Get this and get it straight.
Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gutter of the prison of
the grave.
This time I tangled with a mad Scotchman, a phony English lord and a beautiful blonde
corpse in a freight house all because of a butler who walked on his knuckles.
It happened like this.
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 exciting story, the
Monkey's Uncle.
Hello.
This is Marlowe.
Oh thank heavens you're still in your office at this late hour Mr. Marlowe.
I must have your help at once.
Why?
I'm a danger man and time means everything.
Now sir if you'll come directly.
Wait a minute, wait a minute.
Who are you?
Who's Cornelius?
Where are you calling from and about what?
Let's have it a slow step at a time, huh?
My name's Wesley Macduff Mr. Marlowe.
Alright, lead on Macduff.
I'm calling from a telephone booth opposite the Beekman Plaza Hotel in Hollywood Boulevard
where Ashley Duke.
Ashley who?
Going for the Beekman Plaza.
Lord Ashley Duke himself across the street.
I've got to get to him.
Mr. Marlowe, hurry.
Meet me in the hotel lobby.
Yes, what?
Quick man, we've got to stop them there.
Go to kill Cornelius.
My first reaction was to forget the whole thing.
Curiosity is strong stuff with me.
Any triumvirate labeled Wesley Macduff, Lord Ashley Duke and Cornelius had to add up the
screwball no matter where you started.
The word kill was still big in my vocabulary so I buttoned the office up quickly, got down
in my car and drove over to the Beekman Plaza Hotel where a ten minute stand in the lobby
produced nothing closer to worried Scotchman than the plaid covering in a sagging Morris
chair and at the reception desk there was no Wesley Macduff registered or ever heard
of.
I'm sorry sir.
So at that I was ready to call it quits.
I turned for the door but before I got there I was stopped.
The uniform said bellhop and the sprinkle of freckles plus bond cowlicks said all American
boy but the shifty eyes and the narrow mouth that slid over to the side of his face when
he talked said something else like racetrack tough.
Hey, pardon me sir but I happened to overhear you ask after a Scotchman.
Wesley Macduff was it?
Yeah, you know where he is?
Well, yes and...
Yes and how much?
Ten?
Five.
Okay, sport five.
But let's get out of the traffic.
Over here on this map like I was pointing out something to you.
That's a fresh idea.
Thanks.
The Viva?
Oh, here.
Now, where's Macduff?
On his way to Burbank, dead drunk.
You're crazy, I talked to him less than half an hour ago.
He was tone sober and a long way from the party mood.
Hmm, could be but 15 minutes ago I helped Lord Ashley Duke pile him into a cab.
Wait a minute, wait a minute, Ashley Duke, how does he fit?
He found this Macduff in the alley outside.
I was just coming back from dinner when I saw him pick the guy up.
He couldn't say a word.
But a blue shield medical card we found in his wallet read Wesley Macduff 13 Vineland
Avenue, Burbank.
Boy, he was out colder than my old man.
Yeah, yeah, now listen, Junior, here's another five.
Fill me in fast.
Who's Lord Ashley Duke?
A nightclub character, entertainer.
Lives here with his wife, Lady Ashley Duke, when they're in LA.
Well, is he legitimate to slot business?
Nah, but he plays it to the hilt.
Why after we piled that Macduff into the cab, he dusted his white gloves off, genteel-like,
slipped the monocle he wears into his eye and grabbed another cab and shoved.
He's a phony.
His real name is Bert Dukes and my lady is Gert and on her it shows.
What do you mean shows?
That the second she gets behind her door, they got suite 312, she climbs out of her
accent like it was a tight girdle, especially when she and that niece of hers go at it.
Yes, sir, the famous Merrimack Caverns are on Route 66 near St. Louis.
Oh, good evening, Mr. Fisher.
Good evening, Tom.
Okay, where were we?
The niece, the niece.
Oh yeah, quite a doll.
Her name's Murrell Brimmer.
Axe is her business manager, so she must also have brains.
Tell me, who's Cornelius?
Cornelius?
Yeah.
What's breaking you up?
Who is he?
Nobody but the star of the act.
The Lord and Lady do a farce thing, a takeoff on English drawing room stuff and Cornelius
plays the butler.
Plays it in a Derby in a Boiled Shirt, no less.
Why the giggles?
You've seen a Derby in a Boiled Shirt before?
Yeah, yeah, sure I have.
But on Cornelius it looks different.
You see, mister, he's a chimpanzee.
If they're Cornelius, definitely added screwball.
But I also knew that prospective client Macduff had been sapped and piled into a cab for good
maintenance, which could add to less than funny.
So I decided to look around a little longer, especially in the vicinity of my lady's chamber,
number 312.
When I stepped out of the elevator on the third floor, an owl-faced waiter was just
piloting a dinner cart loaded down with dirty dishes out of the room.
And when the cart juggled out of the corridor rug, it nearly upset a coffee pot, which left
the waiter's mind on the juxtaposition of cot and pot and not the door.
Yet he left open inches.
I waited till he passed me.
Then I moved up to where I could both see and hear Lady Ashley Duke and her niece Merle
exploding at each other through an after-dinner conversation.
The former was built like an upended blimp with as much charm as a mooring mast.
The latter was blonde and female, spy beautiful.
And also she was nonchalantly slipping a shiny 32 automatic from desk drawer to purse.
Oh, now wait a minute, Kurt.
Before you snap a stay, you listen to me.
Why, so you can explain once more how poor Uncle Bird's idiotic mistakes are just bad
luck.
Ten thousand bucks worth of bad luck.
Nuts.
Bird don't know anything about investments.
He shouldn't be allowed to touch a red cent.
And my pretty, from here on out, that's exactly the way it's gonna be.
Believe me.
Oh, cut it, Gert and quit blaming Uncle Bird and me.
Are you kidding?
Why shouldn't I blame the two of you?
He's a jerk and you...
I never wanted you with us in the first place, my niece.
Ha!
Oh, shut up.
And remember, dear Aunt, your husband likes me around.
I'm good for his morale, he says, he'll never let you fire me.
So don't waste your breath, Auntie.
Get out of here.
Go on, get down to the freight house and keep your eyes open.
We don't want to lose Cornelius.
Don't worry, darling.
Guard duty's an old specialty of mine.
Yes, who is it?
Name's Marlow.
I'd like to see Lord Ashley Duke.
Oh, well I...
Oh, wow.
Ah, yes.
He's not in, but what did you want to see him about?
Oh, business.
Can you help me?
Perhaps.
You see, I'm his business...
Oh, she used to be his business manager.
She was just leaving, weren't you, Merle, darling?
Yes, Merle, darling, was.
Mr. Marlow, Lady Ashley Duke.
Goodbye, Auntie.
Unhappy, huh?
Oh, rather.
Now, sir, to save each other's time, let me be blunt.
Lord Ashley Duke is no longer interested in making any investments whatsoever, nor will
he be interested at a future date.
Is that clear, sir?
Yes, like well, Water, Lady Ashley Duke, and if I were looking for an investor, I'd keep
it in mind.
But you see, I'm a private detective working for Wesley McDuff.
A paper?
A lousy paper pushing his way in here while you're...
Take it easy, easy, Gertie.
Let go.
Get your filthy hands off me.
Sure.
Just as soon as you get back in a neutral.
I also want to save us time, and I want to save Cornelius, too.
How do we talk or wrestle, witch?
Oh, all right.
Seven weeks ago, Lord Ashley Duke and I bought Cornelius from that crazy monkey racer out
in Burbank.
We paid McDuff $30,000 for a run-down 17-year-old chimpanzee.
Well, then why do you want to kill him?
McDuff thinks you're going to.
Yeah, McDuff's crazy.
Just because we change our minds and instead of staying here in L.A., decide to go on the
road, McDuff thinks Cornelius will catch cold and die.
So he wants him back.
Yeah, but you'll get your money back.
Yeah.
But what about the seven weeks of work just to teach him to drop a glass?
Not only that, he's a wonderful imitator.
I can see your point.
Besides a deal's a deal.
We're taking the risk of Cornelius' death, not the loon who runs that Burbank animal farm.
Boy, that scotchman thinks every animal in the joint's related to him.
It's an old idea, honey.
But look, Lady Ashley-
At what?
We've had our talk, people.
Now get out.
Go on.
Go on.
Get out before I forget I'm a lady.
Over here, Tompkins.
What is it?
A telephone call, sir.
Boot four this way, please.
Make out all right up there?
Jim Dandy.
Good.
Now, if you feel I was underpaid-
I feel we came out even, Buster.
Besides, I'm running low on farthings, unless-
Yes?
You know where the freight house Cornelius Call's home is located.
Uh-uh.
Blank.
Okay.
So long, Tompkins.
Hello?
Mr. Marlowe?
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah, you all right, Macduff?
It takes more than a foul blow in the dark to stop me, man.
And it's just what Lord Ashley Duke is going to discover there in many minutes.
What do you mean?
That I've run out of patience.
I ain't gonna act, not talk.
I'm about to take Cornelius back with my own hands, and I want you to help me.
Oh, now wait a minute.
Now, look, man.
I'm in a drug store at Pershing Square, close by the freight house where Cornelius is caged
for shipment.
I want you to lead me-
But you can't steal him, Macduff.
Ah, aye, I can.
Steal him and disguise the animal so they'll never be able to claim him again.
So they won't be able to kill him.
But, Macduff, I can't go along with that.
Then I chose the wrong man.
There's precious little time left, Mr. Marlowe.
Tomorrow, they leave Los Angeles.
Now, will you help me?
No.
Besides, Macduff, you'll never get away with it.
There's a girl, Ashley Duke's niece, who's got a gun, and I- Macduff.
Macduff!
All the way from the phone booth through the lobby into my car outside, I kept telling
myself three things.
One, I wasn't working for Macduff.
Two, Macduff was about to commit a crime.
And three, I couldn't worry about the gun in Merle Brimmer's purse.
It was all none of my business.
So when I was in behind the wheel of my car, I pointed at toward my apartment on Franklin,
lit a cigarette, and forgot about the whole thing.
But a block later, I threw the cigarette out, turned, and headed for Pershing Square.
Scots with animal farms in Burbank obviously weren't the only crazy people in Los Angeles.
After arriving at Pershing Square, I was 30 minutes piling up wisecracks, frozen stares,
and assorted giggles before I hit pay dirt.
A bottle boy with a great memory.
Yeah, sure, I know the place.
Only spot around it'll ship live animals along with the rest of the stuff that they handle.
Anything from an eel to an elephant.
How about penguins?
They got those, too.
That's what I thought.
Yeah, I worked there once during the Christmas rush.
Made the price of a fifth one day.
Now look, look, you'll do it again right now if you can tell me one thing.
The address, what is it?
It's 44...
Come on, come on.
42...
Stick with it.
4th Street.
Yeah, boy.
Here's five.
Crawl back in the bottle.
I'll see you.
The neighborhood was half residential, half industrial, and all rundown, including the
freight house, which was two windowless stories of dirty red brick, hovering over a loading
ramp on a deserted, shadowy street.
I started slowly toward it when suddenly a side door flew open and an excited old man
with flashlight and giant key ring that spelled Night Watchman leaped out of the building
arms and legs going like twin beaters on a mix master.
Hey, hey, Pop, hold it.
Is that the chimp?
Yes, and he's raising the roof in there.
Yeah?
If I shoot him, I'll be fired.
He's worth a fortune.
Yeah, I know all about it.
Come on, I'll give you a hand.
Okay, good.
Well, let's go.
Where is he?
Upstairs, hanging in one window at the back.
I just turned the lights on and there he was.
When he seen me, he grabbed a stick from the floor and started beating things with it.
Oh, fine.
And then he broke the window and began swinging on the block and tackle that runs outside from
the roof to the ground.
Look, there he is.
Yeah, still beating.
Hey, Pop, he's going to fling it.
There he goes, down the roof.
And away.
Well, all right, Pop, we better call the cops.
Over there, near his empty cage.
It's a girl, blood all over her head.
Holy smoke.
Merle Brimmer.
She did?
Yeah.
Beat to death with a stick the chimp just threw at us.
Then, then you think the monkey did it?
I don't know.
Maybe yes, maybe no.
He's a great imitator, Pop.
It could have been somebody else.
Not the monkey.
Then who?
Who else?
A monkey's uncle.
A Dutchman named Macduff.
In just a moment, the second act of Philip Marlowe.
But first, Groucho Marx will make another of his famed personal appearances on most
of these same CBS stations this Wednesday night.
Groucho Marx, whose many activities include emceeing You Bet Your Life, one of the craziest
quiz shows on the air.
We're cordially invited to hear Groucho Marx every Wednesday on CBS.
Now with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlowe and tonight's
story, The Monkey's Uncle.
I walked around the body of a girl on the freight house floor.
I took a close look at the cage lock.
There was no doubt that it had been forced from the outside.
The watchman staring down at the body was shaking like a motorcycle with square wheels.
So I took him by the arm and walked him down the stairs and outside for some air.
It's terrible.
I don't know what to do.
Nothing like this ever happened here before.
The boss never told me what I'm supposed to do in a case like this.
Well, it's easy.
Just call the police.
The police?
Yeah.
Also the SPCA and Frank Buck.
Chances are we'll need them all before the night's over.
Okay, Mr. Sanks, I should...
Hey, who said getting out of that cab?
From the top hat caped in spats, I'd say it was one Lord Ashley Duke, the legal owner
of the chimp.
Oh, what are you two blighters staring at?
Out of my way.
Just a moment, just a moment before you go inside.
I want to talk to you, Lord Ashley Duke.
You know my name, do you?
Well now, my Joe, that's interesting.
I don't know you, sir.
I'll survive.
Why'd you come down here tonight?
Because I heard that my niece was here protecting my property.
That's no suitable task for a girl.
Not capable to do that sort of thing, you know.
It's a man's job, you know.
Had a beastly time finding the place, too.
You haven't been here before, huh?
Oh, yes, yes, a couple of days ago.
But that was in broad daylight.
Now stand aside, sir.
One thing more.
Hmm?
Why did you slug Wesley MacDuff tonight and dump him in a cab?
Just who are you, anyway?
Private detective Philip Marlowe's name.
Hmm, sounds British enough.
About as British as you are.
Hmm?
Oh, yes.
And you, I presume, are the watchman.
Yes, sir, that's me, your highness.
What about MacDuff, your highness?
There's no choice.
The blighter wanted to welch on the transaction we'd made.
I refused and he threatened me.
So, I bopped him.
And then, may doubt he was intoxicated, you know.
Packed him off in a cab, you know.
Nevertheless, when a man sells me a monkey, I, George, that monkey is mine.
Thought that treatment might bring MacDuff to his bloody senses.
Well, it didn't.
It made him tougher.
And what's more, the chimpanzee is gone and...
Cornelius is gone.
Hey, wait a minute.
Wait a minute.
Come on, pop.
Now, you...
What?
What?
Mel?
Mel.
Mel?
What's happened to him?
Oh, no.
Mel.
Mel, baby.
That's the way she was when we found her.
And that crazy monkey was in here just to jumpin' up and down like he was throwin' a fit.
It was MacDuff.
MacDuff, that's who it was.
That madman.
Cory Mackerel!
What was that?
I don't know, but I'm gonna find out.
You stay here.
Stay here!
The scream had come from the architectural blunder next door.
It was one of those big gingerbread houses left over from the 1800s, and I got there just
in time to meet the witch.
The scaly front portal was jerked open in front of me, and there she stood.
Like a pool cue and high panic top by a head of brittle orange hair, half-down-up Titan
curlers, the other half streaming over her face.
She clutched frantically at the stained kimono with one hand and me with the other.
Take it easy.
Hold it, will ya?
What face?
Oh, that face, that oval face!
What face?
The ugliest thing I've ever seen!
Oh, protect me!
It's upstairs now!
All right, take it easy.
Will ya calm down and tell me what happened?
I was upstairs in my room taking my hair down, see?
Yeah.
When I happened to look over at the window, and there was that face shoved right up against
the glass.
Oh, I swear I never seen nothing like that since before I took the cure, mister.
All right, now listen.
And hair all over it, red eyes and big grinning mouth.
What was like one of them giant gorillas they got in the movies.
That's Cornelius, all right.
Where's the room?
Oh, up there at the head of them stairs.
Hey, you ain't going up there and leave me all alone, are ya?
Well then come along.
Cornelius is a trained chimp.
He won't hurt you.
Oh, no, not me, brother.
I'm getting...
Ah!
There he is again!
Where?
Where?
Oh, right there.
He's stuck on his tongue and made a face at me!
Tell me, is that a passage out there between the houses?
Oh, no, no.
It's the kind of an air shaft.
Only it's closed out at the back.
Oh, you mean he can't get through to the alley?
Yeah, yeah, that's right.
There's no way out of there except the street.
All right, come on.
Let's get outside.
We got him cornered.
Oh, you got him cornered, baby, mister.
Not me.
I didn't want nothing more to do with that ugly pulse.
The air shaft was a scant 18 inches wide and as dark and cluttered as the inside of a
goat pen without as to mash.
I worked my way back as far as the bashful light from the street reached.
Oh, be careful in there, mister.
And I stopped and listened.
But Cornelius was a genius.
There wasn't a sound.
I couldn't see my hand in front of my face to say nothing of a black haired chimpanzee
who was no doubt getting a big kick out of the entire procedure.
I decided to try psychology on him.
So I called in what I hoped was a firm but friendly voice and it got me no place.
I groped my way along the wall of the drainpipe and called again.
This time shorter on the friendly and longer on the firm, which was a mistake.
The drainpipe should have given me a hint, but it didn't.
Oh!
Oh!
Oh!
What?
Snap out of it, mister.
He's gone.
Oh, who?
Who's gone?
That gorilla.
It was up on the drainpipe.
It hit you on the head with something that ran right past me and got away in a taxi.
Oh, come on, let's get out.
Wait a minute.
Wait a minute, baby.
I could have sworn you said the monkey took a taxi.
Yeah, it did.
I watched the whole thing.
Oh, my.
As soon as it got out in the street, a man in a checkered tan with a crooked stick in
his hand came out from between them buildings over there and called it.
They ran up to a taxi.
The driver jumped out and they drove away.
I seen him.
The driver jumped out and they drove away?
Yeah.
I don't think you took the cure soon enough.
Well, I seen something else too.
A fat boy in a high hat and spats came charging out of the freight house there, saw the cab
leaving, got in a green coupe that was parked in front and took off after.
Holy smoke, that's my car.
Oh, it's gone.
How do you like that?
Yeah.
Now maybe you believe me, huh?
Every screwy word, sweetheart.
Now look, you didn't happen to see...
Well, look, that's the cab driver there.
Did anybody see what happened?
I got to have a witness.
My taxi was hijacked off by two crazy guys.
One of them looked like an ape, exactly like an ape.
Move over, bud.
We're on the same raft.
My car's gone too.
Tell me what happened.
Will you start at the top?
Okay.
Tonight I bring this big shot in a high hat down here to the freight house.
He hops out, tells me to wait, see?
Yeah.
So I drive down the block and turn around.
I park right over there, trying to grab a quick 40 winks.
When up comes this lunatic...
A Scotchman?
Yeah, that's him.
Yeah.
He throws me a fast address and starts getting in, see?
I politely tell him the flag is down, but he keeps coming.
You see, it's just like I saw...
Yeah, yeah, I know it's just like you.
Now look, did you ever see this Scotchman before?
No, never.
I figure maybe he's got a snood full of happy days, nothing more.
So I'm reaching over to block him when a pair of hands that feels like a doormat with muscles
grabs me around the neck.
I twist around and look, and what do I see?
Cornelius.
Him I don't know, but an ape man is crawling in my wind.
So help me, I'm rubbing noses with a missing link.
Yeah, I know.
Then what happened?
Mac, I jump out of the taxi and before I know it, the old geezer gives me a clout with his stick,
piles in, the next thing my taxi's gone just like that.
You gotta believe me, somebody's gotta back me up.
If I try this on the cops, they'll have me in a padded cell in no time.
Don't worry about it, fella.
Just reach hard for that address the Scotchman gave you.
Can you remember it?
Oh, sure.
Let me see, it was the...
The Rushmore.
Rushmore.
Yeah, that's down at the Heels Motel out on Vernon.
Somewhere's around Beverly Boulevard.
Ed Nathan's...
Oh, stepped on something here on the sidewalk.
Oh, you sure did, cutie.
Smashed it too.
It looks like somebody's watch crystal.
Sure, ladies watch crystal.
Oh, a nice one.
See, it had this hunk of black ribbon with it.
Ladies watch...
Hey, wait a minute, let me see that.
Sure, here.
It's velvet.
Yeah, yeah, it sure is.
It doesn't fit, not here.
No one's been here but the three of us and the chimp.
So long, kids.
Hey, hey, wait.
Where are you going?
I'm gonna talk to a liar about a murder.
I'll see you later at headquarters, I hope.
But what about my time?
Talk to the night watchman in the freight house.
You'll be good for each other.
I was two blocks on foot finding another taxi in 15 minutes getting from there out to the
motel, worrying all the way.
Because I'd left my gun under the front seat of my car.
Business was slow at the Rushmore.
The only cabin that showed light was the last in the rear next to the alley.
I was sure of what I'd find inside.
In spite of the fact that neither the stolen cab nor my coupe was any place in sight.
When I heard the voices, I decided to bluff it.
I went up to the front door and pressed my ear against the flimsy panel.
Anyway, a bargain's a bargain, MacDuff.
You'd have done better to stick by it.
I'd have stuck by it if ye had your scurvy crook.
Don't reach for your chain.
I was a little late for that.
You're in a real jam now.
I'm gonna see you blamed for my niece's murder.
But I didn't kill her.
I pushed her down high.
She got me unlocking Cornelia's cage and tried to stop me.
But I didn't kill her. You did that.
Yes, yes, but who knows that?
Except you and the monk there.
And he can't talk. And you won't, believe me.
Ah, you daft man. Why did you do it?
Because I had to.
Because Merle was bleeding me to death every cent I could lay my hands on.
I had to buy her silence. I had to pretend to lose thousands in poor investments.
Well, Merle got what was coming to her and you gave me that chance.
I found her on the floor where you left her and simply finished the job.
Then you ran off and came back in that taxi 15 minutes later, the very spirit of innocence.
I saw you. Very well lured, Ashley Duke.
You've got me as a thief too, so get on with it.
Get on with your filthy evil plan. I'm ready.
Don't be in a hurry, McDuff. Stay where you are, Ashley.
Don't bother turning around. Just drop the gun.
Oh, I knew you'd know. Let me down, laddy. I knew it.
What's this, old boy? It's rather an untimely hint.
Skip the accent, Bert. You won't need it where you're going.
Drop that gun, I said.
Or you'll move and shoot me with that pipe in your pocket.
Marlow, I've got your gun here in my hand and you know it.
Want a bet?
Well, with the light out... Yes.
Ashley!
Wait!
It's a very strange thing, lad.
He hit you but once, but there are two lumps on your skull.
The akinness condition.
Never mind. Skip it.
I don't want to talk about it.
Where's Ashley?
Thrust up there in the corner. He should be coming around soon.
You see, Cornelius, as you've no doubt learned, is a great imitator.
When he saw Ashley bat you on the head with a gun,
he grabbed McCain, leaped up on the dresser there and batted Ashley on the head.
Oh, no. Not with this headache.
Don't tell me I'm indebted to that. Just when I was learning to hate him.
Aye, we both are. For our lives.
But tell me, what does a black velvet ribbon and a watch crystal mean?
Mumble that over and over while you were out.
Oh. Well, that's how I knew Ashley was a liar and a killer.
See, the cab driver stepped on a round piece of glass
that looked like a watch crystal with a ribbon attached.
Happened on the sidewalk in front of an air shaft.
Actually, the... Oh, actually the glass was a monocle.
Dropped by Lord Ashley Duque.
Oh. Ashley had never been at that spot.
No.
But if Cornelius had and if Cornelius dropped a monocle,
it indicated that Lord Ashley Duque had been someplace with Cornelius earlier tonight, you see.
It could only be the freight house.
Yet Ashley claimed he hadn't been there for two days.
Oh, I see. Oh, you do.
Oh, my head.
How about you, Cornelius?
Yeah, well, that's one of the best answers I've had tonight.
It didn't take long at police headquarters.
Maybe an hour altogether.
A killer was locked up for trial and the key witness ate three erasers,
spilled a quart of ink and broke a window
before the homicide boys finally gave up.
I watched the phony Lord Ashley Duque walk down the corridor to his cell.
Any connection he had with man was just the category.
And I watched Macduff and company leave, too.
A couple of regular guys.
The monkey and the monkey's uncle.
A genuine old Scott who loved life.
And his shuffling friend whose only limitation was his inability to speak.
But he communicated all right.
And the only language that means anything.
Love of one creature for another.
The Adventures of Philip Marlowe bringing you Raymond Chandler's most famous character,
star Gerald Moore, are produced and directed by Norman MacDonald
and are written for radio by Robert Mitchell and Gene Leavitt.
As a special note of interest, Philip Marlowe fans,
you'll be glad to know that radio and television Life magazine has this week
named Gerald Moore as the best male actor in radio.
Featured in our cast were Mary Lansing, John Danaer, Tudor Owen, Sam Edwards,
Michael Ann Barrett, Harry Bartel and Junius Matthews.
The special music is composed and conducted by Richard O'Runt.
Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says...
This time a case hardened car hop knocked me down a flight of stairs.
An honest woman was strangled by a green silk sash
and a simpering dandy was shot to death.
All because of a run-of-the-mill traffic accident 500 miles away.
You hear them all on CBS and one of the funniest parts of that all
comes from the bird brain of a woman, Miss Gracie Allen of Burns and Allen.
Top troopers on the American stage for years, top radio stars after that,
George and Gracie are now playing a big part in CBS's great Wednesday night lineup.
Bing Crosby, Groucho Marx, George and Gracie, Dr. Christian.
Join George Burns and Gracie Allen this Wednesday night on most of these same CBS stations.
This is Roy Rowan speaking.
Now stay tuned for Pursuit, which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations.
This is CBS where Burns and Allen are heard every Wednesday night at the Columbia Broadcasting System.