 Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gut of the prison of the grave. The lady tourist was a school teacher out after glamour and she got it. But only after she learned that in Hollywood the three hours could be read and done in a dark room, right and found in a dead man's pocket in arithmetic, that added up to murder times two. From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction comes his most famous character in The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. Now, with Gerald Moore starred as Philip Marlowe, we bring you tonight's transcribe story, The Rustin Hickory. It was hot in my apartment, even at 10 o'clock at night. The sultry wind blowing through curtains at the far side of the room didn't help a bit. It was the kind of night that made me wish I was something else, a butcher, baker, candlestick maker, anything. After a long hot day spent in the downtown courts of law listening to the petty arguments of a petty Lossony case, I was tired of petty people. The paper I had picked up on my way home wasn't helping any of it. Ten killed in an air crash. Mental cruelty, says local songbird. I made myself another highball, lots of ice, easy with water, and picked up the paper again. It was still more of the same. Sinester killed in office on Sunset Strip. Sinester. He'd hit the papers before. Bookie, B-minus, picture producer, General Racketeer. Somehow I wasn't too surprised he was on the receiving end for a change. My drink was good for ten more pages of equally dull reading, and I was set for the next in line when the phone rang. Philip Marlowe. It was the first attractive voice I'd heard all day. Mr. Marlowe? And you know, I thought she might be fun. My name is Joan Rustin, and I'm only here in Hollywood from Ferndale, Nebraska on a vacation, and I wanted to have some fun. You know, see the nightclubs and the stars and that sort of thing. Wait a minute, Joan. I took my trouble, Mr. Marlowe. At least I've already... Hey! Yes? Let's back up a little, huh? Your name is Joan Rustin. You're from Ferndale, Nebraska, which you're right I've never heard of. Also, you're a schoolteacher. That much I got. But the rest about the sights, the last part, the trouble with... Oh, well, don't you see, they're the one and the same. Oh? I wanted to step out. Nightclubs, movie stars, glamour. But it didn't end up like that because he was shot and then I didn't know what to do. Who was shot? And his name's Aubrey Nickel. He's the man who took me out to show me the clubs. Anyhow, after it happened, I ran. Why? Why? The publicity, of course. Mr. Marlowe, I'd lose my job. You see, I'm a schoolteacher. Yeah, you said that, honey. Now look, where are you, Joan? The jail of room. It's a bar on Sunset and La Cienica Boulevard. You'll come right over, huh? Yeah, I'll come right over, huh? Goodbye, Joan. Marlowe? Yeah, but where are you? Over here in this boon, Curry. Okay, hurry it is. Hello. Hey, all the secrecy, India. Oh. What are you staring at? You. I expected braids, Joan. Horn rims, calico, maybe. Not ice-blue satin, drape plunging, and, uh... Yes? Yes. Start at the top, honey, and slow this time, huh? Well, yesterday I met this man, this Aubrey Nickel I mentioned. Oh, he's really nice, Mr. Marlowe. He's a photographer, has a darling place up on the Sunset, uh... Sunset Strip. You want that to have your picture taken? I wanted something, well, something glamorous. That's easy. And look, look here what I got. Oh, uh, by the way, I ordered a drink for you. A Scott's drink. Here. You like Scott's drinks, don't you? Yeah, I, uh... Scott's drinks are my favorite drinks, Joan. Thanks. You're welcome. Now, isn't it wonderful? The picture, I mean. I'll say it is. I'd never say school teacher. No, that's the idea. Just like a model in a fashion magazine, isn't it? Aubrey took it from inside his photo shop while I was outside on the street looking in his window. You know, like a smart career girl just strolling along the avenue. And see how he faded out the background. That way I'm the, uh, the focal center. Focal center. Isn't it nice? Oh, yes it is, yeah. But look, Joan, the rest of the story. Now, the man was shot. You don't want publicity, remember? Oh, yes, yes, of course. Well, we made a date, Mr. Marlowe, for tonight. I was to be at his place, his shop on the Strip at 8, which I was. But when I got there... He was gone. Well, oh, he might just as well have been for all the attention he paid to me. He was acting on his mind. Acted as though he didn't even expect me. Why, I had to mention his picture here twice before he got it out of the drawer for me. But then, just like that, he changed. Said if I wanted glamour and nightclubs, why not? Oh, by all means, why not? And off we went to Cyrano's no less and sat at a table with two men and a woman who was actually Ermgard Fury. Actually who? Ermgard Fury, the starlet. Don't you read the papers? Oh, golly, her picture's been in every theater section in magazine for the last six months. Ermgard Fury, she has red hair. A figure, lots of each. Oh, that's right. Oh, and so sweet to talk to. Well, believe it or not, when we were in the powder room and she couldn't find her lipstick, she used mine. Now, that's really democratic. Look, Joan, there was a shooting. You remember that now. You were sitting at a table with three men and this Ermgard Fury. That's right. Well, go on. What happened next? Well, when Miss Fury and I got back to the table, Mr. Lacey and his friend were gone. He refused to excuse himself to make a phone call. And then? And then a waiter brought me a note from Aubrey which said I should go back to my hotel and wait there until I heard from him. Then it happened. Look, Joan, if I'm going to help you on this, you've got to tell a whole coherent story. Well, suddenly there were some shots, maybe from outside. And people were yelling. It was terrible. I was scared to death. And I ran outside. People were crowded around someone. It was Aubrey. He was dead. I went to my hotel, the Beverly Crest. I started from my bungalow, but didn't go inside because there was a man hanging around. I'd seen him before someplace and I didn't like his looks and turned to when he called to me. He was awful, Mr. Marlowe. Awful looking like a frog, maybe? Sloping shoulders, bulging eyes? Yes. And when... Mr. Marlowe, how do you know what he looked like? Promise not to tell. Oh, Mr. Marlowe, he's here, isn't he? Mm-hmm. Been watching this for quite a while. Holy smokes, then I didn't get away from him. Oh, Mr. Marlowe, I had nothing to do with his shooting. What can I do? I simply can't be mixed up in this terrible business. Oh, please, Mr. Marlowe, I'll pay you anything. Only get me out of this, please. We'll talk about that later, Johnny. Now, look, when we get up, keep talking and don't look away from me. Then when we're outside and around the taxi stand there, duck away from me fast and get in close to the building and stay there till the frogman is gone. And head for your hotel bungalow and wait there till you hear from me. Now, you got that? Oh, yes, but I don't understand why he's going to leave us. You will. If our little crew works. Come on. It played easier than I'd expected because, like a good shadow, the frogman gave us a small head start, which was all I needed. The second Joan darted away from me. I moved quickly up to the first cabin line, opened and slammed the rear door fast, said goodbye out loud to Joan, who was not in the back seat, then slipped the driver five, winked hard, and practically shouted a very far away address at him. When he lurched in the curb, I stood there and waved a minute. It was still supposed to be Joan. Then, even as I saw the frogman dart across the street, piled into his own car and take off after the cab. I walked slowly back into the bar where I had another scotch drink and did some fast-checking on the current location of Aubrey Nichols, which was the Dawson Memorial Hospital. Then I started outside for my car after stopping en route at the booth where Joan and I had been sitting to pick up a pair of gloves and glamor portrait. My new little client had left on the seat. The school mom had been upset indeed. Hello, Dr. Chambers. Yes, one moment, please. Go ahead. Yes, sir. Oh, I want to know the condition of a patient who was brought in here a little while ago, Mr. Aubrey Nichols. Oh, I'm sorry, sir. We're not allowed to give out such information. You'll have to inquire at the superintendent's office. I wouldn't bother, Phil. Well, Detective Lieutenant Matthews, good evening. Good evening. Nichols' dead model. We did not get a statement from him. That's too bad. Any idea who did it? No. Have you? I didn't even know him. A client of mine. Yeah, Mr. Smith. That's right. That's remarkable. Mr. Smith, he asked me to inquire about his condition. Uh-huh. Well, it happened about an hour ago in an alley behind Cyrano's. Aubrey Nichols was a photographer up on the strip, but pretty much of a phony. A big front boy, strictly. That's all there was to it, huh? Walk down here with me a little. Oh, sure. Sure. We figure there may be some connection between this shooting and Sy Nestor's death this afternoon. Nestor also had an office on the strip. What do you figure the tie in there is, Matthew? A man named Ham Lacey. You ever hear of him? Yeah, he was one of Nestor's number one boys in the racket, right? Yeah, something like that. Of course, officially, Ham Lacey is known as the vice president of Nestor Enterprises Incorporated, also production manager of that second-rate movie studio Nestor own. Well, anyway, Lacey, another man, an Aubrey Nichols, we're at Cyrano's tonight with a star that's named Irmgard Fury, and another gal we haven't been able to tag yet. Wait a minute, Lieutenant, when Nestor was killed, did it look like the usual mob tactics? No, no, Nestor was beat up by fists, not sapped, not cut up with brass knots. Uh-huh. His death was caused by a blow to the temple from a poker that was standing next to a phony fireplace in which he could have hit his head when he fell. Well, he's probably not Lacey and Associates, huh? Probably not. He's got an alibi. Yeah? Besides, we already got a fair line on who did it and why. We found a note in Nestor's pocket, signed D. Tobin, which threatened Nestor with a beating if he didn't stay away from the undersigned's wife at home at once. Nestor, you may have not happened to know, had this Irmgard Fury or something on the contract to him, saw lots of her. So, again, the two deaths more or less tied together. Yeah, you've already talked to, oh, by the way, her name is Irmgard Fury. No, no, no, I ain't talked to her. I figured I'd wait until I knew a little more. Also, I didn't figure Nicol would die without saying anything. Well, now it's your turn. We found this negative in the alley near Nicol's body. This is a night shot of the sunset strip and nothing more. Means anything to you? No, I should have. Look, I told you before, Lieutenant, I never even met Nicol. Yeah, and I listened, didn't I? I noticed. But now let's level a bit, huh, Phil? Who your client is and what he or she has to do with this is one thing as long as we're both on the same side. But playing dumb when it might count is quite another. Now, once more, Phil, huh? The picture. Still zero, Lieutenant. Honour-bride. Anything else? I'll give you a little time, Phil. Yeah, let's do. Arm God, Fury's address. 441 West Bedford Drive Beverly Hills. 441 West Bedford Drive. Now, play it close. Be sure to call when you think it's time. And if you're wondering about why all this helped for me, try this. What you know and won't tell plus what I know and will tell might do the trick. Say goodbye to me, Phil. Goodbye. Yes? Tomorrow, I must talk to you at once. About what? Your husband, I'm a friend of his and he asked me to get in touch with you. It's because of what happened this afternoon up on the Strip. Oh. Well, what's wrong is Dave here in town? Yeah, yeah, he is. And he's in trouble. You see the police are after him. All right, hold it, Mr. You've said enough. What are you, copper reporter? Oh, now, wait a minute, Miss Fury. I've already told you I'm a friend of Dave's. Whose name happens to be Douglas. Mr. Douglas Tobin. Uh-uh, not so fast, baby. The mistake was mine, but I still want to talk to you. So there were a lot of men. Now beat it before... Oh, God. Before I forget myself. Oh, no trouble, Hamilton darling. This gentleman was just leaving. He had the wrong address. He made a mistake. Didn't you, Mr. Marlowe? Yes, yes, a blunder. A thousand apologies and good night, Mrs. Tobin. What it was worth, it worked. At the mention of the name Tobin, Ham Lacey spun around like it was built on a pivot and his eyes that were narrow slits with all the cum hither look of a cobra has never left me. As I slowly walked away from him and passed the yellow convertible he'd just driven up in. License number 6969X, California. And on out to the street, all of which only meant that Lieutenant Matthews was probably right about there being some connection between Sinester's murder and the death of Aubrey Nicholl. When I opened the door of my car and started to climb in under the wheel, the voice in the night helped not at all. If you don't do as I say, I'll kill you. Okay, okay. Now get out. Take it easy. All right. Now close the door and turn around. You're back to me. Now look, if this is a stick of busty, it can save us both a lot of time. Shut up. I'm not a hold up man. Now move over there, close to those trees. Go on. I want to ask you a question. All right, that's far enough. Now, what have you got to do with Helen? What have you got to do with her? Tell me. Very little, Mr. Tobin. Tobin? You know who I am? And so do the police. Why don't you call it quits while you're still in one piece? No, no, no. Not quits. That's what you want. What all of you want. Me arrested and out of the way in jail and maybe out of the way for good. No, no. So that won't be Helen's mind and you're not going to harm her. Careful, Tobin, you're getting excited. Yes, excited, excited enough for this. In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlowe, but first, a thrill-a-minute high-tension suspense from the word go, dramatic excitement that builds and builds until it explodes in a smashing climax. That's Intersanctum, the great mystery show that's another of CBS's top-notch Monday Night programs. You'll find Intersanctum, one of the most entertaining spots in your Monday Night listening schedule. And remember, Lux Radio Theater is back for its 15th year of great dramatic presentations. Intersanctum and Lux Radio Theater every Monday night over most of these same CBS stations. Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe and tonight's story, The Rust and Hickory. When the whirling pinwheels of light slowed down to being street lamps again, Douglas Tobin had pounded shoe leather on enough sidewalk to be safely out of sight. But it took a full minute of rubbing the bruise where his pistol had glanced off my head before I finally remembered that it was a good time to call Joan. I came to Godfury's house first and saw the lights still on. The cream-colored convertibles still parked in front and all apparently quiet inside. So I limped as far as the phone booth on the corner. I warned my client that the trick we'd pulled on the frog wouldn't hold up forever. But instead I found out just how far this side of forever it had collapsed. Hello? Hey, what number is this? What are you doing there? Where's Joan Rustin? On him, Dibby. What are you talking about? That fast shuffle you tossed me, Dibby. You don't gag with the taxi. Shell game operator like me, that one was as tough to see through as a glass-bottom boat. All right, all right. You get your diploma in the morning. But listen, you, if anything happens to Miss Rustin, I'll break you. Skip it, skip it, skip it. Joan, come on, baby. Come on, snap out of it. Oh, just stay away from me. Hey. Get out of here. Hey, hold it. It's me, Joni Marlowe. Marlowe? Oh, Marlowe. Come on, honey, what happened? Are you hurt, Joan? That man, the one with the gruff voice. Yeah? He forced his way in here, Marlowe. I tried to stop him. I was going to scream, but I guess that's when he put the bite on me. That's slug, baby. Well, anyway, he hit me hard. And I've never been treated that way before in my whole life. You've never been buddies with murder before, either. Come on, honey, get up off the floor, huh? Easy now. Hey, he turned your place inside out, too, didn't he? What was he after, Joni? Oh, I don't know. He just told me to quit stalling and hand it over. I didn't know what he meant, so he shoved me. Then he pulled out all the books there and tore up the rug. He was looking for something small and flat like a... Wait a minute, wait a minute, sure. The cops found a negative near Elbury-Nickel tonight, but it was worthless. It must have been another one, an important one. And Lacey and Froggy, who no doubts is Helmbay, must think you've got it. Me? Well, that's impossible. All I had was my picture, and, well, I don't even have that now. No, but I do. Out in my car, and it gives me a great idea. Come on. Well, where, Marlowe? I don't get it. What's my photograph got to do with this? Maybe plenty. You see, when Elbury printed that picture of you, he faded out the background almost completely. You remember? That's a stunt in fashion photography to make a subject stand out. But in this case, Joan, I figure, was played strictly in reverse. How do you mean? That Elbury took you to Cyrano's tonight on business. Big business. And you were holding the merchandise for him all the way. Yeah, let's take a look. Oh, Marlowe, my pretty picture frame. Better this than your pretty head, later, sweetheart, believe me. Ah-ha, yeah, here it is. Look, see? A negative the size of a postage stamp. But I'll bet old flash bulbs that $10 bills this baby's really loaded. Ah, Marlowe, I bet that baby's loaded, too. What are you talking about? The gun and that man's hand there behind you. Oh, fine. Easy, Marlowe. I'm not looking for any more trouble. I just want to be sure that you'll help me first. You're a private detective. I searched you before, so I know. I'm in a jam. It's worse than I figured. The cops are after me. For murder. No kidding. I can understand it, Tilburn. All you got is a motive deep enough to swim in, and you've been dropping clues like Hansel and Gretel, dropped pebbles. All right, all right, but I didn't do it. Well, I beat up Sinester, sure, but he was going with Helen, my Helen. I hated everything and everybody in this phony town because they took her away from me. He even changed her name for her, Irmgard Fury. But I didn't kill Nester. I swear I didn't. You've got to help me, Marlowe. With that 38 in your fist, are you asking or telling? Oh, I'm asking, brother. Here, here, take it. I'm in a fix and I know it. Okay, hothead. I'm already in Dutch for hiding Matthew's key witness here. Think I'll look keeping his chief suspect under wraps, too. Yeah. Oh, maybe I'm a sucker, but I believe you. All right, where do you hang your hat? The country cottage is number seven. It's a kind of a motel court down on Melrose Street. Number seven. I'll go there and stay out of sight. And I mean, stay out of sight. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Marlowe. Say, I'm sorry I batted you down tonight. That makes a lot of difference to the lump on my head. Go on, Tobin, beat it. Okay, okay. I'll keep in touch with you. And where are we going, Marlowe? Call a friend of mine. We need a big enlargement of a small negative. Speaking. Hiya, Shermy. This is Phil Marlowe. No, time to see. Yeah, I know. Now, look, are you busy? I got a job that's right down your alley, Sherman. It's important. What is it, Marlowe? Well, it's a 35-millimeter negative. I want it blown up to about half as big as a house. Okay, bring it in. I can't. I've got to check a couple of other things at the same time. Shermy, can you meet me at the Aubrey Nickel Studio on the strip in about 10 minutes back door? Wait a minute. Back door? How come the back door fell? So we can kick it in without attracting too much attention. Shermy, I'll see you in 10 minutes. I piled Joan into the car, drove down the strip in once past Nickel Studio, which was enough. Joan posed for a picture in front of the place and directly across the street behind her, just as I knew it had to be. It was the neat plastic sign reading Sinester Enterprises on the diminutive where Nesta's body had been found. We turned double back through the alley and found Sherman bobbing up and down like a nervous golfer. Five minutes of not-so-subtle persuasion got us past the lock and inside Aubrey Studio where something else checked. The walls were practically papered with pictures of Irmgard Fury, taken from every conceivable angle, including some that were not. Things were beginning to make a lot of sense. Marlowe, is this all right? Coming in here, I mean, it's sort of uninvited gnaws. It's breaking and entering, lady. I don't know what you're doing for it. I sure hope you know what you're doing. Yeah, this must be the dark room. Yeah. Now, here's the negative, Sherman, do your stuff. What do you really expect to find on the film, Marlowe? A murderer, baby. It's got to go one of two ways, like was Tobin for jealousy or Ham Lacey for ambition. Aubrey Nickel caught one of the two in the background when he took your picture. And he was familiar enough with all parties concerned over there to think he could put the screws on somebody. 15 by 20, okay? Yeah, it's good. If there isn't a man in the background, I'll eat it. Better get the salt and pepper, pal, because it's nothing but a car, see? It can't be. Oh, brother, that's more than a car, Sherman. It's a yellow convertible that belongs to Ham Lacey. Look, you can even see the license, 6969-X. 6969-X? Now, how do you suppose... What's the matter, Marlowe? I just thought of something. I don't know if it's Tobin and Lacey as suspects, but with it, we have proof Lacey is implicated. That means Lacey thinks he has Tobin sitting in the perfect frame, right where he wants him. Now, look, you two get out of here. Go back to the paper. I've got to get Tobin fast and let him know. Look, baby, you're no doubt terrific in the third grade, but some things they don't even teach in college. You're going to pop any minute, so I'll take it from here, huh? Stick with me, honey. I'll call you. I made it from the strip down to Melrose and then east to the cluster of dusty lean tools with bath known as country cottages parked down the street and cut backs through the alley on foot. I got to the door of cottage number 7 with about 30 seconds to spare. No, no, no. Wait a minute, mister. You got me wrong. Oh, no, I haven't, pal. You can tell me you didn't knock off Sinester and I'll believe you. Nobody else will. I've got you right where I want you now. Wait a minute. Because of your note found in Nestor's pocket, you're the jilted boyfriend, the hick from back home who came to Hollywood with murder in your heart and knocked off the guy who stole your wife. And then you went after the cheap photographer who gave her a star. And after that, you knew you couldn't escape, so you blew your brains out. And by the time I leave here, that's the way it's going to look. Not tonight, Ham. Yeah, stand still, Lacey. Toss the gun over on the bed. Go on. It's better. So you figured Aubrey was lying about having a picture that pegged you as Sinester's killer, didn't you? You figured Aubrey saw something but had no proof, so you shot him. But you were wrong, Ham. He had all the proof we need. Come on, now, look out! Who's out there? Oh, Phil! Phil! John, are you all right? Excuse me, I hit her. She's the one who killed Sinester. I tried to tell you that. I followed you here to tell you, but instead I saw her with a gun pointed at you. I grabbed the first thing I saw, this broken rake handle, and I hit her with it. I hit her awfully hard, Phil. She... Oh, she isn't moving. You don't think she's... Dead? No. She's probably thinking over the big lesson you just taught her with that stick there. Oh, what's the matter? Hey, teach. You know what that rake handle's made of? It's hickory, isn't it? Yeah. What else could it possibly be but a hickory stick? All right, nobody can hear us now. What is it? Well, it's that Miss Rustin hears a school teacher, Matthews, and it's imperative that we keep her name out of this. Oh, well, we can arrange that. Oh, good. You know, Matthews, it's funny how one step leads to another. Ham Lacey never would have gone so far as to kill Sinester on his own. But when he learned that Erm got it done, it is so an opportunity to turn the whole situation to his advantage. He and the girl agreed to frame Tobin and then go along as a team. You know, of course, that that's just your theory. Justin, Matt, what do you mean? Sit down over there and be quiet for a change while Miss Rustin and I wind this up. Matthews, listen, Matt. Quiet, please. Pulling rank, huh? Phil. Now, Miss Rustin, in solving this case... Just a minute. She didn't solve the case. I... Miss Rustin, if you hadn't solved it, and right when you did, you'd be talking to this guy exclusively via Ouija board from now on. Let's face it. Oh, what a corny pitch. Now, tell me, Miss Rustin, how did you peg Erm got Fury? Well, when we got the picture of the yellow convertible, I remembered that I'd gone to the powder room at Syranose with Miss Fury to freshen our makeup. But she couldn't find her lipstick. She emptied her purse looking for it. She finally had to borrow mine, you know. Oh, how democratic. I said that. So now you own it? Now, tell me, Miss Rustin, how do you figure the lipstick figures? Oh, it wasn't the lipstick. I happened to notice among the things from a purse a key chain with car keys on it and an identification tag in the form of a little license plate. Oh, and the numbers were... 6969 X. That's right. And since Ham Lacey had an alibi, and those keys were in Miss Fury's bag, you figured it was her who'd been driving. It was she who'd been driving, yes. Isn't this revolting? Yeah, she. She wanted to kill Nasty because he wouldn't turn loose of her, so she could claw her way on up to the bit atop. And when she found him unconscious, it was easy. How literary. Well, that's that, I guess. Thank you very much, Miss Rustin. I hope you stay in our town as we... What? Oh, what's the matter? Tony, baby, don't cry. I just thought of the most dreadful thing. I've had a wonderful time. I went to Surinosa. I had a movie star on the head, and I helped solve a murder. But I'll never, ever be able to say one single word about it to anybody in Fernvale, Nebraska. Darn it all. It took a few minutes to put on a new touch of mascara and get the pink off her nose. But she was smiling again when we said good night to Matthews and stood on the steps at headquarters and looked at the glittering lights of Hollywood. There was still plenty of time for supper and even a dance or two when she wanted to go. But suddenly, from somewhere, it was the smell of autumn in the air, of dry leaves on the ground and ripe red apples for the teacher. She shook her head wistfully and spoke of an appointment she had bright and early next Monday morning. I took her to a hotel and said goodbye. All the way home for some reason, I kept wondering, what ever happened to Skinny McDonald? The only kid in school who could shoot a better spitball than Marlowe. Has it really been that long ago? The Adventures of Philip Marlowe star Gerald Moore and are transcribed and directed by Norman McDonald. Script is by Meldon L.A., Robert Mitchell and Gene Levitt. The special music is composed and conducted by Richard Arant. Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says... There was a tapestry found under a tomb. They were all after it. The worried importer, the man with half a face, the Englishman in an L.A. slum and the lady wearing a green veil. But before it was over, none of them had it and two of the four were dead. Now, stay tuned for gangbusters which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations. This is Roy Rowan speaking. This is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System.