 The Adventures of Sam Spade Detective brought to you by Wild Root Cream Oil Hair Tonic, the non-alcoholic hair tonic that contains lanolin and new Wild Root Liquid Cream Shampoo. Hey sweetheart. Wild Root Cream Oil had a special thrill out of buying things the whole family. Stop at your drug or toilet goods counter for a big family size bottle or tube of Wild Root only hair tonic. Dad, Junior, Sis, yes and you yourself mom will find Wild Root Cream Oil ideal for grooming the hair neatly and naturally for relieving dryness and removing loose dandruff. So mom, ask for it tonight or tomorrow for sure. Wild Root Cream Oil Hair Tonic. Again and again the choice of men and women and children too. And now with Howard Duff starring his spade, Wild Root brings to the air the greatest private detective of them all in The Adventures of Sam Spade. Move over to one side of the harvest. To make room for the other desk and the bookcase. There'll be no other desk and no bookcase and no anything else. Say it. Don't even think about that name. You understand? It's deliciously silent in here, don't you think F? Would you like to have your mouth dry cleaned? The stars have taken their toll on my nerves. Perhaps I should unburden myself. We'd all feel better. All right, sis. Unburden yourself? I'm still in command here. To Mrs. Wellington Van Cleave, Montague, Nob Hill, where else city? From Samuel Spade, license number 137-596. What else? Subject the Flopsy, Mobsy and Cottontail Gaper or our Fritz Crockett saved the day. My dear, dear Mrs. Montague. It all began Thursday afternoon when I entered my office and discovered a tall, wiry young man sitting in my chair with his feet up on my desk and sampling my office bottle. The pose was so familiar. For a minute I thought it was me. Nice. I think I will, the one you're sitting in. You see, the detective sets a mat seat and the client sits over there. Well, that's- We like in this office is Sam Spade, see. He pays the rent, he hires the secretary, he earns the money, and he sits behind his desk. Now on your feet. Mind if I have a drink? Out of my glass? You better make a note to get another glass too. And some scotch. I don't care much for that bourbon. No self-respecting detective drinks scotch. And put this down. We'll need another desk and a new paint job and these walls. Like Robin's Egg Blue, maybe. Soothes the nervous clients. And a bookshelf. You got that, Effie, dear? Or am I going too fast? I'll have a look with you while Sam, you'll appreciate me. So long. I'm great. Bye. You need me. Why? Because we'd be an unbeatable team with my talent and your luck we couldn't miss. Luck? Ever hear of Fritz Crockett? Chicago Fritz Crockett? Yeah. Never heard of him. Awesome. Look, you're making a mark in your hometown. Now why do you want to work for me in San Francisco? I lost my license in Chicago. Got caught on the hot side of a political battle. Worked for the losers and the winners framed me for my license. Oh gee, tough kid. That's tough. I can't get a license in any state until I clear that mess up. And so I have to work under somebody else's. Say yes, but why me? Because I've kept my eye on you, Sam. I like the way you're developing. I think you could work well with me. Gee, thanks. Well, your application's received now. Give me a couple of years What's the matter, Sam? I'm afraid I might cut your reputation in town. You're farming out. But anyway, bye. Check on, huh? Look, you want to compare a scrapbook sometime? A really good detective's got to be an actor. I play any style. Listen, we're following a Russian countess to recover Gorky's original manuscript of the lower depths. I meet her in the lobby of the St. Mark, disguised as an itinerant caviar salesman. Countess McFletcher Mishakov? Oh, here in San Francisco, my dear. How long has it been? Eight years? Twelve years? Have you forgotten little Andres? Uh, Andrea, Andrea, sorry, sorry. No cashing today. Well, look, we're dealing a mortal blow to the gun-running career of Don Jose Ortega Sanchez, the notorious bandit king. Oh, uh, Don Jose! You have run your last peace-loving border countries. I am powerless to prevent your execution. Die like the proud Spanish you are. Cigarette? At first, if I haven't say, please. I help you, Sam. Look, you've been captured by a mutinous crew off an English tramp steamer, and I burst through the door. Get your bloomin' bloody hands off that man! This one I can do myself off a mode, Tigger. Out of a one-man theater guild, he ran through 28 dialects, played a scene in which James Mason and Montgomery Cliff were trapped by an Armenian rug merchant and were saved by the voice of Gabriel Heeter on the radio. Then he played all four of the March brothers arguing with the Andrews sisters. Then after the intermission, he told me a little bit about himself, regaling me with spine-tingling accounts of his Frank Meriwell type achievements on the football field, in professional boxing and hockey. It was pretty thrilling stuff, but nonetheless, I was about to usher him out when he came up with a particularly good bit of dialogue. I have a job for us! Yeah, well, so... John, where? Yesterday, Sam, I met an old friend from Chicago. She remembered me from an important cocktail party. Saved it for her, the party. Everyone was absolutely dreary until I became Dory Go with a brace of amusing anecdotes. The job, Fred's the job. Oh, yeah. Well, anyway, she wants us to guard a valuable hunk of jewelry at a party tonight on Knob Hill. What's the money? A hundred a piece, plus mingling with notch dancers and all the caviar we can eat. Well, that was better than I expected, in fact. Now, here's what I want you to do. Oh, wait a minute. What's this here's what I want you to do? This is the Sam Spade Detective Agency, name so, because Sam Spade is the man who gives the orders around here. Now, what do you want me to do? Well, this is a costume party and we have to wear costumes. It's in the deal. Good. I'll break your leg and you can go as the man who came to dinner. Sam, I already have the costumes. Right here. Crockett, what would you have done if I didn't go with you? The thought never ended my head, Sam. What are the costumes? Sam, one hundred clams a piece is a lot of dough, isn't it? I agree. You are about to confront the reason we are being paid so much. What is that? Your costume. You were to go as a rabbit, a white rabbit. Here's the suit. Oh, and here's the head. Notice the shocking pink ears. Now, the deal's off. It's been swell, Fred. Now, wait a minute. I am also going as a rabbit. See, you will go as flopsie and I will go as mobs. I will not go anywhere dressed in that ridiculous outfit. One hundred dollars, Sam. I will... Now, look, I will talk to you as a businessman might talk to you. Now, Mr. Speed, you take your ordinary type to... And around eight o'clock that night, I found myself still talking and walking up the steps of your knob hill mansion, Mrs. Montague. Cleverly disguised as flopsie the rabbit, poor in poor with mobsy Crockett. My headpiece covered everything but my eyes, nose, and mouth, and I was grateful for that. When I passed the doorman, I was tempted to say, ah, what's up, doc? But Fritz said it ahead of me. He walked in as if this were his personal hutch, and you, Mrs. Montague, cruised over to us. Inside you both just darling. Which one of you is Mr. Spade? Well, I'm Mr. Crockett, Mrs. Montague, mobsy. You remember me from the Nesbitt, soiree, Ronnie, and Benita, or maybe it was Gypsy introduced us? Nespa. See, here must be Mr. Spade. I've always wanted to meet him. Thank you, Mrs. Montague. I am the straight man. How do you like my costume? There's not another one like it in town. I'm the only wood nymph in San Francisco. The trains will swoon, they will. Ah, if you'd be disposed to outline our job. Well, of course, Mr. Crockett. Myself, Mrs. Arlington Crippett-McGill, and the famous Spanish artist Julio de Riego, are going to pick the woman with the most fascinating costume. Sir, it's no father, it could be no one, but you. Flutterer! I'm not eligible. Then at 10 o'clock we will have the grand parade. The winner will leave the parade wearing a small, jewel-studded crown. Oh, it's darling. Diamonds and emeralds and all sorts of amusing things. Well, this crown once belonged to Josephine of France. Imagine! And Mrs. Montague, I hate to be an old killjoy, but are we here to, uh, guide the crown? That's right, lastly, if I meet Mr. Spade. Oh, sorry. Oh, of course, I don't expect any trouble, but it's so valuable, I can't take any chances. My husband picked it up in Iran. He's in pickles, you know. Well, you know best. Uh, where is the crown now, Mrs. Montague? Oh, in a wall safe in the master bedroom on the second floor. Here's the combination of the safe written down. I'd rather not have the combination, if you don't mind, until it's time to get the crown. Oh, now don't you be silly, Mr. Spade. Except for the crown, there's only $50,000, $60,000 in the safe. Oh, well, if that's all right. Now, the safe is behind the Degas original. Now, until I need you, go and enjoy yourself. Well, we'll go. Maybe I'll even let you dance with little me. I synchronized our watches and decided that until we were needed, we would lose ourselves in the crowd and keep our big rabbit ears open. Everybody was masked and loaded and was all very gay. I brushed our bows with pirates, Northwest-mounted police, unmounted, a gorilla, an Arabian princess, four Pocahontasie, and assorted historical characters from Julius Caesar to Mike Romanoff. While I was dipping a carrot into the punch bowl, a girl met her way over to me. I knew it was a girl immediately, you could tell. I fagged her as a burlesque queen, but she didn't talk much like you. Are you an Iboni or a Shiboni? Uh, I'm a Iboni. Would you like to dance with me? I'd be delighted. Who are you? I'm not supposed to tell until the mask come on, but for now, just call me Flopsie. Flopsie, how cute! You Americans have the cutest ideas. Yes, speaking of ideas, what do you represent? Oh, I am a Folly Berger dancer. Do you like me? Oh, from where I stand, it would be next to impossible that that's like you. That's me. Don't believe me. It was easy. Tell me, have you been in this country long? A few weeks. My family has sent me on a tour of America. I see. I am here as a guest of Monsieur Montague. Now tell me, you are a detective, are you not? As much as I regretted doing it, I hastily detached myself from Miss Folly's Berger of 1949. How she knew I was a defective possibly. I saw Crockett talking with a punchy red devil in a middle-aged Christopher Columbus and stopped by. They were big businessmen, obviously, and so, so was he. Well, now you take your ordinary harsh tape of brice of e-double duty fortunate. It was impossible to interrupt him, so I moved on. Finally, I sat down to rest in a dim corner of the library, and I noticed in the dead, and a large green pickle with two bandy legs sticking out of it sat down beside me. Want to bite a pickle? No, thanks. Go ahead, it's free. I only eat carrots. Thank you, just the same. Hey, won't you know who I am? As a matter of fact, I don't know. Well, I shouldn't tell you, but I'm lonesome for somebody to talk to. Yeah, my wife's dancing with another man. Sometimes I think she only likes me for my money. I find that hard to believe. I have millions, you know, just millions. I'm Horace Montague, the Pickle King. I've sold more pickles than any living man. Congratulations. You like my costume? Never smelled anything like it. And I came this time. It's just an ordinary new pickle. Sometimes that comes with dill, sometimes that comes with gherkin. How jolly. Once I came as a sweet sour mixture, and I got very confused. Well, that's up to you. I guess all I really have is my money, which I get tired of being so rich. It was fun in the early days. I was a pioneer, you know. You started, I suppose, with just a wart. Well, that's very funny. Very funny. Yes. Well, keep laughing, Horace. I have to be running along. Thank you for talking to me. I was beginning to feel like an extra in Alice in Wonderland and headed back for the solace of the Punch Bowl. I saw a moffsy Crockett standing with a Folies Bajette dancer and went over to him. But he suddenly turned and hopped away faster than I could hop after him. Why the coiness, I couldn't understand. When I finally caught up with him, ten minutes later, he was waltzing with Anne of Austria, who was hanging on his every word. And that was a lot of hanging. I can't believe you're dying until you've tasted my lame kuchen. You have the spirit of Goethe, Sheila, Heine, all baked in one kuchen. Mind if I cut in? If you must. I mean with the other rabbit. Come along, moffsy. Well, of all... Sam, what do you hear from the mind? The idea of avoiding me. Me? Avoid you? I don't know what you mean. Crockett, don't you remember just ten minutes ago, my chasing you all over the floor? So help me, I don't. Mrs. Montague. All right, you can give me the crown now. I'm almost ready to announce the winner of the costume contest. We haven't taken it out yet, Mrs. Montague. You haven't, where you just said you were going to get it. I didn't. Did you, Fritz? Not I, Flopsy. Now, running, one of you came up to me a couple of minutes ago and said you lost the combination to the safe, so I gave it to you again. You said you were going to get the crown. Now, where is it? I don't know, but let's find it. The Degas original was down off the wall. The safe had been opened. Believe it or not, the 50 or 60 thousand dollars eventually kept in it wasn't even touched. But you, Mrs. Montague, weren't worried about the cash. Mrs. Montague. Sorry, you were supposed to guard it. It's your fault. Maybe you stole it yourself. Mrs. Montague, we did nothing of the kind. I distinctly remember saying, you know what happened, Hobbit? He took off my pickle. Oh! He hit me on the head with something, and he took off his bunny suit, jumped right into my pickle and ran off. The pickle king had abdicated. On the floor was the limp, unfilled costume of A. Rabbit. The Montague's party not only had a flopsie and a mobsie, but it also had a thieving cotton tail. Sure of Daschle Hammett's famous private detective, sadly and on the job, listen. 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Hello, Mrs. Sam, attending to Horace in your master bedroom and pounding down the stairs through the guests and out the front door. I was standing there wondering where to pick up the tracks of a rabbit-turned-tickle. When I saw the Fully's Berger dancer come running out of a Montague mansion through a side entrance and had her a taxi, I jumped into another cab and followed it, investing myself in my flopsie costume, our roots. She went almost to the west end of a feral street and entered a shabby gray apartment house. I followed. I knocked on every door until I found hers. Yes? It's me, the heap on the flopsie, remember? Why did you follow me here? For love, because you're so beautiful. May I come in? No. Thanks. I said no. Did you not hear me? Yes, but have no fears. I'm bonded. How did you know there was a detective's heart beating under my rabbit suit? I am not going to answer. You have no right to come in here. Come on, huh? I think I overheard somebody say it. Now if that is all you wanted to know, please go. Why did you leave the party early? Because it bored me. I thought America was not a police state. Why am I being questioned? Because somebody stole the Josephine crown that belonged to Mrs. Montague, you see. I heard that it was stolen and I am delighted, but I did not steal it. What's your name? Charmaine Rogé, and what is yours? Sam Spade. Why are you so happy that the crown was stolen? Because it does not belong in the ugly home of a rich American party giver, the childish woman who thinks only of her social position and her money. Where does it belong? In France, where it was made and where it was appreciated. I see. How much is it worth? Money? For almost 52 million francs. And sentiment more than one can say. Now, will you leave me alone? You're saying that the crown means more to a Frenchman than money, hmm? How would you like it if your Abraham Lincoln's desk was being used by some French businessman to serve cocktails over? I get the point. I tell you again, I do not know what happened to the Josephine crown tonight. Do you believe me? I did, but only because when she left the party, she wore only her costume, and that costume wouldn't have hidden, uh... Well, she couldn't have had it on her. I, uh, went to block up the street, picked up a cab and sat at it until she came out five minutes later. She was now in street clothes and carrying an overnight case. She drove to Castle Street and I followed. She went into a restaurant called La Parisienne. I waited a discreet moment, then went in. She was nowhere to be seen. But a tall, lean, black-haired individual approached me with a menu in his hand. Good evening, monsieur. I regret to say that we are just closed. I'm not interested in meeting you. Where's the girl who just came in? Girl? In here? Don't dummy on me. She walked right in here 30 seconds ago. Brown hair, red coat, charmé and rosier by name. You have made some mistake. You can see there was no one here. I have made no mistake. Now, complain, will you? Monsieur, complain yourself. Please, let me go. No girl came in, but if one did, there is no place to hide but the kitchen. All right, then show me the kitchen. You will know. Well, I didn't say too long to get here, Mr. Marigil. Well, I... I have a knife at your neck. Yes, I feel it. Shall I take care of him, monsieur? You will know. Put down your knife. Thanks. If you're spading, I'll sit down at the table and talk quietly. You can go. As you say, monsieur. But I will keep out an eye. Let's keep an eye out. Sit down, please. Bade, while you're here, I have a personal matter to take up with you. About the Josephine crown. Yes. Well, I'm sorry to report that as yet I haven't found it. Good. I'd be happy if you never found it. Uh-huh. Does Mrs. Marigil know you fell this way? No, and I'd be equally happy if she didn't know. In other words, you want me to stop looking for it. That's the idea. Oh, you could make a pretence and try and define it, but no more. That's interesting. I'll pay you a good fee if you do this for me. Why don't you want it found, Mr. Marigil? Well, I'll talk to you man to man. What is it, though? A French girl showed up in town. Charmé Rajet? Well, didn't you see her? Quite a bit of her. At the party. Well, she's young and beautiful, and to the point I was indiscreet. I see. She turned out to be more designing than I realized. Black man? Never saw her. She didn't want just money. She wanted the Josephine crown. And you let them steal it. Well, I told them I'd get them into the party and furnish them a car, and the rest is up to them. Why don't you just give them the crown? Well, I couldn't. My wife values it too much. She's her prized position. She even wears it around the house when just the two of us are there. Oh, that's cute. Now, would you forget about this, Spade? I'm afraid not, Mr. Marigil. I'm hired out to your wife who asked me to guard it. I did a bad job, so it's up to me to get it back, you see? No, Spade, I can't afford to scandal with that girl. Well, you'll have to work that out for yourself. Very well. I'm sorry. I must admit, Mrs. Marigil, I underestimated your husband. For at that point, he produced a gun out of thin air and very professionally relieved me of mine. He called the proprietor, Bono, who appeared with Charmaine Roget. They held an immediate kangaroo court. Sentence was about to be pronounced. When the front door burst open, Annie inswept a tall character in black beret and cape and sporting a handlebar moustache. Prominently pinned on his cape were a brace of French war medals, including the Croix de Guerre and so on. His entrance held everybody bug-eyed, including me. Keep your mouth shut, Spade. Low of wrong, friendship fills the room like a cottage fireplace in Alsace, Lorraine. And not truly my auntie, my me, Mr. Montagueux. Kiss you on both cheeks in happiness. Who? I don't seem to remember. Oh, but you have not so soon forgotten me. We met at a legation in 38. Those years. Do you not recall the nights in Montmartre and the days in Montmartre? Oh, my goodness. When he bent over to kiss Marigil again, his moustache fell off. As usual, Croquet had overplayed. And before he got straightened up, Bonneau hit him in the back of the head and he fell flat on his face out close. That was my cue to go into action. I turned over the table and wrestled with Horace and Bonneau while Charmaine was striking at me with a heel of a shoe. I got to the gun first and everything came to a sudden low. At that point, Fritz Croquet came too. Mes amis, where did the sudden darkness come from? Yeah, well, you can drop the dialect, Croquet. I wish I had a picture of you there on the floor for your scrapbook. Oh, it was in the act, Sam, all in the act. Yeah, well, you think you're well enough to hold this gun while I make a search? Oh, leave it to me, Sam. Everything will be under control. Now, stand back, everybody. I'm in charge here. The U.S. government is not entirely without influence in Washington. The woman struck a blow with Franco-American relations until a search of Charmaine Rouget and Bonneau produced two tickets not to Paris, but points French, but to Rio de Janeiro. Safely back to Laval France, I was overjoyed to be in a position to recommend you and stays over there. Period, end of report. Oh, Croquet, an exciting man. Don't let's talk any more about him. Let him get his own program. The first person in his office to mention his name again is a rotten egg. Now, go type that up. Get the one kind they all like. Wild root cream oil hair tonic. Wild root cream oil grooms your hair neatly and naturally, relieves annoying dryness, and removes loose, ugly dandruff. Get a bottle or two of tonight and ask your barber for a professional application of wild root cream oil hair tonic. Again and again, the choice of men and women and children too.