 from Hollywood. It's time now for... Johnny Dollar. Crutcher, Mr. Dollar. Mr. Crutcher at Continental Insurance Company. Oh, how are you, Mr. Crutcher? Tell me, are you familiar with the priest's expedition collection? Priest's expedition? Some of the relics, artifacts of considerable archaeological import that were excavated from the ruins of the city of Ur in the valley of the Euphrates. What? Findings from the temple erected to the God Bale, which proved of such historical value to students of the ancient Babylonian civilization, you know. I certainly don't know. But what about it? We carry some special insurance on that collection. And what's happened to it? Nothing yet. But I think you'd better come over and see me right away. OK, Mr. Crutcher, why not? Bob Bailey in the exciting adventures of the man with the action-packed expense account. America's fabulous freelance insurance investigator. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. And now, act one of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Expense accounts submitted by special investigator Johnny Dollar to the continental insurance company Hartford, Connecticut, following as an account of expenses incurred during my investigation of the loss of memory matter. Ancient Babylonia, Crutcher had said. So on the way down to his office, I stopped off at the library for a good look at the encyclopedia. And I learned that what was once Babylonia is now a part of the country of Iraq, one of the hotspots in the Middle East. Good, good. There might be some action, even international intrigue. On a map I found the location of the long-forgotten city of Ur, the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates River near the Persian Gulf was where it was. Romantic names, all of them. And not too far away, the exotic city of Baghdad. Yes, in long last, a trip to the Middle East. Middle East? Well, that's what the map said, Mr. Crutcher. Near West is more like it, Dollar. You must have misunderstood me. The relics from the Temple of the God Vale I mentioned are presently in the little town of Lakeview. Yes, right here in Connecticut. I guess I did misunderstand. They're owned by a Mr. Alvin Peabody Cartwright, who I might venture to say is a crackpot of the first order. But who happens to have placed a great deal of insurance with us on his life, property, art collection, and so forth? I see. You mentioned a priest's expedition collection. Of rare scrolls and tablets, principally, taken from excavations along the bank of the Euphrates River. Some of them over 4,000 years old, all of them of great historical and archaeological value. Here, this is a relatively unimportant piece that Mr. Cartwright gave to me some years ago. Well, what is it? What does it look like? Like a tiny sort of sofa pillow. Only it's made out of dried mud or some, hey, wait a minute. There are a lot of tiny marks on it. Hieroglyphics, Dollar. Those are a perfect example of the cuneiform writing that was used by the ancients. Oh, what does it say? Has anybody deciphered it? It's a receipt for 24 fat sheep, 12 oxen, and 12 goats that were taken to the temple for sacrifice to the great God Bale. Well, how about then? Does the whole collection consist of stuff like this? Yes. And a priceless scrolls made of papyrus and leather. You've heard of the Dead Sea Scrolls? Oh, yeah, sure. They throw so much light on biblical times. Yeah, they've had a lot of publicity in time in life and so on. Yes. Those in the priest's collection cover much of the history of the Canaanites and Phoenicians. And you've ensured the collection. It's this way. Mr. Cartwright has decided to sell it to the museum here in Hartford, has promised them that his stepson, Alfred Hawking, who lives with him, would deliver it to them today. But now he's suddenly worried to death that something will happen to it en route. So? So to keep him happy, we've issued a $20,000 transit policy. Well, then what's he worried about? Now he demands a guard for it, too. Well, doesn't he trust his stepson, this Alfred? Who knows? Who knows what old Cartwright thinks? Whom he trusts. Well, now look. And after all, $250 plus whatever expense account you can dream up for a couple of hours drive in the country. What if it's on? Oh, well, sure, why not? Expense account item two, $50 deposit on a rental car, in which I probably headed north and west on Highway 44. The 50-odd mile drive to Lakeview was easy and pleasant. Finding Cartwright's home was also easy. It sat prominently atop a hill on the outskirts of the little town, with perhaps two acres of ground around it. All of it looking worth a lot of money, yet rather seedy and rundown. Alvin, Peabody, Cartwright himself greeted me at the door. All right, take it your, Mr. Dollar. That's right, Mr. Cartwright. Let me see your credentials. Oh, well, yeah, sure. All right, here you are. Yes, all right, you can come in. This way, in my study, right here. And there, Mr. Dollar, is the box containing the Babylonian relics. That one carton is all that's to be delivered to the museum in Hartford? That's all. Young man, the contents of that sealed carton are worth $21,000. And it's sealed, you understand, so that neither you nor that worthless steps on the mind can get your hands on any part of it. Alfred, this is Mr. Dollar, Alfred Hockey. Hi, Dollar. Oh, sorry, I didn't see you sitting back there. Yeah. Now let me finish this phone call that you interrupted. You still there, Mr. Warring? All right, now, eh? Yes, he finally got here. Dollar's his name. That's right. Shall I sit down? Yeah, sure. Just you be sure he identifies himself. Yes, and that he's a company by my stupid step son. His name's Alfred Hockey. Now, if only one of them appears with the seals on the carton are broken, you're not to accept it. They can bring it back to me in a... No, no, no, call the police. Yes, that's what I said, call the police. Otherwise, give the money to Mr. Dollar, not to that half-wit step son of mine. I don't trust him. Now, they'll leave here shortly, and I... I know it's late, but Warring, just make sure that you're there waiting for them with the money. Goodbye. Mr. Cardright, yes? Well, uh, what? If you're so concerned about it, I can't help wondering why you haven't asked the police to guard this shipment for you. Because I don't trust them. I don't trust them anymore, and I trust this and I'm gonna call Alfred. Thanks. I don't trust anybody. Does that include me? Of course it does. Why do you suppose I'm having both of you take it over there? I'll tell you why, to keep an eye on each other. Now, get yourselves out of here and on the way to Hartford. Just be sure you bring that cash right back here to me tonight. You mean check, don't you? I mean cash. I don't believe in checks. I don't believe in banks. I don't trust them. I've kept all I have in my big safe here in the house for the past 47 years, and I intend to continue keeping it there, where I can watch over it myself. Now go on, you and this dumb Alfred, get out of here. Dumb Alfred? I'm not so sure. On the other hand, as we drove back toward Hartford with Alfred at the wheel, he said he knew a back-cut would be shortcut. I decided he just wasn't as clever as he'd like to be. Hey, hey, take it easy, Al. I'll give it to you straight, dollar. I'd hope the old buzzard let me make this delivery alone, because believe me, if he had, he'd never see one red center that 21 grand we're going to pick up. I take it you and your stepfather don't get along too well. That's putting in mild. But I'm telling you, boy, that once I figure a way to relieve him of his, though, he'll never see me again, 21,000 bucks. Boy, that would get me so far away from here. I tell you, you, uh, been living with him long? All my life, the crazy old Scrooge has never let me have any money of my own. And me, I got a right to blow myself, have a little fun, as much as anybody. Well, maybe he thinks you ought to work for him. Hey, you better slow down, Al. Work, did you say? When he's got more than 11, he'll be able to use stash the win at Old Stafe in the cellar? Why should I have to work? Hey, I said take it easy, Al. Why don't those trucks stay off those back country roads? Come on, Al. Why should I work when all I need to do is to get my hands on some of that pile he's got in the safe? And I can live like a king. He'll never spend it. And he'll never leave it to me when he kicks off. Knock them off myself, but believe me. Al, look, just stop this crate and let me take the wheel. Yeah, why? Or with all your ranting and raving, you're all over the road. Sure, OK, OK. Sure, you can drive. Well, stop. Sure, stop. Look out, we'll skip. Let us skip. Look out! There was a long, long period of deep dull blackness without sound, without feeling. And then slowly, hazyly, the light came back. But it wasn't clear. Everything seemed very confusing, very vague. I was conscious of a terrible throbbing in my head. And then it slowly passed, leaving only a dull ache, a strange and helpless feeling of not knowing who or what or where I was until the shadow of a man rose from the ground beside me. Slowly took definite form as it waved it for a moment, then stood over me. How about you, boy? Back to the world again? World? Yeah, you really hit that windshield frame. Here, let me help you sit up, lean up against the slough to the car. Car? Sure. Yeah, this is the wreck we cracked up in. There you are. Nothing busted. You were just knocked out, cracked up. Sure. And away to Hartford. Hartford? Hey, what's the matter with you? I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything. What do you mean? I'd not anything. I can't remember. My mind is all blank. You know who you are, don't you? No. What? No, and my head, it's just, it's, look, look, look, look, are you, are you kidding me? Hartford? Clarence? Sure, sure, Hartford, to deliver some stuff and collect the big water. You're sure you don't remember? Don't remember. Not even who you are. I remember. I'm trying to figure out how it's going to be. Oh, OK, Lana. Listen, listen, listen. Everything's going to be OK, real OK. You want to know who you are, huh? Yeah, who I am. Sure, sure you do. And I'll tell you, your name is Hawking. Alfred Hawking. Alfred. That's right, yeah. You're Alfred Hawking. We were driving along here in the car. See, I was. You were keeping me company, you get it? Yeah, I guess so. Yeah, sure, sure. You see, I have to deliver some stuff in Hartford. It's in this box here in the car. You see it? Box. Oh, yeah. Yeah, you just came along for the ride. The ride to Hartford, see? Oh. Yeah, and after I deliver this stuff and pick up the, make a little pick up that is why then you and me will part and you go on merry ways, you see? I, I, I don't know. I guess so. Sure you do, sure, sure you do. Yeah, sure you do. You feel better now, huh? Yeah, yeah, much. I, if only my head were clear, if only I could remember something, anything. Look, look, you're going to be OK, Al. Al. I'm Al. That's right. Yeah, you, I, I can't remember, huh? Who are you, me? My name is Johnny Dollar. Dollar. Yeah, yeah, remember that. Johnny Dollar. That's right. Yeah. Back to of yours truly, Johnny Dollar, in a moment. We sometimes wonder, what is the life of a human being really worth? Not too much? Or maybe a great deal. Does it depend on whose life it is? Whatever the answer, one thing is certain. Fred Hargisheimer, since World War II, has felt that his life is worth quite a lot, quite a lot of gratitude. During the war in the Pacific about June of 1943, Lieutenant Hargisheimer had his P-38 fighter plane shot out of the sky. Badly wounded, he bailed out over a tiny island. New Britain. It looked pretty small from where he hit the silk, but he found it much bigger when he hit the ground. It was bigger and in complete control of the enemy. But Hargisheimer was lucky. After a month of lonely hiding, he was found by a group of friendly natives from the village of Nantambu. They cared for him and successfully hid him from enemy patrols for the next four months at the risk of their own lives. Then Hargisheimer was able to make it back to civilization. For the next 17 years, Fred Hargisheimer thought about those wonderful people of Nantambu. 12,000 miles away in the United States of America, Hargisheimer put a great plan into effect. He made speeches, took up collections, sold jewelry belonging to his family, and worked out a way to bring a bit of civilization and happiness to the little village of Nantambu. Needless to say, the villagers gave him a spectacular welcome upon his return. Fred Hargisheimer showed his gratitude to the people who had saved his life. But life is worth little without freedom. The right of all men, everywhere. Now, act too of yours truly, Johnny Dollar, and the loss of memory matters. Amnesia, sudden, complete amnesia. All feeling of other helplessness that goes with it. The man who was with me told me of the crack-up of our car on the way to a place he called Hartford. Hartford, my nothing to me. Now, did I recognize anything in the countryside, or the road, or we sat waiting, hoping someone would pick us up? Names, places, I remembered nothing. Not even who I was, or who the man with me was. That's right. Dollar. I'm Johnny Dollar. I see, and your name is Hawking, Alfred Hawking. Hawking, yeah. Yeah, you're feeling better, aren't you? Yeah, I think so. Look in the pocket of your coat, Hawking. Isn't there a billfold there? Yeah, yeah, open it up. Yeah, here's a name in it. Sure, see? Alfred P. Hawking. That's right, that's you. I'm Johnny Dollar. Just remember that, and everything will be all right. Ah, why don't some truck come along and pick us up or a car? What, uh, what are we doing out here, Johnny? You see this box? Well, I've got orders to deliver to the museum in Hartford. Museum, huh? What's in it? Or just some old relics, then I'll collect the money for it, and that'll be that. You can be on your merry way, okay? Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. Sure. But how come I'm going with you, Johnny? Why, uh, you live in Hartford, see? How, I see. You didn't even know that. You still don't remember anything. Only what's happened since I woke up here? Look now. Yeah. Why, why don't you take me home first if we can get a ride, that is, and maybe if I rest I'll feel better. No, no. Maybe my mind'll clear up. No, no, first the museum. But, Johnny. All right, listen. The crazy old coup d'oeuvre I'm delivering this stuff for, well, he phoned ahead that there'd be two of us, see? So you've got to come along to the museum. Museum? Yeah, yeah, the museum, the one in Hartford, like I told you. Oh, yes. But once I get the money for it, I'll take care of you. Yeah, I'll take care of you. You've done pretty good as it is, I guess. Sure I have, doll. Owl, I mean. I've pulled you out of the wreck and all. Hey, look, here comes a big moving van, and if I know those boys, he'll pick us up. Come on, get up on your feet and we'll flag him down. The helpful driver of the big cross-country truck picked us up and was all forgetting me to a hospital before anything else. But my companion, who called himself Johnny Dollar, assured him he'd do it as soon as our mission was accomplished. So the driver agreed to take us directly to the museum, Johnny had mentioned. Johnny Dollar? The name had a strangely familiar sound, but I couldn't remember. Finally in the city, they told me it was Hartford. We pulled up in front of a large, rather imposing, granite building. You sure somebody will still be there waiting to meet you, mister? It's getting pretty late. Don't worry, driver. That'll be somebody all right. OK, but you're sure you don't want any wait and take your friend Al to a hospital? Like I told you, the minute we're through here, I'll take care of him. Come on, Owl. Sure. Thanks, driver. Yeah, thanks. OK, boys. If I couldn't give somebody in trouble a hand, I'd have no business driving this rig. Funny. Here's your package. Oh, thanks again. Now, come on, Owl. OK, Jimmy. I'll do all the talking, and you just remember who you are. Sure. Let me help you carry that. You can just push the bell button there, besides. Well, it's about time. Which of you is Mr. Dollar? That's me. Hi, Mr. Waring. Here's my credentials. Oh, yes, yes, yes. Then you were Al Hawking. Oh, yes. This is Mr. Carter, I said, on the phone. But what happened to you? I had a little car accident on the way. Oh, yes. Are you feeling all right, Mr. Hawking? Well, I'll mind you. Oh, sure, sure. I'm going to take care of him as soon as we leave here. So if you don't mind, you've got something for me, haven't you? Of course. Uh-huh. Seals are still intact. Sure are, in spite of the accident. Oh, very well. If you step inside, I'll give you the money. Good, good. Come on. Al, I must confess my bewildered mind was somewhat puzzled with what happened next. Mr. Waring opened a small wall safe and handed my companion a package. From it, he extracted and counted almost greedily $21,000. He signed a receipt, accepted a receipt for the packet of bills. Then we left the museum and hailed a taxi. Hey, buddy, you know what? Drive your own car, place it's still open. Sure do. Then take it there. And there's an extra fint for you if you step on it. All right, you are. Johnny, can't the cabbie take me home first? I said I'd take care of you, didn't I? All right now, don't ask any questions. We haven't got time. Maybe I had lost all memory. Maybe my mind was befuddled, confused. The pain in my head nearly driving me out of whatever sanity I'd retained. Nonetheless, I had a strange feeling that things weren't what they should be. Still, my friend, this Johnny Dollar, who'd saved me from the wrecked car, if only I could remember things before we cracked up. There was something strange, too, in the way he slowly, painstakingly signed the application for the drive of your own car, looking carefully all the while at the license he pulled out of his pocket. Then a few minutes later, we were on the road again, we were heading according to the highway signs out of town and heard a place called Danbury on Route 6. These rental cars could stand a little soupin' up. Look, Johnny, I thought you were going to take me home. I am. But you said I live in Hartford. Listen, if I know that stepfather of yours, the sooner we get out of the state... What? What were you going to say? Nothing, nothing. Now, listen, I gotta get you to a hospital, see, and the best one I know is over the line in New York. You want to get your memory back, don't you? Yeah, sure, but now look, Al. Huh? What'd you say? That's funny. I called you, Al. What's funny about it? Sure, you aren't beginning to remember things, huh? How about it? I wish to have it in court. But now, look, Johnny, there's something funny about all this. I may be a bit muddled after that crack-up we were in, but it seems... It's a little muddle. That's the reason you're getting crazy ideas, but don't. See, just quit thinking and relax so you might do something you'd be sorry for. Yeah, real sorry. This determination of his to get across the state line, things were wrong, and I knew it. But I didn't know why. A man's judgment is based on his experience, or his reasoning power is based on things he's done nor that have happened to him or, at the very least, what he's known about in the past. And all of my knowledge of the past was gone from me. Anything I might do or say at this point would probably be wrong. So how could I argue with this Johnny dollar? What's more, he had a gun. I felt it in his pocket when he bumped against me. Perhaps if I had a gun, I could stop him. Demand an explanation. I felt that I should. Why? I didn't know why, but somehow. Johnny. Yeah? Why are you so anxious to get into another state? I told you to get you to a hospital, now shut up. Oh, listen to me. Don't ask questions. Just leave everything to me. Well, why is driving all this distance 50 or 60 miles now better than if you'd taken me to a hospital or a doctor back in Hartford? I told you to stop asking questions. Johnny, why do you carry a gun? Why shouldn't I? Don't worry about it. Are you supposed to? Sure, sure. I got a permit, so forget it. Let me see it. Hey, what is this? Later. Now. Later, I said. Then I don't believe you. All right, all right, then here. Look in his card case. I looked at Johnny Donner's card case. His driver's license, business cars, and said he was a freelance insurance investigator. And again, something vaguely familiar stirred in my cloudy mind. You find it yet? And then an identification card with thumbprint snapshot. And the picture was not of the man beside me. Instinctively, I leaned over to look into the rear view mirror to look at myself. But he pulled the gun from his pocket. And before I could do it, he struck me hard across the head. Oh! I'm going to stop with that gun. That's right. That was a mistake. Because of that second blow on the head. Why have we stopped? You'll see. You see, you gave me an idea about this gun. Now get out. Sure. Why not? Look down over the side of the road there. What about it? See that deep ravine down there? Why? Al? That's why. Because you called me Al. And this time you meant it. Yeah, I guess I did. Thanks to that poke on the head. So you got some of your memory back, huh? But not your strength. No. So before you do. No, put that away. I'm going to get away. Expense account total so far, $95 even, including Dr. Bills. Repair bill on rental car is still to come. And strangely enough, old kindred is perfectly willing to pay it at any of the expenses that may be involved. He's a changed man with his chiseling steps on out from underfoot. Also, I'll be required to appear in court against Alfred Hocking. And there'll be expenses involved there, too. The extra $500 cart ride insisted I take doesn't go in this account since it came out of his own pocket. Not bad for just a couple of wallops on the head, huh? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Here's our star to tell you about next week's story. Next week? Well, it's another case of mistaken identity, but believe me, a completely different affair. Join us, won't you? Yours truly, Johnny Dollar. Yours truly, Johnny Dollar, starring Bob Bailey, originates in Hollywood. It is produced and directed by Jack Johnstone, who also wrote tonight's story. Heard in our cast were Les Tremaine, Parley Bear, Joseph Kearns, Barney Phillips, Tom Henley, and Shepard Menken. Musical supervision is by Emery-Go-Marino. Be sure to join us next week. Same time and station for another exciting story of yours truly, Johnny Dollar. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.