They were born at the same hour on the same day of the same parents.
And they were identical in beauty and talent.
Only one was deadly, but the other was not.
And I couldn't tell which was which until I found a green purse,
a fresh corpse, and a pair of dancing hands.
From the pen of Raymond Chandler, outstanding author of crime fiction,
comes his most famous character as CBS presents...
The Adventures of Philip Marlowe.
Now, with Gerald Moore, starred as Philip Marlowe,
we bring you tonight's exciting story, The Dancing Hands.
The telegram I found stuck in the mail slot when I got back to my office
after a long and roundabout day written,
Enclosed, find a $50 money order.
I want you to investigate a man.
The table is reserved for you at the Saddle Club where I work.
Come in time for the second show at 11, important.
It was signed Beth Tyler.
So at a quarter to 11 with 50 bucks worth of inspiration behind me,
I drove over the Cuyenga Freeway and outventured to the Saddle Club,
which pretended to be Old English by showing its beams through a flagstone facade.
I went in the carefully rough-hewn oak door,
and even before my eyes became adjusted to the cozy lack of candle power inside,
Neil Redmond, owner and operator of the place, glided toward me,
sporting his genial host smile, which tonight was even more forced than usual.
How are you, Marlowe? It's been a long time.
Business a pleasure, bro.
It's always a pleasure to come to the Saddle Club, Neil.
I've even got a reservation.
You know my food better than that, Marlowe.
Uh-huh.
Just don't let it get rough, will you?
Come on, I'll find your table out front. I want you to see this show.
A pair of twins in a twin piano act that's sensational.
Yeah?
Edie and Beth Tyler.
Oh, here, how's this?
Fine.
Incidentally, Edie will be the one on the left.
What, they're twins? What's the difference?
Funny. Edie may be Mrs. Redmond one of these days.
What do you mean, Edie? But you are wanted on the phone, sir.
Get the number, George, and I'll call back.
This gentleman said you would talk to him, sir.
It is Mr. Paul Sider.
Paul Sider?
Oh, yeah, yeah. Excuse me, Marlowe, this is important.
Redmond reacted to the name Sider like a punch in the nose.
But I figured that was none of my business, which was more than I could say for a...
flabby, dull-faced character at the next table...
who followed the nightclub owner all the way out of the room with a pair of watery red eyes...
which he deliberately avoided turning in my direction.
But at that point, an emcee stepped out on the stage and so...
I stopped worrying about flabby in favor of a first look at my client.
The Saddle Club is now to present its second show of evening...
featuring the incomparable piano stylist, Edie and Beth in Dancing Hands.
Here they are, ladies and gentlemen. Bring them up.
The curtains parted on a stage set with an oversized full-length mirror...
which reflected a grand piano, a black vase of yellow flowers...
and a tall brunette with a rye crisp waistline...
who touched up a piled-high hairdo, put on a pair of long black gloves...
checked her hemline and sat down at the piano.
And she ran through and involved arpeggio while her reflection in the mirror looked on in admiration.
It was an old but cute routine.
And the illusion was perfect because the Tyler twins were practically identical.
I took another look at flabby whose face was pushed up in a nasty leer.
He stood up, dropped his cigarette into his drink and tossed a crumpled bill down on the table...
just as the lights went out for the trick part of the act.
On the dark stage, two pairs of purple hands danced over two glowing silver keyboards.
It would have been good except that the pair of hands on the right, which belonged to Beth...
suddenly stopped in midair and hit blue notes like a nine-year-old at her first recital.
When the lights came up again, my client's face was as white as Middle-C...
and the flabby character oozing a victorious smile was on his way to the door.
Well, they wrapped it up fast after that.
And Beth ran into the wings, leaving Edie to take the bow along.
The band took over in a hurry and brought things down to normal.
So, as couples moved down to the dance floor and George the waiter headed for my table...
I sat back and waited for that message from my client.
Here you are, sir. Compliments of the house.
Oh, thanks. Any message with this?
No, sir. Just that Mr. Redman had to leave.
Oh, thanks, George.
I sit for double scotch and wondered if I should take the initiative and contact my client...
when the message I'd been waiting for came good and loud.
I jumped up, shoved my way through the gaping dancers...
to the dressing room hallway behind the stage.
A gang of club personnel was bunched in front of a door obviously locked...
labeled Edie and Beth Tyler.
Hey, what's the matter?
It's one of the twins. She screamed. We gotta get in. That door's locked.
Well, break it down. Get out of the way.
It's Edie. It's Edie.
All right, now, wait a minute. Hold it. She's all right.
Clear out and give her a chance. Come on.
Outside, everybody. Beat it. That means you too. Come on. Out.
Here, Miss Tyler. Take it easy. You're all right now.
Come on. Sit down. Tell me what happened.
I don't know for sure.
I was worried about Beth.
I came back and didn't see her anywhere.
Then I heard a noise in here.
It was dark. I came in and...
and someone grabbed me.
A man?
Yes.
I don't know who it was.
I screamed. He knocked me down.
Then locked the door. Got out through the window there.
Who are you?
I'm Philip Marlow, a private detective.
His sister hired me to investigate a guy.
I was to meet her here after your number and find out about it.
Any idea what's happened?
No. I can't imagine.
But gee, Beth has been terribly upset ever since last night.
Oh? What happened last night?
Well, for one thing, my purse was stolen.
But I don't see why that should upset her.
Gee, there was nothing in it but $12 and my makeup stuff.
Where's Beth now? Do you know?
No. I haven't seen her since she ran off the stage.
I'm not even sure she came in here.
No, she was here all right. She dropped one of her gloves.
They're still wearing both of yours.
Where do you girls live? Maybe she went home.
Beth has a copy done on hazel teen.
$41.79.
They don't live together? How come?
Well, gee, Mr. Marlow, just working with Beth is hard enough.
She's so sarcastic.
Okay, I'll wear my thick skin.
One more thing, Miss Tyler. Do you happen to know where Neil went?
Neil's gone?
Gee, that's funny.
He always stays till the place closes.
Oh, he must be coming right back.
I'll take a look.
Then I'm going out to see your sister. Sarcasm and all.
I spent ten minutes questioning their help on the whereabouts of the boss
and got nothing but double talk for answers.
Since I was still carrying Beth's glove around with me,
I dropped it in my pocket and went outside to my car.
I had opened the door and slid fine up under the wheels
so I couldn't back out before I realized that the dull-faced flab
was already there on the seat.
His right hand wrapped around something blunt and menacing
in his sloppy jacket pocket.
You better come on in.
What are you doing in my car, blubberboy?
Don't get sassy now, mister, and the name is Sippy.
That's no improvement and that's no answer.
All right. I saw you inside making with the big talk,
so I says to myself, he's an interested party.
I should look him up. Maybe we can do business together.
All right. Stay over there.
What kind of business?
I'm particular about the gutters I crawl in.
It has to do with the twins inside there.
You can get in touch with me later for further details.
I got an angle, mister. You'll see when I leave.
Yeah? When you try to work that angle,
you got to the wrong twin in the dressing room.
Do you know that?
I don't know what you're talking about.
No case, Sippy. Where can I reach you?
You'll find out if you really know what's up.
Don't try to follow me, though. I'll be seeing you.
When Sippy slid out of the car and beat it,
I made one move after him and then stopped cold
because lying on the seat where he'd been sitting
was a green leather handbag with the name E.D. etched on it.
I snapped it open.
It had been stripped of everything but the scent of amia
and the smudge slip of paper that read
Number 9 Arrow Motel, Lancashire Boulevard.
So that was Sippy's address, and he had the stolen purse.
But the why of all the commotion over 12 missing bucks
was still the number one question mark.
And I figured the best place for an answer to it
was at Beth Tyler's.
So I drove out the hazel team.
But even before I stopped at number 4179,
I heard the piano.
I walked to the door and stood there,
and all was listening.
I eased it open, slipped inside.
Soft, indirect lighting accented the figure of a girl on the piano.
The little waves of iridescent crimson chased themselves
over the smooth satin gown she played.
Glossy, blue-black hair fell to her shoulders.
Beside her, a burning cigarette set a single plume of smoke
into the still air.
Just for a moment, I found it difficult to remember
that she was my client.
Ahem.
Oh?
You're... you're looking better, Beth.
You're Philip Marlowe, I suppose?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I dropped by to return your glove, among other things.
Just put it there on the table, with the other one.
Where did you get it, Marlowe?
Near dressing room at the club.
Your sister tangled with an identified man
who was hiding there after you left.
While we were on that, why'd you shove off so fast?
I was scared.
How'd you know I'd find you?
You're a detective, remember?
Mm-hmm.
Look, if you want to burn up your retainer playing hide-and-seek
at your business, now who's the guy you want me to check on,
the flabby one who made you blow up tonight?
Yeah, yeah, that's right.
Why?
Because I think my sweet twin sister is mixed up in something
a little more serious than her usual scatterbrain escapades.
Mm.
And the flabby guy is in on it because he has a green purse, right?
How did you know that?
He left it with me.
Name is Sippy.
He lives at the Arrow Motel, number nine.
Knows something worthwhile about this business,
and he's anxious to sell it.
All of which puts him a hop, skip, and a jump ahead of your detective.
Now, tell me, why is everybody, including Neil Redmond,
all wound up over one stolen purse?
What's it all about, baby?
I don't know, baby.
Suppose you find out and tell me.
It would never have anything to do with the fact that Neil loves his sister
and you love Neil, would it?
Marlow, I hired you to investigate a man,
not to pry into my personal affairs.
You'll get more for your money if I stop holding out on me.
It's my money.
Besides, I'm not holding out.
Believe me.
I'll try real hard.
As soon as I've got something, I'll call you.
Where are you going now?
My retainer entitles me to know, doesn't it?
Yeah, yeah, it does.
First to the club to find Redmond and get his side of it,
and then I'll probably drop in on our chum,
Sippy at the Aero Motel on Lancashire.
Good.
I'll keep a light in the window for you.
Oh, sweet.
Also keep your door locked from the inside, baby.
As I drove down the dark, winding street toward Ventura Boulevard,
I caught a flash in the rear-view mirror of a station wagon behind me.
It looked like a tail, so I opened up, but it stayed with me.
When it swung out into the left lane to pass,
it suddenly cut in front of me.
I jammed on the brakes and the spotlights slashed at my eyes,
and when my front wheel banged against the curb,
I was already half out of the car.
Stop right where you are, fella.
Don't come one inch closer, or I'll drop you.
I switched off the spotlight, and I saw a face the texture of a doormat
over an embroidered purple shirt and orange tie.
He had hand-tooled high-heeled boots on
and was topped off by a ten-quart cream-colored Stetson.
But the doormat face was grim,
and the silver-barreled cold pistol in his hand looked right at home.
I followed you up here from the Saddle Club.
I don't know what your game is or why you're missing around
and what don't concern you,
but I aim to find out mighty quick so start talking.
Okay, first I resent being crowded around the place,
second I resent a spotlight in my face,
and third I don't like pistols pointed at my stomach.
So cool off, Jesse James. You're wasting your time and mine.
You got it wrong there, friend.
Paul Cedar don't waste his time, and you're gonna find that out.
Paul Cedar? Yeah.
Don't tell me you're all excited over a stolen purse with 12 bucks in it.
12 dollars? Yeah.
Listen, clown, there's 30 grand missing somewhere between Redman and me,
and I'm gonna get it.
30,000? Yeah.
Redman's a high roller, and that's okay with me,
but he lost at Fan Square in my joint over in Nevada,
and I've been holding his markers much too long.
So if I have to chalk that dough off to experience,
it's gonna be a pretty unpleasant experience for a certain party.
Get me? Yeah, I get you.
But you're shoving the wrong way, Longhorn.
Somebody's trying to make a fool out of me, bright boy.
When I don't stand for that, I'm liable to shove a lot of ways.
And hard. So don't get underfoot.
You're sure to get stepped on.
So long, dude.
So long, dude.
In just a moment, we'll return to the second act of the adventures of Philip Marlowe.
But first, tomorrow marks the anniversary of an important event in American history,
the signing of the first peace treaty between the Indians and the Plymouth colonists.
In commemoration of these events,
CBS's Sunday night stars Amos and Andy will be found with a kingfish
bearing the hatchet deeper than ever in their hopes and dreams.
And CBS's own Jack Benny will be back again tomorrow with his special guest, Van Johnson.
Invite some friends over.
Sit back and enjoy the Jack Benny program.
You can hear Amos and Andy every Sunday on most of these same CBS network stations,
and Jack Benny over them all.
Now, with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe,
and tonight's story, the Dancing Hands.
When the Texan from Nevada galloped off in his trusty station wagon,
I forgot about our old Bob Neal Redmond and headed instead for Sippy in his further details
at the Aero Motel on Lancashire,
where bungalow nine turned out to be an all-alone green and white collection of clabboard
that showed light, a half-open door, and nobody home to my knock.
When I tried knuckles on wood again and still got only a faint echo for a fly,
I stepped inside.
There in the center of an ivory-white throw rug and clamoring for attention
like an only child at a family reunion was a wide and wet circle of red.
From there, the ugly splotches that narrated as they got farther away
trailed off until, finally in the next room, the path ended where I expected it to.
The quiet form of Sippy, sprawled over an upset chair
and holding his hands tight against the red on his left side.
When I got to him, he was going fast.
Thirty grand, a lot of dough.
Didn't know I was shooting that high.
And the twins...
One...
One what, Sippy?
One of them...
Did one of them do this?
One...
He's dead, isn't he, Marlow?
Yeah.
Yeah, Redmond, he's very dead.
Marlow, Marlow, I only found him a few seconds before you did.
Yeah, and the rest of that runge, I heard someone coming you didn't want to be seen,
so you ducked back out of sight, huh?
I don't buy it, Redmond, because for one thing it's too pat.
For another, how do you explain being here in the first place? Come on, fast.
Okay, I'm here because I'm in a nasty jam.
Like what?
Like $30,000 I've got to pay in the next hour
to a guy named Paul Cedar who is running out of patience in a hurry, believe me.
About that I do. I've already met the gentleman.
Right now, Redmond, we're talking about Sippy.
Okay. Last night I had things to do,
so I gave Edie Tyler the money for the payoff to Cedar.
A couple of minutes after she stepped out of the club,
somebody roughed her up and got away with a purse and the 30 grand.
You're a liar, Redmond. Edie yourself told me that purse only had 12 bucks in it.
How come?
Simple like Marlow.
In my business, you never yell copper too soon or too loud. It doesn't pay.
Now, look, for the third time, Redmond, you and Sippy, how do you figure?
I don't know. He was at the club tonight acting funny.
When he left, I got a glimpse of Edie's green purse
sticking out of his top coat pocket.
Later on, I saw him run away from the car near the club, so I followed.
I ended up here a couple of minutes behind him,
and that Marlow was a truth, I swear.
What you do with the drop of a...
Now, wait a minute.
Look, if you're telling the truth, I begin to get a different picture.
And by that, I specifically mean a very talented,
very sly dame named Beth Tyler.
Oh, no, Bob.
Why not? Because you love Beth's sister?
They said, Redmond, it doesn't add up any other way.
Sippy here couldn't have stolen that purse from Edie.
If he did, he'd have taken his dough and blown, not spent his time putting out feelers.
But on the other hand, if Sippy happened to see Beth take it from Edie,
empty it and toss it away, we've got another story, right?
Yeah.
Of course, he wouldn't make a move until he knew how much he had gotten away with.
Exactly.
But there, he ran into trouble because he was trying to get close to Beth,
and in doing that, he got mixed up and went for Edie instead, like tonight at the club.
Sure.
And that dying man's words just now about one twin.
To which you can add the unpleasant fact that I personally ran off at the mouth
when I was up at Beth's an hour ago.
So she knew where to come for Sippy.
Look, Redmond, it's got to run that way. I'm sure of it.
Well, maybe you're right, Phil, but right or wrong, I'm still in the jam.
So if you don't have any objections, I'm going back to my club now
for a last try at raising that money again before Cedar shows.
You mean you're going to face him, Neil, with or without it?
I've got a model. You see, I own a fast club, all right, and I gamble a lot, too.
But I don't welch on my markers, no more than I knock over flappy little guys.
You know what I mean, Phil?
I think so.
But don't fold now, Neil, because I might still be lucky enough to catch up to Beth Tyler
and your money both before your time runs out.
And right now that means fast to a phone and a call to Edie,
who might know which way a runaway twin would head.
I'll see you, Neil.
The nearest phone was at an all-night mobile gas station a block away.
As I dialed Edie's number, a thought hit me.
Maybe Beth wouldn't head anywhere.
Maybe she'd just stick around.
Hello?
Edie, this is Marlow.
Seen anything of Beth?
No, I haven't. But why? What is it, Marlow?
Well, from where I stand, two things.
First, your sister has the $30,000 and $12 that was in your purse last night.
And second, she's just about it for a sloppy around-the-edges murder.
Now, look, have you any idea where Beth would head if she had to get out of town in a hurry?
No, I don't, Marlow.
Oh, well, maybe somebody up around her place does. I'll call you later.
Marlow, wait. Are... are you sold on this?
I mean about the things you said Beth did?
Just about, Edie. But for your sake, let's hope I'm wrong. All the way, honey.
Goodbye.
Driving fast back toward Beth's place on Hazeltyne
still left me enough time to think about a not-too-small detail that I'd completely overlook.
Thanks to me, the entire Los Angeles Police Department knew nothing about what was going on in and around the Saddle Club.
Five minutes later, when I'd parked away from the dock and obviously deserted number 4179,
I'd walked back and around to a pair of uncurtained French doors at the side.
I knew that oversight is what is generally called a blunder.
But the next second, I knew it was nothing compared to the one I was making currently.
If you so much as turn your head again, Marlow, I'll kill you.
Not like you did Sippy, please, Beth. I'd hate to go that way.
Sippy was a mistake, Marlow, believe me. I was rushed.
So you shot and ran, huh?
Yes. But I didn't run too far.
Because from where I stood, I could hear and see both you and Redmond and talking the whole thing over.
And when you knew that we'd caught on to your act, you decided to follow me and see where I was going before you made your next move. Is that it?
Exactly. Now get inside. Go on, the door's unlocked.
All right. Now get over there near that closet and don't turn around.
Why not? Afraid of the look on my face when you shoot?
Shut up, Marlow. And stop being brave. Because unless I have to, I'm not going to kill you.
After all, you've already served your purpose.
Which I presume was getting mixed up in this mess just long enough to find out about Sippy for you.
You presume correctly. Also, you talk too much.
Now open that closet and get inside.
All right.
Go on.
As you say. But first, baby, one question.
Did you do all this for the 30 grand alone? Or does it tie in with Neil Redmond and the way he feels about your sister, Reedy?
It's a little bit of each, Marlow. But as I said, you talk too much. So get in there and shut up.
Getting out of Beth Taylor's half-inch thick old closet was like arguing with an umpire.
It couldn't be subtle. So 20 tiring minutes went by and the heels on both my feet were numb before the paneling finally gave in.
And I was out and over to the telephone to put in a call to the police.
It should have been made a long time ago.
But then, even as I was halfway through dialing the numbers, I saw something on an end table nearby that made me slowly change my mind.
It was the two black gloves that Beth wore in the Dancing Hands Act.
And while I stared at them like they were alive and beckoning, I thought hard for what must have been a full minute.
And then suddenly I knew that my next stop had to be the Saddle Club.
As I parked at the Saddle Club, I saw light drifting out of Neil's office, which was something I had expected.
Inside, I moved along a dark hall toward what I knew would be the trail of Neil Redmond, the Nevada Texan, and Eddie Tyler.
A raucous voice of Paul Cedar was anything but happy.
How stupid you think I am?
Cedar, I'm telling the truth.
Eddie had the 30 grand, but somebody got it from him when she was on her way to you.
That's a stinking line. You know it, Redmond. You never had the money.
This whole thing's been a frame to stall me. And one way or another, I'm going to get you to admit that.
No, you're not, Cedar. If you don't drop that gun now, you're never going to do anything ever.
Come on, let it go.
All right. Now sit down and shut up and listen hard because Redmond's telling you the truth.
What?
Marlow, you know where the money is.
That's right. I also know who took it.
Less than an hour ago, a little after I called you, Eddie Beth caught up to me and confessed the whole shebang exactly as we figured it, Neil.
You mean she admitted getting the money from Eddie and using you to locate Sippy.
That's right. But there's only one drawback to everything she admitted. None of it's true.
What do you mean, Marlow?
I mean, Cedar, that Beth Tyler didn't steal your money from Eddie here any more than she killed Sippy.
I also mean that as far as I can tell, Beth Tyler was nothing more than a girl who played the piano
and got upset when a stranger named Sippy started to bother her.
And I never saw the real Beth Tyler after she ran away from a piano in the club tonight.
That she's dead and that you, Eddie, have been posing as Beth all night because, one, you yourself stole Neil's money and two, you murdered your sister as well.
No!
Yes, Eddie, come on, admit it is true.
No, no, it isn't. I...
I guess it isn't that, Marlow.
And Beth's body?
In our dressing room.
In the closet.
I didn't want to kill her.
But she found out that I had only pretended to be robbed when there was no one around.
That Sippy had seen me scream and get rid of the purse myself.
Sippy, who was only trying to muscle in on a deal, went to her by mistake, huh?
Yes. That's how she knew what I'd done.
When she confronted me in the dressing room just before you came in
and said that she wouldn't stand by and let me do a thing like that to Neil.
I lost my temper and...
You killed her, Eddie?
Yes. I did, Neil.
And when Marlow showed up after her scream, I said that someone had attacked me.
And then I pretended to be both Beth and myself from there on to get out of the whole thing.
And I... I almost did.
But... but now I'm so sorry.
Oh, no.
A couple of bad hours went by before the police had everybody's story
and Paul Cedar in the 30,000 was gone for Nevada and Eddie was gone for good.
That left just Neil Redmond and me alone and standing near the main bar in the club.
Neil was doing his best to stay all in one piece.
Well, Marlow's been a tough night for you, hasn't it?
Yeah, but a tough one for you, Neil.
What with Cedar and the money and the girls, Marlow?
Yeah.
At least it came out right before the cowboy got too tough thanks to you.
So tell me, Phil, how'd you know that Beth was dead and that Eddie was both people all along?
It was a couple of gloves, Neil, the ones they wore in their dancing handsack.
You see, when I first met Eddie in the dressing room, she was wearing hers and one of Beth's was on the floor.
Hey, pour me one, will you?
Yes, sir.
Okay. I took it and later when I met what I thought was Beth,
I returned it and she put it with what we both thought was its name.
There, yeah.
Thanks. But a little while ago when I got close to the gloves again,
I saw that that couldn't be, that they were both for the left-hand, Neil.
Ah. Then when Eddie went to Beth's place to pass herself off as her sister, who she had already killed,
she was smart enough to know that she should have only one glove around.
Yeah, but not smart enough to think about which glove it should be.
And there I worked backwards.
Until you got to the three of us at the club and tried what you knew might be the right answer.
Mm-hmm.
Well, you were right, Phil, all the way.
Yeah, but I was still gambling.
If I had been wrong, Neil, I was giving the real Beth a long head start.
Ah. It's always that way when you gamble, Phil. I know.
Sometimes you pick right, sometimes wrong.
Cards, dice. Even with twins.
You're not, Phil.
When I finally got to my car, started out of the valley and back toward Hollywood,
it was better than eight o'clock in the morning.
And here and there as I drove, I...
I saw people who I'd never heard of and who, well, who'd never heard of me
stumbling outside after their morning papers.
And I got to wondering what they were going to think when they read about a girl
who had killed both a twin sister in a nightclub and a flabby guy in a motel.
It wasn't much good.
Well, it was hard to say.
And for myself, I was too tired to think.
Or maybe I just didn't want to.
The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, created by Raymond Chandler, star Gerald Moore,
and are produced and directed by Norman MacDonald.
Script is by Mel Dinelli, Robert Mitchell, and Gene Leavitt.
Featured in the cast were Vivi Janis, Lou Krugman, Ed Begley, Paul Frese, and Bert Holland.
The special music is by Richard O'Rant.
Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says...
When it started, it was simple, just a lawsuit for damages.
But before it was over, it was far from simple, and the damages were murder,
all because of a redheaded woman, a ghostwriter with ambition and a match
that burned with a bright green flame.
With part of its star-studded Sunday nights devoted to shows named after great personalities
such as Jack Venney, Lumb and Abner, and Amos and Andy,
CBS also goes to famous fiction for one of the brightest, most dramatic of its Sunday galaxy,
the adventures of Sam Spade.
Created by the master hand of Dashiell Hammett,
Sam Spade cuts a new and deadly caper with mystery, murder, and adventure
on most of these same CBS network stations every Sunday.
Join him tomorrow night.
This is Roy Rowan speaking.
Now, stay tuned for Gangbusters, which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.