 Twarold Dutch Cleanser, famous for chasing dirt, presents Nick Carter, famous for chasing crime. Each week at this time two great names are joined. As new post-twarold Dutch Cleanser brings you one of the most resourceful and daring characters in all detective fiction. Nick Carter, master detective. Well Patsy, at last I know the name of the killer, how he murdered his victims, and why. Well, then let's go. Let's go where? Well, let's go arrest him, of course. Not so fast Patsy, there's still one slight hitch. Hitch, what is it? Well, I know all these things, but I can't prove a darn one of them. And now, the case of the Salesman of Death, today's exciting adventure starring Lon Clark as Nick Carter, brought to you by new post-war old Dutch Cleanser. As our story opens, Nick Carter is just completing a telephone conversation with a would-be client. I understand Mrs. Gordon, but yes, but if you don't... All right Mrs. Gordon, I'll come out right away. Ah, that Patsy was the rich Mrs. Benjamin Gordon of Park Avenue on Newport. Oh, you mean the one who gives so much money to charity and is mixed up in the East Bay Boys Club? That's the one. Well, what's with her? Seems someone wrote her a threatening letter, so get your hat, she's waiting for us. I already got it, Nick, but just what did this mysterious someone threaten Mrs. Gordon with anyway? Apparently, someone is trying to kill her by prayer. Mighty powers too great for the mind of mortal to know. I pray you grant the boon of death to the woman Mrs. Benjamin Gordon. Oh, come in, Mr. Carter. Mrs. Gordon is expecting you. Thank you. I'm Albert Farmer, Mrs. Gordon's secretary. This is Miss Bowen, my assistant. How do you do, Miss Bowen? How do you do? In here, please. Sorry, I dropped my cane. I got it. Thank you. I turned my ankle last week and I'm still clumsy with this cane. Here through the store, please. Thank you. Mrs. Gordon, here's Mr. Carter and his assistant, Miss Bowen. How do you do, Mrs. Gordon? How do you do? How do you do? See, Andy, I told you I'd still be alive and kicking when Mr. Carter got here. Be quiet, Blake. This is my nephew, Blake Gordon, Mr. Carter. He's lazy and impertinent. Pay no attention to him. Now, Andy, you know Mr. Carter will suspect me instantly. I'm the only one who has any reason to want you dead. I'm the only one who inherits anything except those charities of yours. That's enough, Blake. Well, Mr. Carter, you certainly took your time. I could have been dead before you got here. The time seemed longer because you're so upset, Mrs. Gordon. Of course I'm upset. How over the phone you mentioned a letter. Yes, that horrid letter. Give it to him, Albert. Here it is, Mr. Carter. Thank you. Cheap envelope. Addressed in a typewriter, huh? But it has a return address. People who write threatening letters don't usually give their addresses. No, they don't. Temple of Thought, 5138 Second Avenue. That's the worst slum district in the city. What in the world is the Temple of Thought? Oh, no. Let's see what the letter says. Uh-huh. Dear Mrs. Gordon, I'm happy to inform you that the Boon of Death has been requested for you. I've begun to pray for your release from life in accordance with the ancient ritual. I advise you to put your affairs in order so that you may enter into the peace of eternity with a free mind. Signed Rama, High Priest of the Temple of Thought. Well, I've seen threatening letters before, but this certainly beats them all. I feel short from the crank. Don't you agree, Mr. Carter? Not necessarily, Mr. Farmer. Though it certainly is worded curiously. My theory is that Williams the chauffeur is behind this, Andy. Remember, when you discharged him last week, he threatened to kill you. We're not interested in your theories, Blake. Mr. Carter, you must catch this Rama person and lock him up immediately. All right, I'll call on him right away and see what he's up to. Have you notified the police? The police? No. I'm relying entirely on you. Albert. Yes, Mrs. Gordon? Go upstairs and make sure there are no prowlers lurking about. Certainly, Mrs. Gordon. And I'm going up and lock myself in my room until this Rama person is dealt with. I don't think you're in any real danger, Mrs. Gordon, but, well, it can't do any harm to take precautions. All clear, Mrs. Gordon. Then I'm going upstairs. Blake, you will see Mr. Carter and Miss Bowman to the door. Right, oh, Andy. I hope you can ease the old girl's mind. You see, her bark is worse than her bite. Why, she's given a role. What happened, Mrs. Gordon? What happened? She's falling down stairs. Oh! She fell all the way to the foot of the stairs. Oh, she isn't moving, Nick. What is it? What's happened to Mrs. Gordon? She fell down the stairs. Mr. Carter, is she? Sorry, Mr. Gordon, but your aunt is dead. Now look, Nick, I've been in the homicide bureau for 10 years and I've never heard of anyone getting prayed to death. That's strictly screwball stuff. I know, Maddie, but just the same two hours after she received that letter, Mrs. Gordon died. But accidentally, Nick, Annie the maid and Blake Gordon the nephew, swear they saw her fall down the stairs and break her neck when nobody was near her. That's true, I know, but... And her secretary was upstairs, swear there was no one in the upper hall. Well, even so, Maddie. Okay, it was an accident. She fainted or had a heart attack. Maddie, did you notice that, according to the coroner's report, there was a curious bruise on her body, a small round bruise directly over the solar plexus? So what? Naturally, she bruised herself falling down stairs. But she fell backwards. Oh, listen, Nick. All right. Anyway, I thought you'd want to question this drama with me. That's why I left Patsy at the office and stopped by for you. Of course I want to talk to him, but I still say you don't kill people by praying them to death. Maybe Mr. Rama has beat it. I doubt it. Let's try the door. Okay. Hey, they ain't even locked. I suppose we see what a temple of thought looks like. All right. Oh, brother. What a joint. You can say that again. An old loft, all fixed up with red velvet curtains and funny-looking idols. Somebody certainly likes oriental incense. You wish to see Rama, high priest of the temple of thought? Hey, where did you come from? From behind the curtains. I was meditating and could not answer your knock. You, Rama? I am Rama, and you are the police. What? You have come to question me about the death of Mrs. Benjamin Gordon. Hey, how do you know she's dead? Ain't been announced yet? The spirits arranged for me to be informed. It was I who killed her. Oh, you're admitting it, huh? I am not admitting it. I am stating it. Then you're confessing to murder. Now you're being ridiculous. It is not yet the crime to pray for someone to die. She got us there, Mary. No. I thank you for realizing the obvious. We're not here to charge you with murder. We want information. Rama has no secrets. And suppose you explain what you're up to and fast. I am an oriental mystic. It happens I know a rare and ancient eastern prayer that frequently brings death within a very short time. You mean you're in the business of selling death? Yes, but quite legally. Well, of all that. There are many people who desire someone's death. Sure, but... They come to me and pay what they can. I provide the death prayer. I make no guarantee. But if death does not occur within one year, I refund the money. It is a simple business transaction. Just how many times have you been successful to date? More than you will believe. I will give the names of six persons who I have provided with death. You may check them for yourself. You're darn right we will. Suppose you tell us who it was that ordered Mrs. Gordon's death. I do not know. What do you mean you don't know? The order came by mail with $500 bills enclosed. $500? The note was composed of words clipped from newspapers and simply asked me to pray for the death of Mrs. Gordon. Uh-huh. So you prayed and she dies? Yes. So the transaction is closed. Why, you want to be... Pardon me. Hello? Yes, this is Rama speaking. Thank you. I was sure he would be satisfied. I understand. Goodbye. Hey, who was that? That gentleman was the client who ordered Mrs. Gordon's death. What? He said that he had highly pleased with my services and is sending me an order for a second death prayer tomorrow. Apparently Nick has encountered a new and baffling method of murder. We'll find out more about it in just a moment. Back to the case of the salesman of death. Today's adventure with Nick Carter. Brought to you by new post-war old Dutch cleanser. It is the morning after the mysterious death of Mrs. Benjamin Gordon. Nick and Patsy at the office are trying to puzzle out the truth of the case. Nick, could Rama have had anything to do with Mrs. Gordon's death? Or was it just one of those horrible coincidences that she fell down the stairs? The answer is no to both questions, Patsy. Well, do you suppose Mrs. Gordon's nephew and that maid Annie are lying when they say they saw a fall down the stairs and that nobody was anywhere near her? Well, it could be. So far Blake Gordon is the only person we know who has a motive. Yeah. He gets $100,000 in the old lady's will. And he needs it. Well, he gets more except that the rest of her money goes to charity. True. Say, how about that show for Williams, Mrs. Gordon fired last week? Well, we're checking on him. Oh. Well, just the same. I can't help believing that Rama may have some kind of strange power. Yes, in the face of it, Rama's powers are very convincing. Only I am not convinced. Well, yesterday he said his client was going to order another death prayer. And if somebody else dies now, then we'll know Rama's on the level. I hope we can see to it that no one else does die. Maddie's going to let me know if he gets a report from anybody who... Hey, Nick! Nick! Hey, what the devil's a matter, Maddie? Good morning, Nick. I got a squad car outside. I just had a phone call from old Hiram Worth. That devil Rama started praying him to death. Hiram Worth? Yeah. But he's one of the richest men in the city. Look, Maddie, I better phone him first. Oh, for the love of heaven. I want to tell him we're on the way. I want him to be careful. It'll only take a minute. Well, okay, but make it fast. That Rama guy's probably praying for him to die right this moment. Yeah, I am. Hello, I'd like to speak to Mr. Worth, please. I'm sorry, but that is impossible. But this is Nick Carter speaking. I'm sorry, Mr. Carter, but Mr. Worth cannot come to the phone. He died five minutes ago. Look, give, did you say that after Mr. Worth read that letter from the High Priest Rama, he phoned Sergeant Motherson and then stayed in his library with you on guard outside. That right? Yes, sir. And no one came near him? No, sir, not a soul. Mr. Worth was very much upset at reading about the death of Mrs. Gordon, and he was taking no chances. Did he know Mrs. Gordon? Oh, yes, sir. The two of them founded the East Bay Boys Club. Mr. Worth was chairman of the board of governors, and Mrs. Gordon was treasurer. I see. In fact, they had an appointment to meet only today to look into its affairs. They were very disturbed about something. Yeah, well, that's got nothing to do with the fact that they got killed. Now, let's... Not so fast, not so fast, Matty. What? This East Bay Boys Club seems to be a link between Worth and Mrs. Gordon. The only genuine link we found. Well, sure, but... Well, then as much as our deaths must be tied together somehow, maybe it's through this boys club. I don't see how they could be, Nick. Only that they are yet, but... Gibbs? Yes, sir. You didn't leave the house for a single minute? Just long enough to slip outdoors and mail a letter for Mr. Worth. But I wasn't gone more than a minute or so. What was the letter you mailed? Well, this morning, along with the letter from this Rama person, Mr. Worth also received a letter from a Mr. Smith in Raleigh, North Carolina, offering to sell him a rare early American glass bowl at a very good price. Mr. Worth is... was very keen on early American glassware. So I've heard. Go on, please. Well, he'd been searching for just such a bowl for years. In fact, only last month he wrote Mrs. Gordon, who also collects glassware, asking her to sell him the bowl she owns. She refused. So you see, he was delighted to learn that one was for sale. And while he was waiting for you, he made out his check, sealed in the self-addressed envelope Mr. Smith enclosed, and sent me out to post it immediately. Which you did, huh? And when I returned, Mr. Worth was perfectly all right. But five minutes later, he cried out. I rushed in. There he was, slopped across his desk. Dead. Gibbs, I'd like to see the envelope, the letter from this Mr. Smith arrived in. Yes, Mr. Carter. I thought to be right here. Yes. Here it is. Mm-hmm. Hey, Maddie, look at this. What? The return address is Raleigh, North Carolina. But this envelope was postmarked right here in the city. Then it's a phony. Yes, Maddie, a very deadly phony. Unless I miss my guess, whatever killed Hiram Worth is in the U.S. mail. And we can't get it back. Hi, Betsy. Well, you look pleased with yourself. I am. Last time, making some progress. Oh, such as what? Discovered that the finances of the Bay Boys Club are in bad shape. Really? Yes, ma'am. And my guess about Hiram Worth's death has been proved correct. He was killed by poison mucilage in the flap of that letter he sealed just before he died. But, Nick, how did you get hold of that letter? Fortunately, Hiram Worth was a very methodical man. Uh-huh. He put his return address in the envelope when he sealed it. Oh. So when the post office couldn't deliver it back to the fake address written on it, it came right back here. Right. And an analysis showed that there was enough poison in the mucilage in the flap to kill three men. Yeah, but who sent the letter, Nick? Rama? I'd guess the man who hired Rama didn't trust Rama's powers any more than I do and decided to help them out a little. Uh-huh. Have you any idea who he is? Logically, only one person could have done it. Oh, but logic isn't proof. Oh, it isn't. I haven't any proof yet. And that means we'll have to make him trap himself. Trap himself? How? I have a plan in mind. Pretty elaborate, but if it works, we'll be able to wash the whole case up tonight. Oh, that'll be swell. And as our first step, Patsy, we're going to call on Mr. High Priest Rama. It's Mr. Carter and his attractive assistant. Pleased to enter the temple of thought. Thank you. What's that, uh, wreckage you're playing? It is a ritual drum which signals the unseen powers that I command, the powers of death. You mean you're praying somebody else to death now? It is so. This morning, my new client wrote in closing still a third order. And may we ask who this new victim is to be? You may indeed. I was just about to inform you. The drums of death, Mr. Carter, are beating for you. So now Nick himself is to be prayed to death. And when the High Priest Rama begins his strange spell, something fatal always happens. We'll find out how Nick evades the deadly fate that has already overtaken at least two victims in just a minute. And now, for the conclusion of the case of the salesman of death, today's Nick Carter adventure brought to you by new post-war old Dutch cleanser. It is evening, and at Nick's request, everyone connected with the case, including Sergeant Matheson, has gathered at the temple of thought. Uneasily, they sit in a circle in the dimly-lighted room, while Rama, the mysterious High Priest, stands aloof in flowing robes and a fantastic turban. Quiet, everyone, please. Quiet, please. I know you're all wondering why I've asked you to come here. Well, the answer is that one of you is responsible for the deaths of Mrs. Gordon and Mr. Worth. With Rama's help, we're going to punish that person. Before we begin, I want to be sure you're all here of your own free will. First, Mrs. Gordon's nephew, Blake Gordon. I'd almost caught her. I haven't been so intrigued in years. Mrs. Gordon's maid, Annie. I said I'd come, and I'm here. But I don't like this place. It scares me. We won't belong, Annie. Albert Farmer, Mrs. Gordon's secretary? I'm here voluntarily, Mr. Carter. Glad to help out if I can. And Gibbs, Mr. Worth's valet? I'm here because you asked me, Mr. Carter. I don't like it, but if it would help avenge Mr. Worth's death, I'll stay. And last, Williams. Mrs. Gordon's former chauffeur. Sure, I'm here, my own free will. I shut off my mouth when the old lady fired me, but I never touched the old battle axe. I'm here to see I ain't framed. Then we can get going. One person here tonight used the strange and mysterious powers of Rama to bring death to two people. It's only simple justice that we should use Rama's mystic powers to bring punishment to that person, who it seems cannot be touched by the law. Hey, look, Nick. Later, Maddie. Silence, please. Rama? Rama, is that your service? Begin the prayer of punishment for the one who paid you to bring death to Mrs. Gordon and Mr. Worth. Rama will invoke the ancient ordeal by fire, used for ten times ten thousand years to make the guilty known to his fellows. Slowly the blood in the guilty one's veins will come to a boil. He will feel his skin on fire. Heat will envelop him. And if he does not speak, he will die screaming in madness. You can't be serious about this, Mr. Carter. Really? No, that sounds absurd. Hey, Nick, for the love of my... Silence, please, everyone. I am perfectly serious. As the guilty person will discover when the incantation begins to work. Rama, begin. Almighty power is beyond the knowing of mere mortals. Your servant calls down the ordeal by fire upon the one who has willed the deaths of others. I begin the first drum of the fire ritual. I'm enjoying the music, but nothing seems to be happening. I'm afraid. I want to go home. Hey, you've got to let me out of here. Those drums are giving me the willies. Mr. Carter, I can't stand it much longer. I can't. Silence, everyone. This is all just a trick of some kind. Stop those drums and let us out of here. Why, Mr. Farmer, you're perspiring badly. Your face is flushed. You feeling too warm? No. No, of course not. But you're trying too hard. And I've had enough. Stop those drums, I say. Rama, stop the drums. Turn on the lights. Rama, hear, then obey. But the spell cannot be stopped. Mr. Farmer, your face is streaming with perspiration. Your skin is as red as fire. You sure you don't feel uncomfortably warm? What if I do? You can't fool me. You're up to some hope of coax, pocus. You've poisoned me. You're trying to pin this whole thing on me, but you can't do it. You haven't had a thing to eat or drink since you came here. You haven't been poisoned. You've done it. You've turned the heat on in here. You're all in some kind of a plot. No one else is suffering from the heat. No, Mr. Farmer, Rama's spell is working and nothing can stop it. Nothing but a confession by the guilty person. You're lying. Rama's just a fake. I looked him up. I know just how big a fake he is. Then why do you feel as if you were on fire? Your skin is burning hot. That proves Rama's spells are no trickery. No, I've used Rama to fool you all from the beginning, but you can't use him to fool me. I won't be tricked into confessing. I won't be... But you have confessed, Farmer. Okay, Maddie. Put the handcuffs on him. Now listen, Nick, I want a few facts out of you. And so do I. Facts? Well, you've both heard Albert Farmer's confession after he realized he'd given himself away and you know how he killed Mrs. Gordon. Yeah, yeah, sure. He hid behind the draperies at the head of the stairs and what you got within a couple of steps to the top. He jabbed the end of his cane against her solar plexus as hard as he could. She fell head over heels down the stairs and broke her neck. Uh-huh. And she was in such a position that her nephew and maid who were downstairs couldn't see the cane. That's what made it look like an accident. Okay, that's that. And you already know how Farmer killed Worth with the poison envelope. And you also know the motive behind both murders. We're sure Albert said they were going to investigate the affairs of the East Bay Boys Club. Yeah, but what did he have to do with the Boys Club? Well, think for a minute. Mrs. Gordon was treasurer of the charity. Okay, but... Now, what a woman as old as Mrs. Gordon do the actual work herself. Why, of course not. She'd give a job to someone else. And the natural person for her to pick would be her secretary. Then Albert handled all the money she and Worth contributed. Right. And he managed to steal about $30,000 as I discovered by checking the books. Yeah, but Nick, why were you so sure Albert was guilty? Because of that fake letter to Mr. Worth. It had to be sent by someone who knew Worth wanted a bowl such as the one described in the letter. And also knew he wanted it so badly he'd be sure to answer by return mail. Yeah, I see what you mean. Now, Gibbs, you remember, told us Worth had written Mrs. Gordon asking her to sell him the antique bowl she owned. Uh-huh. So she knew he wanted a bowl. Gibbs knew it, Worth knew it. And the person who handled Mrs. Gordon's correspondence knew it. In other words, Albert Farmer. But that still wasn't proof. That's why I had to use an elaborate psychological third degree on Albert in order to trick him into confessing. He used Rama to confuse us. So I used Rama to confuse him. Oh, well, Nick, does Rama really have any supernatural powers? Of course not. Albert was simply using him for camouflage. Rama's just a clever faker who thought up this death prayer racket about a year ago. But if Rama's a fake, what happened to Albert there tonight? That fancy was psychology, not magic. Psychology? Sure. Albert Farmer came to the temple of thought feeling he could bluff his way through anything that happened. But fear finally caught up with him. You mean that even though he knew Rama was a phony, he started to think all that incantation baloney might work? Maybe. In any case, Farmer began to feel trapped. He got uneasy, nervous. His blood pressure went up. And then when you started to give him the business... Then the heat was really off. He couldn't take it any longer. Broke out in a cold sweat and then made a slip. After that, getting a confession out of him was duck soup. Nick, I got the handle to you. You sure figured out a new way of turning the heat on a killer. Ha-ha! Nick Carter, master detective, is presented each week at this time by the Cuddehy Packing Company. It is produced and directed by Jock McGregor and is copyrighted by Street and Smith Publications Incorporated. Charlotte Manson is featured as Patsy. Ed Latimer plays Matty. Today's script was written by Robert J. Arthur. Original music is played by Henry Silverne. This program is fictional and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Next Saturday, and in the days to follow, millions of red paper poppies will appear on coats and dresses all over America. In this way, with our dimes, quarters, and dollars, we help our disabled veterans to help themselves. We let them know, too, that we have not forgotten the sacrifices they made for us. So buy a poppy. Show that you remember. This is Michael FitzMorris saying, when minutes count, use new post-war old Dutch cleanser. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.