 The standard of California on behalf of independent Chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West invites you to let George do it. The Ghost on Bliss Terrace, another adventure of George Valentine. President will notice, danger is my stock and trade. If you crowd it into a corner and you can't fight your way out alone, you've got a job for me, George Valentine. Write full details. Mr. Valentine, there's no such thing as a haunted house. You know that and I know it. Still, a great many people in our neighborhood are convinced that a certain empty house on Bliss Terrace is occupied by a ghost. I've persuaded a group of my saner neighbors to join me in raising a fee so we can prove once and for all that it's all so much poppycock. You can find me at home any morning. It's side Mrs. Angela McCauley. A haunted house, no less. Well, I know how we can earn that fee in a hurry. All right, Angela. I'll play straight, man. How? Just put out a for rent sign. Whatever ghosts happen to be around, we'll be trampled to death. Roxy, you take this too lightly. This isn't just one person's fanciful whim. This is a community project headed by a solid citizen named Angela McCauley. We can't turn our backs on a civic enterprise like this. All right. But what standard equipment for a job like this? Ham-tailored bedsheets, old props from an Abboton Costello picture? No, Angela. Just pride in our work and a normal amount of curiosity. And as I've said, Mr. Valentine, although we're ordinary middle-class families, we take great pride in our neighborhood. Yes, you told us that, Mrs. McCauley. You can't imagine the effect all this talk about the Mitchell House has had. What do you mean? Oh, it just stands there empty. Nobody will rent it. Nobody will buy it. And I soar for the whole neighborhood. Well, outside of saying boo to the ghosts, what do you expect me to do? It's entirely up to you, Mr. Valentine. We just want you to prove that all those stories about the Mitchell House are false. Well, just what are these stories, Mrs. McCauley? Well, there was the milk man, Fred Horton. He swears that when he was delivering milk one morning, he saw a curtain swing back and a face suddenly appear in the window. I see. Well, is that all that happened? Tommy Canig, that's Martha Canig's little boy, he says he saw a face in the window, too. Well, anyway, that's two people it saw. A certain wouldn't take Fred Horton's word for anything. And Tommy, that boy, can dream up anything with his imagination. You know, I doubt very much if a group of substantial people like yourself would have asked me in at all, just because a milk man made a few wayward remarks and a little boy seconded the motion. Are you sure you're not leaving anything out, Mrs. McCauley? Not a thing. As I told all the others, this never would have happened if Sam Mitchell hadn't been murdered. Murdered? Oh, well, this might be the thing you left out. And did you say Sam Mitchell was murdered? Yes, that's right, about a month ago. It was never solved. Why didn't you say that at the beginning? What a way to tell a story. An unsolved murder is an afterthought. Just because Sam Mitchell was hit over the head by some passing clamp, it doesn't mean the whole neighborhood should be given a bad name. Yeah, I know what I said. Young man, do you or don't you want to accept this assignment? Oh, yes, Mrs. McCauley. Yes, I'd like to take it on. Good. I don't know why. Maybe, as Ms. Brooks said, it's just the fascinating way you tell a story with murder as an afterthought. Okay, Valentine, okay, I don't see why this Mitchell case has to be a private nightmare. Oh? Nightmare? Well, what would you call it, Ms. Brooks? Sam Mitchell, railroad engineer, devoted husband, coming up for pension after 40 years of faithful service. Hasn't got an enemy in the world, suddenly we find him beaten to death in the home he worked and paid for. We found out that much, Lieutenant. There wasn't anything stolen. Everybody loved the guy. We can't find the murder weapon. How about Mrs. Mitchell, Lieutenant? Eh? Oh, well, she was visiting her sister when her husband was murdered. He was hit over the head repeatedly with a blunt instrument by someone who apparently couldn't do the job right the first time. I'm in a rowing. Eh? Yeah? I told you my only job is to prove that the house on Bliss Terrace isn't haunted. I know, I know. Ghosts. That day, Mrs. McCauley's been in my hair, too. Well, what about it, Lieutenant? We've been through that house with a fine-tooth comb. We've watched it from the outside. Nobody could have got in or out without us seeing them. Oh, you know how people are when they start talking. Yeah, ghosts. Of all the cock-eyed jobs you've ever taken on Valentine, this is the... Take it easy, Lieutenant. Take it easy. Ah, dude. Suppose I look for ghosts and you try to find the murderer. I understand you deliver milk in the neighborhood of Bliss Terrace, Mr. Horton. That's right, Mr. Well, now, just exactly what did you see? Well, like I've been saying, a face in the window around dawn one morning. A man or a woman? Oh, couldn't tell. It was a thin face. Like it was almost all bone. Long, stringy hair. You've seen it for a minute. Look, you believe me, don't you? Oh, sure, sure, sure. Go on, huh? Well, not only that. One morning I heard music coming out of the Mitchell House. What's that? Yeah, a guitar or a banjo or something. It went something like this. You believe me, don't you? Oh, yeah, every word. I was just marveling at the way you carry a tune. Thanks for the information, friend. I've seen somebody in the Mitchell House, and I'm going to prove it, too. Okay, Tommy, take it easy. Well, tell us about it, dear. What kind of person was it? One lady who was getting dark. I put my face up to the wind on the porch, and, gosh, all of a sudden, there was another face looking right at me. I bet that must have been on the scare, and do you tell me? Me, not me, lady. I just kept looking right back at him. And the daylight's out of him. So it was a man, huh? Golly, I don't know for sure. He had long hair like a lady, but... Well, anyway, it was real, like Mr. Wharton said. Just wait till I prove it, too. Well, that's a job we both got, son. Only it looks as though you've got a head start on me. I know it can't be easy for you to talk about this, Mrs. Mitchell, but... Oh, I don't mind at all. Really, I do. Oh, that's very nice of you. So tell me, dear, do you like this perfume? It's lilac. Oh, it's lilac, yes. Do you think I have too much on? I've always used lilac since I was a girl. As Sam used to say, made me seem even smaller and more fragile than I am. Ah, yes. Now, about the house, Mrs. Mitchell, you were saying... That the Sam was... Well, after he passed away, I tried to go back, but I couldn't stay there. You see, there's someone there. I felt it footsteps in the night. And once I heard... Music? How did you ever guess, Mr. Valentine? Oh, I'm psyching on my mother's side. That's nice. It was an old, old song that reminded me of the days before Sam and I were married and moved into that house on Bliss Terrace. You know, I was quite a girl, Mr. Valentine. Yes, well, that's easy to imagine, but if... Yes, it's the mandolin club every Sunday. Can you write? Oh, those were happy days. I could have married someone more romantic than Sam, like Paul Hart. Oh, look, Mrs. Mitchell, I understand you were away at the time of your husband's death. Yes, I was staying here with my sisters. I'm afraid that Sam and I had a little tea. Oh, about what, if you care to tell me? Sam was getting his pension in a few days. He wanted to live quietly on Bliss Terrace, but I wanted to use the money to see all the wonderful places I've only read about. Poor Sam. Now, I suppose I'll have to do that alone. Yeah. Mrs. Mitchell, I wonder if you'd let me have the key to your haunted house. I'd like to take a look around. You know, George, we could sit here in the car and watch that house all night and still not see anything happen. Yeah, you're so right, Angel. I don't even know what I expect to see happen. Darling? Well, when we went through the house before, I did get sort of a funny feeling. Not you, too, Bruxy. That's Mrs. Mitchell's private routine. Well, I kept getting the feeling that I was in a honeymoon cottage that hadn't been changed in 40 years. Oh, honey, I like that, a honeymoon cottage, Bliss Terrace and a murder. What a combination. Oh, George, maybe I'm imagining things, but isn't the curtain in that window on the porch moving? Yeah. Come on, Bruxy, that's our cue. Bruxy, somebody was moving the curtain in this room. There were no windows open. It couldn't have moved itself. Nobody seems to be here now. Yeah, well, we're going to keep right on looking. Come on, we'll start with the dining room. Okay. The light should be here on the wall somewhere. No, you don't. Stay where you are. Okay, you ask for... Oh, all right, Tommy. You can put away your machine gun now. Huh? Oh, it's only you guys. Say, how did you get in here anyway? Oh, one of the windows in the back. And I haven't overlooked them. Well, I had to prove I wasn't lying when I said I saw somebody in here. Now, look, Phil, I told you we're both trying to prove the same thing. How about giving me a break? Oh, I know you're better at this sort of thing than I am, but it happens to be my living, my job, so how about going home? Yes, your mother's probably wondering where in the world you are. Come on. Hey, I'll be in the kitchen, Bruxy. Oh, what a deal. Mrs. Macaulay, why don't you stay out of my life? You and your citizens' committee for the prevention of ghosts? Hey, characters. Well, he's a character. Well, don't you believe in lies? Oh, don't be a liar. Just a childhood habit sprawling out in the kitchen floor. What happened? You frightened off a remarkably agile ghost. I got tapped before I could even turn on the light. But it can't be. No, this bump is no make-believe. This thing go. It couldn't get out. There's no place to hide. Tommy was playing around in here, and we were watching the house from the outside. Somebody tried to give me the same kind of scalp massage Michel got. Oh, what goes on here? Bruxy, we're not leaving this Victorian love bower until we find out. We'll return to tonight's adventure of George Valentine in just a moment. Meanwhile, a word about waste. No motorist would deliberately drive with a choke out. It would be like throwing gasoline away. It would let the air cleaner under the hood get so dirt clogged that it can waste just as much gas as a pulled-out choke. Even worse, a dirty air cleaner means that some road grit and dust is mixing with the gasoline, and that can raise cane with finely polished engine parts. So take a summer driving tip. Have the air cleaner on your own car serviced. It's an inexpensive job that you can have done quickly at an independent chevron gas station or a standard station. While you're there, let them help keep your engine cooler by cleaning out the radiator. That's another simple, speedy service which repays its cost many times over by maintaining proper engine temperature better all around operation. Ask for radiator and air cleaner service tomorrow at any standard station or independent chevron gas station where they say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. Now back to tonight's adventure of George Valentine. Well, a committee of interested neighbors hires you to prove that a certain house isn't haunted. You discover almost accidentally that there's been a murder committed in said house. A brutal unsolved murder at that. Finally, you have to be knocked unconscious before you're convinced you're dealing with anything but a ghost. So just like George Valentine, you change your tactics. Well, let's face it. Somebody was right here in the kitchen with me and he didn't have a chance to leave the house. Oh, we keep going over the same thing. All right, Angel, all right, let's be very simple. Why should anybody want to jump me like that? Everybody, whoever it was, didn't want you to find him in the kitchen. Ah, now you're being very nice and simple. Thanks. Since I took him by surprise, he wouldn't be carrying a chalely around in his hand. He probably reached out for something that he knew would be there, something nice and handy, something like... Hey, what could be handier? What are you doing, George? This poker hanging on this old-fashioned coal stove. Yeah, it could be. Yeah. And, Bruxy, it's got blood on it. Yeah, Riley. This is Samuel's down the lab, Lieutenant. And about that stove poker. Well, let's have it. We checked and talked to the medical examiner. That was the weapon used on Mitchell, all right? We're working on the fingerprints now. Well, good. Well, that doesn't, Lieutenant. Whoever killed Mitchell was there in the house with us tonight. Now, wait. Don't go jumping at conclusions. Well, you don't think it's just a coincidence that of all the things in the house, he used that stove poker on George? He knew just where it was. He used it before. Well, okay, okay, I'm going to buy that. And what's more, I'm going back to that house with you. I don't know what else we can find there. That's what has me stumped. Well, if I have to, I'm going to tear that place apart with my bare hands. George, I'm sure we turned all the lights off when we left. Yeah, it's a light in the parlor. Come on, come on. The name of my heavens is that. Horton the milkman. He hummed it to me. He swears he heard somebody playing it on a banjo or something when he passed the house one morning. Well, let's go inside and find out what this is all about. What must you think of me sitting here and singing to myself like this? I thought you were staying at your sister's place, Mrs. Mitchell. Why did you come back here tonight? Well, let me see. Oh, yes. These two nice young people and I were talking about the old time. Just this afternoon, the songs we used to sing, and that naturally reminded me of the mandolin. You can understand that. Oh, yes, sure. What mandolin, Mrs. Mitchell? These mandolin, of course. Oh, look, Valentine, I don't give up easily, but this is getting out of hand here. Wait a minute, hold on a minute. I'm very interested in that mandolin, Mrs. Mitchell. Are you a young man? Paul Hart gave it to me when I married Sam. Paul Hart? He was one of your bows, wasn't he? He was so handsome, and he adored me. No one could play the mandolin like Paul. I'm sure of that. He was the leader of our club. I've always felt that Paul gave me that mandolin so I'd never forget him. Or the dreams we had together. I don't know why, but let's get back to that mandolin. Now, that's just it, Lieutenant. It's gone. It's the only thing in the whole house that's missing. If it was a tramp who killed Sam, why would he just steal a mandolin? Oh, you'd be surprised how many questions I can't answer, Mrs. Mitchell. Give me that next room, Valentine. I want to talk to you. You can understand, Mrs. Rove. Very nice of you, Paul. Valentine, a weird thought just occurred to me. You mean that Mrs. Mitchell might be our ghost and murderer? Of course she had a quarrel with her husband. The milkman says he heard something that sounded like a mandolin and the old girl plays well. Ordinarily, if you wanted to kill somebody with a stove poker, just a couple of smacks on the head would have done it. Lieutenant, Mrs. Mitchell is small and fragile. Yeah, yeah. And it took a lot of blows on Mitchell's head to make her a widow. Now, I've kicked that around, too, Lieutenant. But if I don't come up with anything better than that, I'm going to buy me a mandolin and play on street corners. Well, I'm going to get Doc Farrell down here. Felicia Carter? Yeah, yeah. Maybe he can get her to make some sense. I know I can. I'm joy talking to you, Dr. Farrell. You don't mind the others being here? Oh, no. No, not at all. All right, then. We'll go on. Years ago, when this house was built, you meant it to be a sort of, well, dream castle. That's exactly right, Doctor. It's strange how you should know. But in back of your mind, you didn't mean it to be for you and Mr. Mitchell. Oh, but you're wrong, Doc. But Sam and I lived here for 40 years. Uh, what I mean is that you were thinking of someone else all the time. Whether you were willing to admit it to yourself or not. What about that, Mr. Mitchell? You leave me alone. Get away from it. Ah, wait a minute. Don't get excited. I think, you, Doctor, you guessed my secret. Take it easy, Miss. There's nothing to be afraid of. Never let Sam know how I feel. Oh, yes, we do believe you. Uh, just a minute. In here, Riley. All right. What do you make of it, Pearl? Well, Valentine, I wouldn't say she's crazy. Well, okay, Doc. What would you say? You've heard of people who stopped growing physically, others mentally. Yeah. Well, some stopped growing emotionally. She's one of them. Oh, don't go technical on me. I mean, for some 40 years, that woman has tried to remain a romantic young woman. Holding on fiercely to a love she had to turn her back on. It's as simple and complicated as that. And one day she couldn't stand it any longer and bumped her husband off, huh? The answer to that, Lieutenant, is your job. I don't think you need me anymore. Good night. Good night, Doc. Well, it's all wrong, Riley. What's all wrong? It finally came to me a matter of arithmetic. Playing around with it all you want. Five never equals six. Oh, listen. Haven't I had to unravel enough double-talk here tonight? Mrs. Mitchell is not even five feet tall, and I'm over six. She couldn't hit me over the head with that stove poker. But it couldn't be anybody else, unless he's hiding behind a molding somewhere. And if he is, we'll find him. What do you say we really take your advice and start tearing this house apart? But George, we've been through this closet before. All right, so we'll look at it again. What are you looking for, gentlemen? I might be able to help. Uh, please, Mrs. Mitchell. Wait a minute, wait a minute. There's a latch up there in the ceiling. That's funny. I never noticed that before. What, the little square? Well, even if it wasn't opening, it wouldn't lead anywhere. Uh-huh. It couldn't be more than a few feet between the ceiling and the room. Here, wait a minute. Let me have that umbrella. That does open. Well, if somebody could squeeze in and out of that hole, how could he stay up there? Why don't you give me a boost? Maybe I can take a look. Hey, how about that, Lieutenant? Do we borrow your flashlight? All right. Here. Okay. Up you go, Bruxy. Well, what do you see? Let me get the flashlight on, will you? Do you have it, Bruxy? Oh, George! Hold it down quick! I got you, Angel. What is it? What is it? There's a man crouched up there. Oh, it's horrible. Could it be Paul? Say, Valentine, I... Remember, Lieutenant, you're in a hospital, not down at headquarters. Oh, oh, yeah, sure. This is likely to just throw you out. Well, I'm sorry. But, look, Valentine, look good. You and I are on this case together, aren't we? Well? Well, I just got a confession from this Paul-up character. He admits he killed Mitchell. Well, that's that, then. Just a minute, Miss Brooks. He must talk some more. But he keeps pleasing up on me. Oh, Valentine, see what you can get out of him, will you, huh? Well, okay, Lieutenant. It's so important that... someone know I didn't plan it. I mean, it to happen... You sure you want to go on? Oh, yes, yes, yes, I must. See, I never made anything out of my life. I never knew just what I wanted. Except a few times I'd come back here to town and pass that house on blisters. And then I knew what I always wanted. I never could have. You mean you've been coming back here all these years? Well, they never saw me. But this one time I knew I was getting old and sick. I went into the house and they were out. Yeah? I wanted to see what life was like for them. Living it so calmly, so peacefully. And suddenly I heard someone come in. I didn't know what to do. I ran into the closet. It was that opening in the ceiling. Somehow I climbed up there and that's where I've been staying. But how long? Oh, weeks. I don't know. It's hard to say. I don't think I could have stood if I didn't hear her moving about. But Sam Mitchell was your friend once. You could have talked to him. I thought of that too. But one night when she was away he walked in and he saw me in the kitchen. And I was scared of him for food just like a tramp. He didn't even know who I was. But don't try to sit up, Mr. House. Suddenly I felt nothing but hatred and envy. And I grabbed the stove, pokering. And I had no place to go. I went on living up there. When you found me in the kitchen last night you felt I was the intruder and you belonged in that house. You seem to think that she kept my man for 40 years. That's a long time, isn't it, young lady? Yes, a very long time. Yeah, I guess that's all I wanted to tell you. Sorry, but I'm beginning to feel very tired. I'll see that the lieutenant gets your story straight. Well, thank you. And I'll tell Mrs. McCauley there'll be no more ghosts on Bliss Terrace. That finely polished and precision-built engine that gives your car all its go can't be neglected. In fact, it needs more attention when you're asleep than when you're driving. And the reason for that is internal engine rust, which goes to work when condensed moisture begins to settle over parts. Nearly any ordinary oil can fight off rust when your car is running and there's full circulation of the lubricant. But RPM motor oil is compounded to protect the engine when it's running hot and when it's standing cold. Unlike ordinary oils, RPM doesn't run away from its job when you cut the motor. A special adhering compound in Arpen, an oil film on all engine parts, protects the interior of your engine from rust. And that's another reason why western motorists choose RPM motor oil 2 to 1 over any other motor oil. Get RPM at any standard station or independent chevron gas station where they say, and mean, we'll take better care of your car. Next week, when you tune our way for another adventure of George Valentine, you'll hear Lieutenant Riley saying, Valentine, when you tell me there was a girl sitting in this chair when you came in and that she had committed suicide, natural curiosity makes me ask, where is the bike? I don't know, Lieutenant, but she was there. If you ask me, my friend, somebody's taking you for a ride. And if you ask me, my friend, I'll keep saying it's Marsha Palmer who's been taken for a ride. And, Lieutenant, I intend to find out where and why. Tonight's adventure of George Valentine has been brought to you by Standard of California on behalf of independent chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West. Let George do it stars Robert Bailey as George with Frances Robertson as Claire. Wally Mayer appears as Lieutenant Riley. Tonight's story was written by David Victor and Herbert Little Jr. and directed by Don Clark. Also heard in the cast where Sarah Selby as Mrs. Macaulay, Virginia Gregg as Mrs. Mitchell, Stanley Farrar as Dr. Farrell, Howard McNeer as Paul Hough, and Alan Reed Jr. as Tommy Kaine. The music is composed and conducted by Eddie Dunstead, your announcer, John Heiston. Listen again next week, same time, same station to Let George Do It! This is the Mutual Don Lee Broadcasting System.