Get this and get it straight. Crime is a sucker's road and those who travel it wind up in the gutter the prison of the grave
There's no other end, but they never learn
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Raymond Chandler's most famous character in
The Adventures of Philip Marlowe
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Now with Gerald Moore starred as Philip Marlowe the makers of Wrigley's spearmint chewing gum are glad to bring you tonight's exciting story
The Gold Cobra
My mama done told me...
Before it's history. Hi, Mr. Marlow.
Hiya, kid.
Get up while it's hot. Paper, seventh race clothing...
Hey, mister, could you please help a blind man?
Could you let me have a buck for my first square meal in a week?
You mean your first shot in an hour, don't you, Jake?
Oh, Mr. Marlow, hi.
How are you?
Sorry I didn't recognize you.
Must be these dark cheaters.
Yeah, must be. How's business, Jake?
Oh, I seem better. You too, huh?
Yeah, sure.
You're just standing around here in front of your office for the fresh air, maybe?
No, I...
Oh, no, don't tell me that ain't it. I got it.
You're making a rendezvous, a secret meeting, huh?
No, Jake, I'm just waiting for something.
Holy catfish!
Look at that jerk out in the middle of traffic.
The guy with the suitcase, getting out of that cab right in the middle of the street.
Hey, he's coming this way.
And he acts like the guy I'm waiting for, suitcase and all.
Here, Jake, here's the starter on that meal. I'll see you. Goodbye.
I got you. So long, Mr. Marlow.
Thanks a million.
Sir, tell me quickly.
You're Mr. Marlow, Philip Marlow?
That's right. You're Roth Wingham?
Correct. Mr. Marlow, is your car nearby?
Yeah, right over there.
Good. Tell Mr. Marlow you've got to get out of here.
My very life may be in danger.
And have you been seen with me, sir? Yours as well.
Quickly, Mr. Marlow. We must be off.
Yeah, yeah. Well, this way, Mr. Wingham.
My new client was right out of Charles Dickens.
But I bit my lip and tried to play it straight.
We piled into my car and took off.
Mr. Wingham is how lies glued to the rear window,
watched and worried hard about whether we were being followed.
But finally he was convinced that we were safe.
He relaxed his grip on the suitcase and fumbled for a cigarette.
Roth Wingham was maybe 50 and had a large bald head on a small, well-dressed body
that just couldn't sit still.
Also, it was at least three to one that the gentleman had ulcers.
He was the type.
Keep driving, please, Mr. Marlow, and do watch the rear view mirror.
Okay.
Now, sir, what exactly did I say to you on the telephone?
Well, you wanted me to fly to Chicago tonight with a suitcase
that contained an item worth 20,000 bucks,
which was earmarked for some museum, right?
Oh, yes, the Ashwell Museum.
Yeah, and you said something about an eccentric here in L.A.
who owned the item. That's about all I caught.
That and the fact that you were very worried.
And I still am.
Now, first, Mr. Marlow, a word about the man who was found.
First, Mr. Wingham, a word or two about the item itself, huh?
You know, I can't afford to play carrier pigeon without so much as a peek.
It's too much like leading with my chin.
Now, what is it?
A gold cobra.
A gold what?
A cobra, a snake, sir, made of 250 separate links,
each some two inches in diameter and each solid gold.
Links, huh?
That makes the snake flexible like the real thing, is that it?
Yeah, precisely.
And the cobra's hood, Mr. Marlow, is spung gold.
Oh.
Originally, the object was a ceremonial piece.
It comes from India, from a kingdom that no longer exists.
Mordecai's Ziff bought it there several years ago.
Mordecai's Ziff, huh?
Yes.
He's the eccentric who lives here in L.A.?
But perhaps intellectual is more the proper term.
Oh.
He lives near here in the Hollywood Hills.
And he is the one who is presenting the cobra to the museum.
I see. Well, tell me, what's your connection, Mr. Wingham?
I am a friend, Mr. Marlow.
Mordecai and I studied together in Europe many years ago.
Really?
We have remained fast companions through the years.
And now that his health is failing, he is a man of 60.
I wish very strongly to repay his kindnesses.
But I need your help to do it.
Yeah, well, that brings us to the party following you.
Who's that?
A creature named Agbar.
Mr. Marlow?
Yes.
He's an East Indian, and he wants the cobra badly.
That's all I know of him except, sir,
that he has no claim morally or legally.
He's merely a fanatic.
Yeah, well, that's not to be sneered at.
It's a full-time job.
Tell me, what does this Agbar look like?
Well, he's thin, he's dark skinned, dark hair, vicious cold eyes.
You'll have to be on the other...
Mr. Marlow, behind you, sir, that taxicab.
We're being followed.
Drive, drive, sir.
No!
You see who it is?
No, but it could be Agbar.
Try to lose him.
That's exactly what I'm trying to do.
The cobra's in the suitcase here, right?
No.
This suitcase is empty.
Oh.
The decoy.
The gold cobra is in a similar bag
that has been checked at the Beechwood Plaza Hotel.
Turn again, Mr. Marlow.
The cab is gaining.
Right.
Now, sir, this envelope contains the claim check for the bag,
as well as your airline ticket to Chicago.
Also, there's a hundred dollar bill included.
Oh.
And you'll get another one when we meet tomorrow night in Chicago.
I'll look for you at the Dearborn Street Station at eight o'clock.
He's still with us, Mr. Marlow.
Yeah, and that's a red light ahead.
We can't slip through.
Then it's time for me to go.
And time for Agbar to follow me.
Me and the empty bag.
Good luck, Mr. Marlow.
I'm counting on you, sir.
By the time the light had changed,
the spry Roth Winkham had already made it to the sidewalk.
The empty suitcase conspicuously in hand.
And when my rear view mirror showed the cab had given up the chase,
I figured the quantity known as Agbar had taken the bait
and followed Winkham.
All of which made my next stop the check room at the Beachwood Plaza Hotel.
Yes, sir, what'll it...
Well, hello.
Can I be of some assistance, maybe?
I wouldn't be surprised.
But at the moment, I just want my suitcase.
Here, honey, it's a black bag.
A black bag?
Yeah.
Let's see.
Oh, here we are.
Number four, five, eleven.
Comes out even.
Must be yours, or mine?
Yeah, it must be.
Thanks, baby.
Here, small token of my apre...
Oh.
What's the matter, handsome?
Your wife just waltzed in?
No wife, just trouble.
Goodbye, princess.
My first time in the
My first time in the hotel entrance was almost enough.
My first glance at the man standing in the hotel entrance was almost enough.
A lot of people could have jet black unruly hair on top of a flyweight build,
but very few people had that kind of wild, sparkling eyes.
They were reserved for fanatics named Agbar.
When he spotted me and started coming in a hurry,
it was time for me and the suitcase to head for the nearest exit.
I took a side door just beyond the check room,
and from there ran the length of the narrow, twisting corridor
that led to the rear of the hotel
and out to the alley where I parked my car.
There I ducked behind a pile of trash cans,
slipped my hand over the 38 in my shoulder holster and waited.
But after a full minute went by,
I figured that it was safe to go to my car.
And it would have been
if the striking redhead crouched on the seat inside
hadn't been holding an also striking pistol.
Just made for ladies.
Don't bother getting in the car, Mr. Marlow.
In fact, don't do anything but hand over that suitcase.
Here, on the seat.
Uh, your mind's made up, huh?
Definitely.
And keep your hands at your sides.
Now, let me have those keys you're holding.
Come on, toss them here.
Yeah.
Now, turn around.
Thank you.
I'm glad you're cooperative.
Don't mention it.
It's your winning smile.
Anything else?
Yes.
Walk in the direction you're facing.
Go on.
Walk it is, baby.
But first tell me, who do I see for my car?
Don't worry.
It'll be returned safe and sound.
Yeah, what about the suitcase?
It's got all the clothes I have in it.
Oh, sure.
You look so fetching in gold, Cobra, don't you?
Good night, Mr. Marlow.
The shock of fire red hair
gunned my car the length of the alley
and then swerved on two wheels into the busy street beyond
and was gone.
I followed to the end of the alley
and started walking toward the hotel.
And I saw something else.
It was Akbar running toward a hack stand.
He had also seen my car disappear,
and that obviously meant that he wanted the first cabin
line to take him someplace in a hurry.
But the driver was waiting for a fare,
which forced him to the only other cabin line,
and almost gave me time to get to it.
Almost, but not quite.
That left only an outside chance that Akbar
had tossed an address at the driver
before he knew that the cab was taken.
Yeah, but it was an outside chance that paid off.
Yeah, sure he gave me an address, pal.
You know, I had the flag down.
I got an old doll inside.
Yeah, yeah, listen, friend, this counts.
What was that address?
Come on, the right answer's worth 10 to you.
A saw?
The same.
Here, here.
All right, what was it?
Let me think, pal.
Come on, come on, come on.
I got it.
Outpost Road, number 818, I think.
Yeah, 818 Outpost Road.
818, Hollywood Hills, huh?
Someone up there you know, pal?
Yeah, could be.
Get moving.
818 Outpost Road.
But, pal, I already told you.
I already heard you.
There's another 10 in it, and let's forget the old doll.
Come on, bust a roll.
Well, pal, a corner mansion there is 800 Outposts,
so this next job must be it.
Whew, looks like the Tyre's my harle joint.
Yeah, that plus enough grounds to build a ballpark,
grandstand included.
I'll get out here, take the driveway on foot.
Okay, pal, whatever you say.
Hey, you want me to wait?
Yeah, you better.
No, no, I think I see my own car up there.
Here's the 10, thanks.
Okay, pal, so long.
Hey, give my love to the Roger, huh?
Brother, what a backdrop for a harem.
50 beautiful girls, 50.
Kindly stand just where you are.
This rifle is loaded and the safety not on.
It was hard to believe.
At the top a genuine African pith helmet
and under that a pudgy Cherubic smiling face
with red roses for cheeks and dimples, an inch deep.
And the rest fit, too.
A round little body dressed in a cocky shirt,
riding britches and polished leather boots.
Happy of the seven dwarfs in jungle getup.
But there the individualism ended,
because like everybody else I'd met tonight,
his interest was in the cobra, exclusively.
Now, Mr. Whoever you are, where is that snake?
Have you tried the grass?
I understand snakes love it.
This is not the time to jest.
There's nothing funny about that cobra.
Not unless 20,000 bucks happen to tickle your funny bone.
For the last time, where is the cobra?
The truth.
Okay, the truth.
Frankly, my friend, I haven't the slightest idea.
Honest, I haven't.
Happy folded up on one punch like it was built on hinges.
I headed for the Taj Mahal on a run.
But when I was past my car and had gone the slippery length
of a tiled porch that led to a pair of half-open,
etched glass doors, I slowed to a walk at the sight
of a single light that came from a beaded lamp in a room inside.
Then I came to a full stop.
The room was about the size of a basketball court
with plush decor that was strictly far east.
An elderly man was standing in the corner of the room.
An elderly man wearing a bright yellow satin robe
and also bright yellow satin turban was stretched out.
Glassy eyes staring at the ceiling.
The front of his robe an ugly blood stain.
Beside him was the lady with the red hair
and next to her the suitcase that wouldn't stay put.
It was a good time for me and my 38 to announce ourselves.
Well, it's certainly outclassed as the alley, doesn't it, Red?
What?
And now it's your turn to keep your hands at your sides.
What do you want here, Marlow?
Did you kill him?
No.
Oh, no, I didn't.
Believe me, I didn't.
I hated Mordecai as if, but I wouldn't do this.
Oh, of course not.
How could I even think of it?
You only stick up people in alleys, steal cars,
walk off with gold lucky pieces worth 20 grand or better, huh?
Marlow, I didn't do this.
My gun hasn't even been fired.
Here, look at me.
Don't try it, Red.
I'm ready.
First, I want to make sure the gold cobra is still intact.
Of course it is.
I never let it out of my hand.
We'll see.
Stay right where you are, baby.
Don't move.
I can unlock this with one hand and cover you with the other.
Okay.
Now we'll know if the cobra's...
Look, look out!
Marlow, it's real, a cobra!
Steady, steady, Red.
Don't move.
No!
Oh, baby, you shouldn't have killed the lights.
That makes the next move the cobra's.
And my gun's worthless.
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Now with our star, Gerald Moore,
the second act of Philip Marlow and tonight's exciting story,
the gold cobra.
We got one good look at a live cobra rearing up
out of the suitcase, its hood distended,
flicking its glossy, forked tongue,
before the only lamp in the room shatterd on the floor
in a blue flash and total darkness surged in.
For an endless moment there was silence,
as soft and thick as black velvet.
Then we heard it.
The snake was moving.
We listened to it crawl slowly out of the suitcase,
ease itself across the table and slither to the floor.
Marlow, Marlow, it's coming toward us.
Stand still, baby, freeze.
Don't move a muscle.
I can't do it, Marlow.
It's your only chance, do you hear me?
No matter what happens, don't move.
Marlow, I'm getting dizzy.
I'm afraid I'm going to pass out.
No, baby, hang on, hang on, I tell you.
Now, Red, listen to me, listen to me.
Talk, start talking, don't stop.
But talk softly.
I...
Who are you, Red? Tell me.
What's your real name? Tell me, tell me.
Abby, Abigail Seaborn.
All right, who killed Ziff, Abby?
Who was it?
Come on, answer me, answer me. Keep talking.
I don't know, Marlow. I told you the truth.
What happened to Ziff's place?
He swindled my Aunt Marcelle out of all her money before she died.
Yeah, go ahead.
Money that was supposed to come to me.
Swindle her how?
He was a mentalist.
Yeah.
A fake mind reader and fortune teller.
He told her lies that made her keep giving him money until there was nothing left.
Addie, girl, keep it up, baby, keep it up.
Why did you take that suitcase away from me at the hotel?
Answer me, Abby, think.
Come on.
I spied on Ziff.
I was out about the gold cobra.
Yeah, go ahead.
I knew if I once cut my hands on it, I could force Ziff to return the money he'd trick my aunt out.
Keep talking.
Oh, Marlow, I can't, I can't stand it that all these names.
Quiet, quiet. Listen.
There's someone in here.
Yeah.
Who's there?
Who is it?
Oh!
He made it out the door.
The cobra struck Addie, Marlow.
It sounded like it was clear across the room from us.
Now look, Abby, Abby, stay where you are.
Don't move.
I'm going to see if I can find a light switch on the wall behind us.
Stand real still, Abby.
You hear anything?
No.
Hurry, Marlow, please.
Believe me, baby, I am.
There ought to be a switch here someplace.
There's got to be a switch.
Yeah.
Yeah, here it is.
Thank heaven.
It's the light again.
Where's that cobra?
I don't see it, Marlow.
We'd better spot it.
That thing's loaded with sudden death.
It's not here, I tell you.
It's gone, Marlow, it's gone.
Yeah, I guess you're right, for the time being.
But in case it comes back, you better keep that gun handy.
Where are you going?
After the guy who beat it through that door.
Right now it pays to be ahead of the game.
But not too far ahead, Abby.
Do you understand?
Yes.
At this point, Mr., I'll do anything you say.
All right, then wait here for me.
And keep your eyes open wide.
This cobra is not the only killer loose in this joint.
The door opened into a long passageway
that offered as much chance to duck for cover
as the inside of a loaded cannon barrel.
And it was so narrow that if the cobra had found its way out there,
it would be within kissing distance when we passed.
The hair on my neck remained at rigid attention
while I edged along the hall toward a dim light at the end
that came from a heavily draped green waiting room.
In the center, facing halfway from me,
was Akbar, the Tauzil head East Indian.
His face was even grayer than before
and his hand trembled as he mopped his glistening frond
with a silk handkerchief.
When I stepped in, he saw me from the corner of his eye.
His face went stony.
Only his right hand moved.
It dived under his jacket for a weapon,
but I brought my gun down hard on the point of his shoulder.
His arm went limp and a knife as wicked as the back end of a scorpion
bounced across the floor.
The dog! You'll pay for this interference.
Out on the installment plan, Buster.
We're going to settle up right now.
How come the live cobra in the suitcase you're so anxious about?
A fiendish trick.
And in the dark, it almost caught you, didn't it?
True, but fortune smiled and the cobra missed.
Yeah, but fortune's a fickle lady, Buster.
Come on, talk it up. Just what are you trying to promote?
The return of this sacred gold cobra to its rightful place.
The temple of my ancestors in India.
The blasphemy perpetrated by Mordechai Ziff
will end only in the restoration of the gold cobra.
And I am prepared to do whatever I must do to accomplish this.
Even to paying money for it.
Or killing?
Or killing.
Death is transitory and therefore inconsequential.
Well, the homicide bureau has other ideas, elephant boy.
So maybe we better just...
I hate to leave you alone, Akbar, but you're better off in the long run.
I watched just long enough to see Akbar melt toward the floor.
Then I ran back along the narrow corridor to where I'd left Abby.
When I stepped in the door, I stopped cold.
She was facing me from across the room, her eyes wide with fear,
her mouth still twisted from a scream.
Directly behind her was an opening in what should have been a blank wall
and inside it, staring out with fixed hypnotic eyes, was a coiled cobra.
Only this one was solid gleaming gold.
I started toward Abby, but I stopped again because...
there was a gun in my back.
That's quite far enough, Marlow.
Roth Winkham. What is this?
You aren't going to like it, Marlow, not one bit.
Give me your gun. Give it to me.
Get it yourself.
I wanted to warn you, Marlow, but he said he'd shoot me.
He took my gun too.
Come on, Winkham, why the switch?
Believe me, Marlow, when I hired you tonight,
I expected a much less bizarre ending to all this.
I intended you to be peacefully on your way to Chicago by now
with the gold cobra safely in tow.
Still just a favor for a friend, eh?
Not exactly. That part was a small lie.
Mordecai Ziff was my partner.
Your partner?
Yes, my dear.
When we felt it was time to move east again,
I decided to break away from Mordecai
and keep the gold cobra for myself alone.
But I needed help.
Because a fanatic named Ackbar turned up who had his eye on the cobra too?
Get over into that empty corner, both of you. Go on.
Move.
Take it easy.
No tricks with the pottery, Marlow.
You shoved him into it.
Never mind. Leave that vase alone.
Get back in the corner.
So it was you who killed Ziff, huh?
I hated him.
For every one of a million indignities I've suffered at his hands.
As soon as I was sure you'd picked up the gold cobra,
I came back here and I killed him.
I just finished it when...
When I got here.
Yes, young lady.
I didn't know about you,
but I managed to get out of here before you blundered in
with that empty suitcase.
Empty suitcase? That's what you think.
That's what I mean.
There on the table, empty, as it has been from the outset.
Just as empty as the decoy I used.
Obviously, Mordecai suspected my intentions
to steal the gold cobra after all.
It was a bit more than that, Winkum, honest.
Oh, what a cozy pair of chums you and Ziff must have been.
You really don't know what he put in that bag, do you?
What are you talking about?
Ziff had a surprise all set for you, Winkum.
It was a...
Marlow, look.
The snake, it's coming out of that box.
Holy smoke, Winkum, there's a live cobra behind you.
Oh, I don't blame you for being a desperate model.
Listen to me, will you?
Oh, that's such an old stunt.
Stay back.
Winkum, kill it, I tell you.
It's right behind you.
Stop it. You're only wasting time.
No, no, no, no, no.
Oh!
I'm bitten! I'm bitten!
Oh, no.
He's out and it's no help, baby.
That thing's still between us and his gun.
Get behind me. Get behind me.
Back in the corner.
Marlow, we're trapped. We can't get past it.
Get back, will you?
Maybe I can throw my coat over it long enough.
Hey, anybody here?
What's the matter?
Oh, it's the jerk in the pith helmet.
It's you. Over here.
What in the world's going on, anyway?
Get over here with that rifle, will you? Hurry.
What's the meaning of all the...
Birdie, good heavens, my cobra.
Kill it, will you? Shoot.
Quiet. You're in a spot, folks.
No, Solon.
She's got you within striking distance, so don't move.
Just stand still.
Very still.
Come on, Birdie.
Birdie, now, now.
Come on. Take a look at the end of the rifle, Birdie.
See the hole?
That's it in the end.
Fascinates you, doesn't it?
Steady, folks, don't move.
Keep looking at the little hole in the rifle, Birdie.
That's right.
Now back up.
Back up.
That's the way.
Into the sack, Birdie.
Little more.
Now pull your head in like a good girl.
That does it.
Now we've got you safe and sound in the sack.
Oh.
Whoever you are, brother, you're a genius.
Crumpler's the name. Otis Crumpler.
Snakes are my business.
The most amazing thing I've ever seen.
Yes. The most amazing thing.
Abby. Abby.
Why, she's fainted.
Well, what's wrong with she, Bitten?
No, no.
But I know what she means.
Look, if you don't mind, Crumpler, I think I'll...
I'll sit down myself.
Right here.
Well, when the police finally moved in,
they gave the degenerate Taj Mahal a long once over.
And then we're joined for more questions and answers
to the hospital where Abby Seaburg was getting a nerve back
and Ackbar was nursing the split scalp I'd given him.
And while Otis Crumpler and I waited for the word downstairs
in the coffee shop,
Roth Winkham, my client, was busy dying of cobra venom
in spite of Crumpler's best efforts.
Well, that's the way it is with cobras, Mr. Marlowe.
Sometimes there's just nothing you can do.
Sugar?
No, thanks.
He had it coming, Otis.
Oh, both of them did.
Mardochai Ziff was a slimy sort, too.
You know, he'd been snooping around my snake farm
for several days.
And then tonight, when Bertie turned up missing from her cage,
I just knew that he was behind it some way.
But I couldn't figure why anybody would steal a cobra.
You know what I mean?
Yeah, vaguely.
Phil, Phil, guess what?
Oh, Abigail Seaburg is well enough for coffee.
Sit down.
Oh, it's better than that.
The police think there's a good chance that that bar
will be able to buy the gold cobra and I will get the money.
How do you like that?
I like it fine. Where are we going to spend it?
Oh, well, I know a certain kind of snake bite remedy
I'd like to try right now.
I think we deserve it, mister.
It comes in bottles and they call it scotch.
Oh, no, not whiskey.
Oh, not for snake bite. Oh, no.
Oh, that's the very worst thing you could do.
It stimulates the heart and makes the blood go faster.
And that, Mr. Crumpler, is exactly the idea.
Come on, Phil.
You know, there are many things that can lead to romance.
Usually it's moonlight.
Sometimes it's a bit of a song.
But whoever heard of a snake playing cupid?
Yeah, well, there was a snake in the Garden of Eden.
Yeah, but come to think of it, he kicked up quite a fuss.
Phil.
Hmm?
What are you thinking?
Uh, snakes.
What are you thinking?
Apples.
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The adventures of Philip Marlowe presented by Wrigley's Spearman Gum
bring you Raymond Chandler's most famous character and star, Gerald Moore.
Philip Marlowe is produced and directed by Norman MacDonald.
And written for radio by Robert Mitchell and Gene Levitt.
Featured in the cast were Howard McNeer, Lynn Allen, Wilms Herbert,
Lou Krugman, Bill Lally, and Michael Ann Barrett.
The special music is composed and conducted by Richard Aran.
The makers of Wrigley's Spearman Chewing Gum hope you enjoyed tonight's adventure of Philip Marlowe
and that you're enjoying Wrigley's Spearman Gum every day.
We invite you to be with us next week when Philip Marlowe says...
This time I caught a killer on a lonely pelican's roost.
It took a fistfight on the sidewalk,
a flyway drummer with an ice pick in his back,
and a vicious meeting on a yacht to do it.
That plus the color of a girl's hair.
This is Bob Stevenson speaking and this is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.