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The Great Detectives of Old Time Radio| Daily Mystery Dramas· Staffel 17· Folge 318

The Saint: Ladies Never Lie...Much(EP5081)

Montag, 12. Oktober 2026 · 37 min

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Today's Mystery: When Claire Gordon arrives at Simon Templar’s apartment and confesses to murdering her husband, the Saint has reason to doubt her story—especially when James Gordon himself appears moments later, very much alive. But the mystery takes a deadly turn when Gordon is shot outside Templar’s door. As the Saint investigates, a midnight meeting in the park, a suspicious lawyer, and a substantial life insurance policy point to a dangerous scheme. Can Templar untangle the conflicting confessions and discover who is really behind the murder?

Original Radio Broadcast Date: January 7, 1951

Originating from Hollywood

Cast:
• Vincent Price as Simon Templar
• Joan Banks as Claire Gordon
• Peter Leeds as James Gordon
• Larry Dobkin as Louie
• Jim Nusser as Timothy Kerrigan
• High Upperback as the butler
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Join us again tomorrow for another detective drama from the Golden Age of Radio.

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THE END.

Welcome to the Great Detectives of Old Time Radio from Boise, Idaho. This is your host, Adam Graham. In a moment, we're going to bring you this week's episode of The Saint. But first, I want to encourage you, if you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software. And I want to go ahead and let you know about our Cameo service, because do you know that this Friday is National Bosses Day? And if your boss enjoys the great detective's full-time radio, I would be happy to film a cameo for him. But of course, there are other occasions. For example, the 16th is also National Feral Cat Day. So if you know a feral cat that likes the podcast, I can also record a cameo. and

I can even make it extra special if you have a boss who is a feral cat.

Of course, there are.

Other occasions, birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, pep talks, and well wishes for a new occasion. All sorts of things that you can order the service for, and I'll be more than happy to be part of it. Just go to cameo.greatdetectives.net. That's cameo.greatdetectives.net. But now... From January 7th, 1951, here's the episode, Ladies Never Lie Much.

Much.

The Adventures of the Saints, starring Vincent Price. The Saint, based on characters created by Leslie Charteris, and known to millions from books, magazines, and motion pictures. The Robin Hood of modern crime now comes transcribed to radio, starring Hollywood's brilliant and talented actor Vincent Price as.

Coming.

Mr.

Templer.

Yes?

Let me in quickly.

All right.

My name is Claire Gordon.

Well, I can recommend that chair.

I don't have time.

Mr.

Templer, I want to confess.

Confess what?

Murder.

Oh, maybe I'd better take the chair. You're quite serious?

Of course I am.

Would anyone confess to murder merely as a joke?

Might depend on their sense of humor. However, whom did you murder?

My husband.

I see.

You don't believe me.

I have no reason to believe or disbelieve.

But I did kill him.

All right.

You ought to do something about it.

Mrs. Gordon, I can think of many reasons why a woman might want to kill her husband. In some instances, she actually does. But I can think of no reason why she should come to me and tell me about it.

Well, I had to confess to somebody.

You could have chosen the police.

Oh, they're so vulgar.

Murder is not a monopoly of the upper classes, nor is it in itself an especially refined activity.

You don't understand. Before I married Jim, I was Claire Wheelock.

Of the something or other Wheelocks, no doubt. Still, I.

I absolutely refuse to go to some pokey, dirty little police station.

Some of them are quite large, and I understand clean from time to time.

Tell some grubby little man all about my personal affairs.

Murder, according to the statutes, is a public affair.

I think you're nasty.

I'm only trying to be reasonable, after all.

I've heard you weren't always reasonable when... when beautiful women were concerned.

Oh, that's true only on Shrove Tuesday. Oh, I.

I despise you.

Wait, maybe today is Shrove... Oh, no, it's Sunday. Hey, she could be coming back to make an appointment for Shrove Tuesday. No.

You're Simon Templer?

I'm afraid I am. You seem to object.

Why was my wife here?

Your what?

Wife.

And don't try telling me you didn't know she was married, you low individual.

I think you'd better tell me about myself inside. Now then, you are.

James Gordon. And my wife was just here.

How do you know?

I saw her leave. Are you going to try denying it?

Well, not if you saw her just leave.

Oh, that's good. Now, if you don't mind, I'll take my coat off.

You're warm?

I'm about to beat.

Your brains out, you know.

Watch your language. And why do you think your wife was here?

Pretty obvious, isn't it?

I don't know. After all, I never met your wife before. Furthermore, Mr. Gordon, you're dead.

Are you being whimsical?

I'm only trying not to make a liar out of your wife.

She told you she was a widow?

More or less. Actually, she came here to confess.

Are you trying to pull my leg?

I've always thought that a highly overrated indoor sport, except, of course, in the right company.

She came here to confess to what?

To murdering you. What? Apparently, her confession was premature. If, that is, you really are James Gordon.

Well, thanks for the premature. And of course I'm James Gordon.

Who else would I be?

Shall I guess?

No.

No, you can take a look at my wallet.

Thank you. Driver's license. Blue Shield medical plan card, dated. Oddly enough, only a week ago.

What's odd about that?

Apparently you don't expect to die. You are James Gordon. Well, thank you.

Now, would you like to tell me why my wife was here?

She came to confess to your murder. You know, Mr.

Templer, I think I'm beginning to believe you.

Fine. Keep working at it.

Claire is eccentric.

If you say she told you she'd murder me, well, she must have told you.

She did.

But why?

I'm not dead.

Therefore, she didn't murder you.

Then why did she make such an idiotic confession?

Wishful thinking, perhaps.

No, just a minute.

Or perhaps it was only anticipation. Oh, excuse me. Hello?

Hello?

Mr. Templer.

Louie.

Louie.

A half an hour ago, you called for a cab. A half an hour ago, I arrived. A half an hour ago, I was still warm. I am now understudying an icicle.

Oh, Louie, I'm sorry. Come upstairs and thaw out. I have had company. A blunt? To start with.

What are you up to now?

Her husband.

I'll come up. I'll bring a large wrench.

That won't be necessary, Louie. Bye. Mr.

Templer, what you said just before, you mean perhaps she intends to murder me? But why should she want to?

She came to confess, not to confide in me. I, uh.

I'd better run along. Get hold of Claire and I... Well, I'm sorry I bothered you, Mr.

Templin. Oh, it's all right.

Thanks for your patience.

Forget it. Goodbye. Bye. Well, so much. That's right, sergeant. A man named Gordon shot to death on my doorstep. No, Sergeant, I never shoot anyone on my doorstep. It's untidy. I don't know. I... Look, Sergeant, I have an idea. Why not drop in and see for yourself, hmm? Sergeant was quick. Come in. Hi, Mr. Templer.

Oh, Louie.

I forgot you were coming up. You warmer?

Yeah, a little bit, thanks. Friend of yours?

Who?

The gentleman was laying down dead outside your door.

No, we'd barely met.

Oh, well, that's nice. You ready to leave now?

I'm afraid not. I have to wait for the police.

That's too bad.

You know, the guy might be a conservative dresser, but I don't think he does credit to your doorstep.

Oh, I wouldn't say that. His name is James Gordon of the, uh, Gordon Gordon.

Oh, well, that's different, yeah. Did he kill himself, or, uh, did somebody help him?

I don't think he killed himself, Louie.

Why?

Well, he'd just taken out a blue shield card... Oh, planning for the future. Yes, it also means he expected to have a future. Louie, while we're waiting, would you look up James Gordon in the phone book?

Okay. But I could tell you now he won't answer the phone.

I want his address.

But he's moving. He's going to be the mall.

But his wife will still be there. Oh.

Well, here it is.

12 Seven Oaks Drive.

Yeah, it's a very high-class neighborhood.

A very high-class wife.

Maybe I ought to run home and put on my white tie.

Don't be silly, Louie. Under the circumstances, the tie should very definitely be black.

You know, those cops were very nice.

So they were.

In spite of what you asked them.

What do you mean?

You asked him if somebody confessed to murdering James Gordon.

So I did.

Yeah, so don't you think it's a little early for a confession?

Louie, you don't understand. You see, in this particular case, the confession was made before the murder.

Oh, well, that explains it. That explains nothing.

Louie, Mrs. Gordon visited me just before Mr. Gordon did. Uh-huh. No. No? No. What she did do was confess to murdering her husband.

Yeah, but he was still alive.

That's right.

Maybe she's got clairvoyance or something. Oop, 12-7 Oaks Drive, Mr.

Compton.

Good.

Yeah.

Uh, should I wait?

No, you'd better come with me.

Okay.

Okay.

Except, but why?

Well, I have a feeling I'll need a witness.

Oh, so you really don't know Mrs. Gordon very well.

Well, if her confession was true, I don't want to know her at all. But it couldn't have been, huh?

Except maybe it was, huh?

Yeah, that's one way of putting it.

Sure. And that's the way nobody understands, too. Me included.

Good evening, gentlemen. Boy, is he half wrong. Good evening. We should like to see Mrs. Gordon. Come in, please. Whom shall I say is calling? Who? I beg your pardon? Who shall I say is calling? Better grammar.

Listen, bud, for what I dragged down here, whom is good enough?

Oh?

Oh, the Gordons don't pay well?

If you are referring to recent history, the Gordons don't pay, period. Oh, they're having financial difficulties, huh? No, they ain't having no difficulties on account they ain't got no finances.

Hmm, explains the hospital plan, and you'd better slip your English accent on and announce this. I'm Simon Templer, this is Louie. Yeah, hi. Very good.

Since when has Brooklyn grown buttless?

Louie, the Gordons have been in trouble. Mr. Gordon ain't.

Not anymore.

About Mrs. Gordon... Mrs.

Gordon will see you.

This way. Oh, thank you.

Not only will she see you, but you'll see her. Looking at it objective, you're getting the break. She is quite a dish.

Sir, you are speaking of the woman Mr. Gordon loves. Who says?

That's the door. She's on the other side. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. You might open it for us.

What's the matter?

You broke an arm or something?

If he ain't careful, they're going to send him back to Brooklyn.

Mrs.

Gordon?

Yes?

Of course, it's been a little while since we last met, but.

Since we what?

Met.

We haven't met. We haven't... If we had, surely I'd remember, Mr... Templer, I believe my butler said.

We met at my home within the last hour.

Well, I'm sure you have a very charming home, but I was never in it.

Well, I may be able to refresh your memory if you'll be patient with me. You came in order to confess.

Confess?

What? The murder of your husband. Mr.

Templer, if this is some kind of joke.

I'm not joking.

Then it's not in the best of taste.

Aside from everything else, my husband happens to be alive and in splendid health. So, you see, I couldn't very well have confessed to any such silly thing.

Mrs. Gordon... Yes? Your husband's health is no longer what it used to be. He's dead. Dead?

Jim?

Yes, Mrs. Gordon. Oh, no. No. Mr.

Templer, she's going to faint.

Let her.

She did faint. Mr. Templer, King Arthur would never have let you sit down at his round table.

I couldn't afford to be chivalrous, Louie. I had to make sure her faint was genuine. Oh, you thought she might be putting on an act? Yes. However, from the way she felt.

It wasn't no act, huh?

No.

Could that mean that the rest of her story about never being in your apartment are confessing that that's also true?

Hardly.

Well, then maybe she's a twin.

No.

Why not?

Too easy. Come on, help me put her on the couch. Yeah.

You think maybe she's just plain nuts?

Perhaps. Or perhaps, and I quote a playwright of some insight, there's a method in her madness. She's coming, too. The butler can look after her. Come on along. Okay.

Think you guys can find the front door?

Oh, yes. We brought our compass.

How was Mrs.

Gordon? She was fine. I don't think she's doing quite so well now. You might look in on her. It'll be a pleasure. Good night. Good night.

Well, that was a nice visit. Of course, our hostess happened to faint, but... Where are we going now? Maybe we could make somebody else faint.

No, your cab, first of all. And then... Yeah? We wait.

For what? Santa Claus? Mr.

Templer?

He was here recently.

Not Santa Claus, Louie. We're waiting for Mrs. Gordon to recover. Oh, that's considerate of us. Not really. It's nasty of us.

Oh, it is, huh? We're going to hate ourselves in the morning?

That will depend on where Mrs. Gordon leads us tonight.

Well, she ain't in no hurry. We've been waiting ten minutes already.

Give her time, Louie. She had to recover from her faint, make a phone call, dress for the street.

Yeah, maybe, but I get nervous.

You probably need a tonic, had a call.

Yeah, it reminds me. I had a call up in the Bronx once. Oh.

Sorry.

A redhead comes out of the house 15 minutes after I start honking the horn, has me drive at a Grand Central. I ask her why the delay. She says she was very busy murdering her husband, and I laugh like anything.

But you know what?

She had murdered her husband.

That's the last time I'll tell you a story. I was supposed to say that.

I'm sorry. Hey, Louie.

Hmm?

Oh, yeah, yeah, down the block. Mrs.

Gordon, huh?

Mrs. Gordon.

It's a nice car she got.

Give her a chance to get into it.

Oh, yeah, I always forget. Well, she's in now.

Wait a minute. Give her time, Louie. She has to straighten her hat, do her lips, put on her gloves, signal for a right turn, and then.

Yeah, and then pull away from the curb and then turn left.

Right. Come on, let's go, Louie.

All right.

Hey, Mr.

Templer, do you think maybe she's leaving for parts unknown like that redhead?

I doubt it. It would amount to a second confession and one that would be believed. Yeah.

For a woman who just fainted, she's driving plenty fast.

True. You see, Louie, no one dawdles in the shadow of the gallows.

The End Hey, she's pulling up in front of that park entrance.

We'd better stop here.

Out, huh?

Out.

She's heading into the park. We follow her, huh?

Yes. Strange.

Maybe she's just a nature lover, Mr. Templer.

At this hour of the night?

Well, as the law says, you gotta love nature only in the daytime.

It isn't love which brings her here. Careful the way she's stopping. Yeah.

Be the lake.

Hey.

There was a guy waiting for us.

There's no way we can get any closer. She might spot us on the path.

How about getting in amongst the trees?

That's an idea.

Yeah, except how good is it? They ran out of trees just here.

Not close enough to see him, but at least we've just met another figure in the case.

I'll stick to Mrs.

Gordon's.

That is, we can't see him. We haven't been introduced to him.

We have to do something about that. Hey, Mrs.

Gordon is scramming.

Coming back along the path. We stay where we are.

Look, she's almost running.

Yes, probably on very good advice. Huh? She has to be on time for her appointment with the police. They might not approve of her having gone for a midnight stroll in the park on the night her husband died. She's gone.

Yeah, but the guy is still there. We're interested in him now?

Mm-hmm. Very much interested. He'll have to come back this way. We can cut him off. Got to find out who he is. Louie. Hmm? Got a handkerchief.

Boy, you want to show blow my nose?

No.

No. Do as I'm doing. Hmm?

Oh, make like a masked bandit or something.

That's the general idea. Hurry, Louie. Yeah.

Okay.

Okay.

I do. I'm now a masked bandit, but I ain't happy.

I don't have a gun, but perhaps it'll work anyway.

Want the gun you don't have?

Yes, I'll double up my right hand in my coat pocket.

Here he comes.

Okay, stop right there, bud. What? Get behind him, lefty.

I ain't left out. Oh, yeah, I'm behind him, Migsie.

What is this? Stick up. What do you think it is?

You can't do this.

Sure we can. Maybe you like to argue so much you would prefer being ventilated. Being what? Shut up.

Look, you don't have to shoot me.

More of your lip and I'll enjoy it. Shut up. Hand over your poke, huh? Hand over my what? Boy, are you ignorant. The money bag, mister? The wallet?

Oh, here, here.

Thanks. Now keep walking the way you were, see? And don't try looking around. I ain't got no objections at all to shooting a guy in the back. I won't look around.

I won't.

Well, he's gone.

So he is.

Now, we ought to scram through, Mr. Templer.

If he yells for cops... I don't think he will. He might have to explain what he was doing in the park at this time of night.

He'd have an easier job than we would.

Let's see. His name is Timothy Kerrigan. Papers in his wallet. Member of the Bar Association. A lawyer. Oh, fine.

He'll probably sue us for nothing.

A lawyer. Most probably the lawyer for the Gordons.

Well, that would explain why Mrs. Gordon yelled for them, but why would they have to meet in the park?

I don't know, Louie, except that anywhere else they might have been seen together and overheard.

And that would be bad?

It might be murder.

Well, here's your house, Mr.

Templer. Yes, Louie.

Gonna go to sleep?

I imagine so. Nothing to be done tonight, so far as I know.

Yeah. Well, anyways, now we got three suspects instead of two.

Three?

Yeah, Mrs. Gordon, Kerrigan, and the butler.

The butler is never guilty, Louie. Hey, how about coming up for a drink?

Hey, uh, Mr.

Templer. Hmm?

About butlers. Maybe this one ain't guilty, but sometimes one could be, huh?

That's true, but the one we met tonight is too charming a character.

Don't look now, Mr. Templer.

Keep walking.

But your charming character is carrying around a young cannon.

Good evening. How's butling these nights, huh?

Gone. Inside the apartment.

With pleasure.

Thank you. Now, hold it. Nobody move till I put the light on.

Okay.

All the way in.

Now, sit down, both of you. Criticizing?

No, you can't jump me easy sitting down.

Intelligence. We, uh, sit. As for you, you're either an idiot or, um, in love.

It's the same thing. I didn't come here to make conversation with you, Templer.

Why did you come?

To make sure you forgot about Mrs. Gordon's confession.

An idiot in love.

That's got nothing to do with you.

Suppose I refuse to forget Mrs. Gordon's confession.

You'll forget it, either by agreeing to or by being dead.

You want me to promise to say nothing of the confession to the police?

That's right.

Well, suppose I do promise, and then you leave, and then suppose I don't keep that promise.

No, no, why do you have to bring that up? I, I, I, come back.

And kill me then?

Huh.

What good would that do, Mrs. Gordon?

All right, if what you're getting at is that the only way I can be sure is by killing you, then.

How much was Mr. Gordon's life insured for? A hundred grand. Wait, how did you know? There had to be a motive for his death. A motive that would place Mrs. Gordon in danger of being considered likely to have murdered her husband. The Gordons had no money. Insurance was the most probable motive in existence. Kerrigan handled the Gordons' finances? Yeah. Mrs.

Gordon is in love with Kerrigan, isn't she?

No.

I think, yes.

Who cares what you think?

All right. Let's find out how innocent Mrs. Gordon is. Look, pull the window shade down. Front window? Pull an armchair over to the window and sit in it.

Why?

You'll then be silhouetted prettily for the benefit of anyone outside in the street. The drawn shade will make it impossible for you to be identified exactly. Your build is much the same as mine. You will therefore appear to be me to anyone outside. You will also provide a perfect target. To who? To the only one who would have any reason for wishing me dead. The murderer of James Gordon. You love Mrs. Gordon. You're convinced she's innocent.

She's been here before and she'll be able to find her way back. Well, will you sit in that chair? Two in the morning. By this time, the police would long have reached Mrs. Gordon. They're probably finished with their preliminary questioning. She could plead sleepiness. They'll have left the Gordon home, allowing 15 minutes to get here. She should be arriving at almost any moment.

Shut up!

Naturally, you're not worried. Perfect target, though you may. Yeah, and besides, Mr.

Templer, even if she does shoot him, he'll be killed by the woman he loves.

What more could a guy want? I told you that she.

Yes, you were saying? That car. Yes, I heard it.

It doesn't have to be her.

But I'm sure it is. I used. Well, Mr.

Butler, I'm getting out of here. He dives very nice.

And in time. I wonder, with no ready-made target for her, what will Mrs. Gordon do? You better get in the next room, huh? Yeah.

Okay.

Oh, Louie. Will you open the door?

Oh, I don't mind if you do. I wouldn't like to get shot on your doorstep. There's no way to appreciate your hospitality.

I get it. Hello, Mrs. Gordon. I... Well, you're not alone.

No, no.

That's Louie, remember? But better remember inside, hmm? All right.

Send him away.

Oh, I promised him a drink. He hasn't had it yet. I can't send him away.

But what I have to tell you is confidential.

Louie is in my confidence.

All right. It might turn out more convenient if you're difficult.

About what?

Forgetting that I was ever here before. Forgetting I came to you with a confession of murder.

Sorry, but I have a remarkably retentive memory. For example, I remember a girl I used to go to school with.

You'd better forget.

Her for the moment. Oh, I couldn't. I loved her very deeply.

How would you feel about $ 25, 000? Oh, I'd love them.

Very deeply, too. They're being offered to me for a promise to forget? Yes. And if I don't keep it?

You'll sign a paper admitting your promise and acceptance of the money.

That would make you an accessory... You wouldn't dare.

Change your mind.

Hey, she's smarter than me.

Be still, darling. Mrs. Gordon, you're young, you're beautiful, and $ 25, 000 is very attractive. Nevertheless, I shall refuse all of you.

Even if.

Ah, yes, I wondered how long it would be before you produced that. And the revolver you killed your husband with? I didn't. You could convince me in a lot better way.

Can I convince you?

Oh, yes. Your confession helps.

It does?

Of course. Your husband's death makes you richer by $ 100, 000, doesn't it? Yes. Otherwise, you had nothing.

Well, our investments, they were unfortunate.

Mr. Kerrigan handled them?

Yes, he's our lawyer.

So your husband handed over his money to Kerrigan. Did he also know he was handing over his wife as well?

What did you say?

I meant his life, of course. A natural slip of the tongue, you know.

You still haven't told me how my confession was going to help me.

I didn't say it would help you. I said it would help convince me you hadn't killed your husband.

Well, that's the same thing.

Not quite.

Mr. Templer, that was the back door.

Yeah, I know. I was saying, uh... Oh, yes. The fact that you didn't kill your husband is actually of minor importance in view of... Now would be a good time to borrow your gun. Oh! Louie, will you keep Mrs. Gordon company while I see what the boys in the back room are doing?

Yeah, all right, Mr.

Temple. It was Kerrigan. Uh-huh.

I thought it would be. He didn't see me. Came into the room, headed for the door to the living room. He sneaked it open a bit when I... Is he alive?

Yeah, I just got him on the shoulder. He was working in the back while she was.

Yeah, that's right. Hey, Louie.

What, Mr. Templer?

Will you phone the police? They've one wounded murderer to collect, one beautiful accessory before and after the fact.

Oh, no, no.

But of the highest class. Her butler will help her wait. More soda, Louie? No, no, no.

What are you trying to do, drown me?

Here you are, Louie.

Oh, thanks a lot. Oh. Hey, Mr.

Templer, look.

I know Kerrigan shot Mr. Gordon on account of he and Mrs. Gordon were like that. This is a new phrase.

It'll catch on, Louie, believe me.

Also because they needed the insurance, though, to live happy ever after on being the high class types.

But why did Mrs. Gordon confess to you before her husband got killed?

Oh, it was an attempt to establish an alibi for herself, Louie. She expected that I'd immediately phone the police or else take her back to her home to view the corpse. In the meanwhile, Kerrigan would murder Gordon. And that would have left Mrs. Gordon in the clear. Yeah, but you didn't do either of those things.

Why?

I didn't believe her. She had really killed her husband and was willing to take whatever consequences there might be. Why come to me?

Uh-huh. So that loused up her alibi.

Especially because her husband, instead of staying home and getting shot, had become suspicious of her and he trailed her here.

And was in turn trailed by Kerrigan, who saw a natty opportunity for double-crossing Mrs. Gordon and keeping the money for himself. He handled the Gordons' affairs and had the power of attorney.

Yeah, yeah, but look, Mrs.

Gordon's faint when you told her about her husband's death, you know, that was real. You pointed that out yourself.

Of course it was, Louie. But she didn't faint at the news of her husband's death as such. The reason she fainted was because she realized that she'd confessed to me and that her husband had been shot at a time for which she had no alibi. Uh-huh.

Well, now I'm almost smart. Now I can enjoy my drink. Oh, that's good.

Yeah.

Hey, you know, that lovesick butler tells me he's going back to Brooklyn and the kind of life in the upper classes is too low for his tastes.

Poor fellow. He loved not wisely, but too well. On the other hand, what's wrong with Brooklyn?

You have been listening to another transcribed adventure of the saint, the Robin Hood of modern crime. Now here is our star, Vincent Price.

Ladies and gentlemen, in our cast you heard Joan Banks as Claire and Peter Leeds as her husband. High upper back was the butler and Jim Nusser, Kerrigan. Larry Dobkin plays Louis. This is Vincent Price inviting you to join us again next week at this same time for another exciting adventure of the saint. Good night.

This adventure of The Saint was written by Louis Vittes. The Saint, based on characters created by Leslie Charters, is a James L. Safier production and is directed by Helen Mack. Vincent Price is soon to be seen co-starring in RKO's production of His Kind of Woman. All you Saint fans will be glad to know that The Saint comic books are on sale at all newsstands. Your announcer, Don Stanley.

Three chimes mean good times on NBC. Well, it's Sunday again. That means another gala broadcast of NBC's Big Show. This evening, hostess Tallulah Bankhead has a whole flock of guest stars, including Marlena Dietrich. And when the two glamour gals, Tallulah and Marlena, get together, look out for flying sparks. For drama this Sunday evening, Theatre Guild on the Air presents the tense story, The Third Man, starring Joseph Cotton and Sing Nihaso. Join Tallulah and her big show with Marlena Dietrich later on NBC.

Welcome back. You know, I think that there are better ways to arrange an alibi than and even arranged to have someone else find the body, that don't involve pulling a wild card like Simon Templer into the case. But still, it was an enjoyable episode, and I really do appreciate the way that Vincent Price and Larry Dopp can play off each other. as the Saint and Louie. And of course, you can't complain too much if you've got Vincent Price mixing things up as a street thug, a very impressive impersonation that doubtlessly would.

Have alarmed Carl.

Swenson about risk to his job as Mr. Chameleon. Thankfully, Mr. Chameleon was released from New York. All right, well, listener comments and feedback. And we start on Patreon where Jeff has a comment regarding Marvin Hickerson Private Eye. Don't take the hick out of Hickerson says it all about this episode. Actually, yeah, I think, yeah, while it's comedic, the fact is that Marvin was having a bit of an identity crisis trying to be someone he wasn't. And as they say, complications ensue.

Then we have a comment from Spotify. Mechanic66 writes regarding the terrible tin top. I wonder how many Lieutenant Riley's there were in old time radio, movies, and television. Good question. I wouldn't even hazard a guess. Now there are Two programs that had a regular Lieutenant Riley featured that I can remember right off the top of my head. There was Let George Do It with Lieutenant Riley, played by Wally Mayer, and then there was also a Lieutenant Riley in Nick Carter. The Lieutenant Riley in the terrible tin top was a bit of a throwaway character because there's no regular police foil on the same radio program. Now, why the name Riley kept coming up is probably a simple tie to the fact that the police were often stereotyped.

As being Irish.

Now, while some of the stereotypical Irish mannerisms assigned to police officers in programs like Mr.

And Mrs.

North were pretty far from reality, there was also a truth that Irish people made up a very large percentage of the police force. And that would often be reflected, though sometimes it was quite subtle, in the choice of name. For example, Lieutenant Riley on Let George Do It didn't have any unique Irish mannerisms, but he was of Irish descent.

While Lieutenant Riley on Nick Carter gave with as many Irish stereotypes as you can think of, which may be part of the reason why the character in the post-war era was replaced with Sergeant Matheson. Now it's time to thank our Patreon supporter of the day. Thank you to Jim, Patreon supporter since January 2019, currently supporting the podcast at the Detective Sergeant level.

Of $ 7.

14 or more per month. Thanks so much for your support, Jim, and that will do it for today. If you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software, and be sure to rate and review the podcast wherever you download it from. We'll be back next Monday with another episode of The Saint, but join us back here tomorrow for the big story, where... Stop pretty.

You don't have to be 31, 6 feet 1, weight 175, eyes blue, hair blonde.

Sounds like a pretty one.

Pretty, all right.

Especially the dress, too, from Life and Projects. He said he was a handsome type.

Hotel?

What hotel?

It's his car?

Yeah.

Well, did you get him, Chief? No. I told President Scott he drove away alone last night. I haven't seen him since. Forget it. If he beat it, why should he ditch his own car? What was he going to do, walk across the desert? He could have gotten himself a lift. Still, it doesn't make sense. Killing never makes sense. Do you think he did it, Chief?

I don't know.

First, we've got to find Scott Riddick.

I hope you'll be with us then. In the meantime, send your comments to Bucks13 at GreatDetectives.net. Follow us on Twitter at Radio Detectives and check us out on Instagram. Instagram.com slash Great Detectives from Boise, Idaho. This is your host, Adam Graham, signing off.

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