, Riley. Right now I'm going to send for Mrs. Seville. Well, Mr. Valentine? Mrs. Seville, you have a face that a man would never forget. Well, most men notice my figure, too. I remember a picture about two years ago. You were mixed up in the breakup of the Carlotti Opera Company. We both used to sing for Carlotti, Pietro and I. Why? Oh, I don't know. I just remember it that's all. There was a lot of talk in the scandal columns. Something about a fight. That's what a lovely memory. Of course there was a fight, a beautiful fight. It took three stage hands to break it up and a foolish young man from the chorus even went to the hospital, I'm told. Oh, you've never seen such a scandalous fight. All I saw was that that's what broke up the opera company. My husband and I had to leave for Europe, that's all. We had engagements to fill. The cause of the fight was you and some playboy baritone. Stop it, stop it, stop it. All right, all right, I'm sorry. It might have been just gossip. We had nothing to do with this, Mr. Valentine. With Pietro's death. There's no conceivable connection. My husband and I were quite happy. Now please, please won't you leave me? Yeah, Bruxy. George, come here. I found it, the whisper. What? What are you doing there? The whisper was on the record. I said one side of it was blank, remember? But here, look, this just looked like a border. But it's three or four grooves right around the edge. Here, listen. So that's what Savelle was talking about. Here. I am sure it is unnecessary to explain my whisper because the record on the other side will explain itself. And the music did explain itself, didn't it, George? The man who was killed by the Golden Cockroach. Mrs. Savelle, whose voice is that? The whisper? No, I don't. Just a whisper. That's why whoever it is, whispers to keep anyone from knowing. You can close the machine now, Miss Brooks. My husband couldn't figure it out. I can't figure it out. I'm certain you can. Oh, sure, lady. Hey, Bruxy, is that the record you brought out here, the same one? Of course it is. Yes, George. You saw me bring it, the one Pietro Savelle sent us, the one he received. What makes you so positive, Mrs. Savelle? And why didn't you want Miss Brooks playing around with this machine? Why have you been staring at me? Mr. Valentine, please. George. Yeah, Bruxy, another record, just like the other one. Here, let me see. Here, play it. Those same grooves, and it's blank in the middle. I'm sure it is unnecessary to explain my whisper. Because the music on the other side will explain itself. Come on, come on, turn it over. But it's exactly the same. Looks just like the other one. George, it's not the same. All right, Mrs. Savelle, let's have the story on this record fast. The record, Mr. Valentine? What about the record, don't you know it? Aren't you familiar with my greatest success? Salome. Thank you, my dear. Yes, it's Salome. It's Salome's dance. But this record, where did it come from? You know, I rather wish I knew that myself. But the postman brought it just this afternoon, and there didn't seem to be a return address. To you, right? It came to you. Yes, to me. Isn't that funny? Oh, no. No, Mr. Valentine, I don't know anything else. And if you'll excuse me, I'm going upstairs. I'm walking upstairs. George, she got a record, but she didn't want us to know about it. Even after her husband's... I know, but skip it. Now listen, Bruxy. What's this, our robot? Well, come on, come on, think. I'm trying to remember it. It's based on the Bible story, I guess. Yeah. Salome danced for King Herod. She demanded the head of John the Baptist. What happened to her? I don't remember. Get up there. Get after her, Mrs. Saville. Follow her upstairs. Whether she likes it or not, stay with her. I'm going to phone Riley. She's not there, George. This is the bottler, Paul. Okay, Buster, where did Mrs. Saville go? Just outside, sir. What's wrong? I told the madam about the wire I took over the phone. The wire? Western Union. I wrote it down. Here, give me that. I'm at my place down the canyon. Please come at once. Signed Eric Stanton. Place down the canyon? It's less than a mile around the hill trail. But who is it? Who's Eric Stanton? He used to be with the Savilles and the old Kalate Opera Company. An old friend. A singer. A baritone. Slow down, will you, Mrs. Saville? I don't want you with me. You're going to have to stand me, lady. Oh, George, she'll sprain an ankle running on that narrow trail. Put those rocks on the side of the hill. I'll get her. I said slow down, lady. All right. I'll tell you when I go. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. A rock slide. I'm afraid she's dead. Crushed her before she even knew what happened. But... But that record, George. Solomy. I remember now. At the end of the opera, Solomy was... was crushed to death. You are listening to Let George Do It. Our adventure will continue in just a moment. Now back to George Valentine. It's unnecessary to explain my whisper. Because the music on the other side will explain itself. These few words on a record. And on the other side, music from an opera. The beautiful Lorna Saville received such a record with the music of Solomy. And now she's dead, like Solomy, crushed to death. Her husband, Pietro, the aging opera star received his death notice in the form of music from LeCouc d'Or. He too died in the same way as the hero of that opera. If your name is George Valentine, I can't help accepting this case as a personal challenge. Oh, if I'd only moved a little faster, I might have saved Lorna Saville. No, George, you couldn't have helped her. Now the trail was rigged in advance, Valentine. Don't you understand nobody ever used it and it had been weakened so much that the weight of a mouse would have started the rocks rolling. The telegram sent from that Eric Stanton brought her onto the trail. Hey, you're not going to start reading that book again, are you, Valentine? The stories of the operas. I swiped it from the Saville's library, Riley. Yeah, well, I'm not complaining. Go ahead, go ahead, find me an answer. I'd love one. How many operas are there? A hundred, maybe? And at least half of them ending in death? Real fancy dress-circle deaths that somebody's copying. Lieutenant. Yeah, yes, Sergeant, what is it? No point in going up to that other house, that Eric Stanton's place. Why not? The place is all boarded up. There hasn't been anybody in that house for months. Okay, all right, buddy. The telegram was deliberately sent to get Lorna Saville killed. But before you start scaring yourself over what might happen to 50 other people, let's stick to what we know. Like that man Carlotti I told you about. The one who owned the opera. That's our job, Riley. Find Carlotti. See, see, it used to be the Carlotti opera, but now all I own is an empty theater. I am not what you would call a practicing impresario. Mr. Carlotti, the company broke up two years ago, right? When the Savilles were singing here in town. Oh, such wonderful voices, both of them. See, you are right. Now, they left immediately for Europe, but it wasn't a philic contract, was it? A lot more likely it was to break one, yours. It was a big scandal and a fight and all kinds of things. Oh, no, no, Mr. Valentine, I would not see. So that one man landed in the hospital and it took three minutes. Yes, yes, I closed the opera. The next day I have lost touch with everyone. It happens that way, but to blame... He received his record, he sent it to me. But when his wife received one, even after she knew what had happened to Pietro, she kept quiet. On top of that, she gets a wire signed Eric Stanton. You see what I'm driving at? Yes, yes, it was Stanton. Always Stanton. He has such a smile, so many women, such a voice. And in Cove Door, the king refused to give up the queen. Two years ago, that was the reason for the fight. Pietro, he had just discovered that Stanton so foolhardy, self-confident, poor Lana was only confused and decided, yes, they fight, they even threaten to kill each other. Pietro kidnapped his wife to Europe and Stanton too is gone, to South America. Everyone is upset, of course, but time is such a healer. Mr. Carlotti, Lana Seville kept quiet today because she thought she knew whose whisper it was. Who sent the records? And she had to find out for herself. Then I suppose I must tell you, Stanton is in town. What? Bruxy Carlotti. I see him in the street opposite Richter's music building a month ago. He's not singing this season, just the social visits. He has an apartment. I wish I could protect him more from what you are thinking. This may be where Stanton lives, but he sure ain't here now. Hey, Riley, over here. What is it, George? We set it to take a re-recording to do this. Look there. Yeah, Angel, build into the wall. I see. Holy smoke, there's a turntable, a microphone, the works. It's even more complete than the one at the Seville's. Wait a minute, no wastebasket here, look. A record, a platter that's scratched and cracked, a couple of chips broken out of it. A record just like the others. Sure, even a professional couldn't make home recordings without making a few mistakes, and it's not a platter or two. Yeah. Lieutenant, it says Eric Stanton left here just a few minutes ago. What's that? Yeah, he went down to a place called Richter's, some big music place where you buy phonograph records. My dear sir, we sell more phonograph records than any other company in the city. Our classical section on the third floor has 10... Never mind the advertising. And when it comes to opera, I... Yeah, look at this. Oh, dear me, what a beautiful bed. That's better, Buster. Eric Stanton, is he here? The better tone? Nearly all great names. Come to us, sooner or later. He said, is he here now? That's what I was going to say. Yes, upstairs buying records, I think. He comes quite often. Such a game. Ah, stairways over here. Come on, veterans. Wait a minute, Riley. Stanton can't get away. Look, friend, do you know opera yourself? Come here, over here, the demonstration. Well, of course, my field is really instrumental and at home I like Bach. I don't know how much I can get out of a crack record, but you listen. Oh, dear me, it is quite mutilated, isn't it? Skip it, just listen. I really don't understand. Valentine that record's different from the others. Of course it is, Riley. How about it, friend? Oh, such a magnificent thing. It's Mozart. Yes, Mozart. Yes. Mozart what? It's from Don Giovanni, the champagne opera. It's such a shame the salesman can't sing it for you. Such a tragedy, poor chap. Don Giovanni, huh? What? Remember I've been reading a book, Riley. This is one opera we're going to beat to the final curtain. Hey, what's that? Don't you know? Step on it, run. No, it's not. Come on, Riley. Hey, listen. It's the same record. Uh, Giovanni. Sure. Somebody's even got the stage set for it. Stanton. Stanton, where are you? Riley's not here, Valentine. Those booze. Try those booze. You've only got a minute. What? Don't you smell the smoke? That bell was the fire alarm. Hey, Stanton! But how do you know he's here? Yeah, Riley, this one. Oh, it's locked. In the opera, Don Giovanni couldn't escape the fires that were there to burn him. It was Stanton. Come on, once more. Let's hit it together. Stanton! Hey, he's passed out. Hurry, get in shoulders. It's still plenty of time. Congratulations, Valentine. Your score's picking up. So is the murderers, Riley. So is the murderers. Now this is the place, Bruxy. Shut the street door. Lieutenant Riley's still back at the fire? Taking Eric's stand to the hospital. Here we are of these iron steps. Yeah, it's so dark. Nothing emptier than an empty theater, is it? Or an opera house backstage. But the office must be just ahead up there. Bruxy, I could have waited for Stanton to wake up, but somehow I think the murder will be moving fast right now. Here we are. Senior Milo Carlotti. No casting today, no singers required. Such dusty sign. Not here. The place is empty. Yeah. George, are you sure Stanton knows? Oh, not by any clues. It's not that kind of a case. There's a madman, but not a madman who goes around killing everybody. Well, all those people were tied up together, Lona Saville or husband Eric Stanton. George, let's see him quick. Come on, wait a minute. Uh, who is it? George, he's on the steps. His whisper. His whisper. That's what we've been wrong about, Bruxy. Thinking it was somebody hiding his real voice. It is so nice to find you here, senior. That guy isn't Carlotti. It's somebody coming here to kill him. But so many steps, senior. The whisper that Stanton must have recognized and gone straight to confront to ask why. A man who has to talk that way, who can't talk anyway else. Sure, that's why he whispers. Now, Mr. Carlotti, I shall tell you what I've done, what I'll do to... Oh, no, you don't bust a... Who are you? Well, we might ask you the same question. I'm not so sure, Angel. Maybe we can guess. Who could have locked Stanton in that booth with that fire? Who'd be in the best place to make phonograph records? Who'd have a chip on his shoulder big enough to kill people because he lost his voice? It was greater than Stanton's. It was greater than Seville's. Huh? Carlotti never would admit it, but it was my voice, mine. And listen to it for two years, just an echo. George! I know, I know, friend. You're pretty sorry for yourself, aren't you? You work in the music store, don't you? The salesman there. Yeah, salesman me. The one in the floor walker said it sung an opera. Said it was so tragic, such a shame you couldn't sing for us now. Oh, no, no, I will sing if you want. There's somebody else who got hurt in the big fight when it took three stage hands to break it up. And a foolish man from the chorus was even sent to the hospital. I should have sung leading roles, but I was knocked to the floor. The stage brace hit my throat. It was their fault. He closed the company. I never had another chance until now until... George! Hey! Don't follow your fault. The railings, look out, George! Yeah! He went right over, Brooks. Oh, he's not moving. He hit the floor. He hit the stage. Well, maybe that's what he always wanted. Set a stage. Back to the conclusion of our let George do it adventure in just a moment. There was a terrible thing that happened to him. A singer to lose his voice. And all from just an accident. From a thoughtless quarrel between some other people and he was just a bystander. Ah, that was just his version, Miss Brooks. They didn't know he'd been hurt that badly. Stanton even said he went around to the hospital afterwards but the guy wouldn't even see him. And Carlotti offered financial help but the guy turned him down. Carlotti says he never had a voice in the first place. Just a failure who wanted something to blame him on. Boy, I thought mysteries were rough but grand opera, holy smoke, bury him alive, burn him up, stab each other. You're not kidding. So let's forget it for a while and get some different kind of music. All right, darling. I'll calm you down with the radio. Good. Rippling rhythm, maybe? Some nice sweet jazz. That's it, Angel. Send him out of little stuff that relaxes. I'll be glad when you're dead you'll rascal you. Oh, no! You have just heard Solo in Whispers, another Let George Do It adventure. Robert Bailey was starred as George Valentine with Virginia Greg as 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.