It was a grim joke that started when six heirs came to an ugly house on a rainswept island to hear a madman's will. But the joke soon turned to murder, and in the end it was hard to tell who had the last laugh. 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 Last Laugh. I'd spent a week wading through moldy beer joints and cheap hotels after a dancer on the downgrade. And when I found her, she was two days dead in a coal cellar, all of which left me with a rancid taste in my mouth. But when I woke up after a night's sleep to the tune of a robin on my windowsill, I realized it was spring, and time for Marlowe to take a long, easy weekend someplace. Someplace where the surf meets sand like a desert, say, Ensenada. Without so much as a second thought, I threw some clothes in a bag, phoned the Riviera Pacifico for reservations, and charged out the door, where I ran head on into a funny man with a studious face charging in. Oh, I'm awfully sorry. Why, why, you're Philip Marlowe. Yeah, yeah, I know. My name is Darwin. I represent the law firm that handles the interests of Julius Spangler. Did you say Julius Spangler? Goodbye, Mr. Darwin. Now wait, Mr. Marlowe. Now listen, I had a run-in with that screwball Spangler less than a month ago. A man was knocked down a flight of stairs I got shot at, and the poppin' house was set on fire, and Julius called it a practical joke and laughed himself silly. Best I could do for him was three days in jail. It should have been three years. Goodbye, Mr. Darwin. Hey, but that sort of thing is all over now, Mr. Marlowe. Mr. Spangler is dead. Spangler's dead? Yes, he died last week in Brazil, the result of a hunting accident, and he has named you in his will. He's named me? You mean I... Precisely. You're one of Mr. Spangler's heirs. I shall read the will tonight at eight o'clock in his home on Catalita Island. I, uh, I trust you'll be present. Not on your life. It's me for Ensenada and nothing's gonna stop me. Goodbye, Mr. Darwin. There are only five other heirs, and the estate runs well over $500,000. Oh? Almost any way you split that much up, Mr. Marlowe, it comes out something more substantial than a weekend at Ensenada. Goodbye, Mr. Marlowe. It was fantastic, but then so was Julius Spangler. Who knows, maybe he actually admired me for throwing him in jail. After all, what's old Mexico got that Catalina doesn't have and better? What could I lose? It was only a matter of minutes before I was in Wilmington and climbing the gangplank of the last boat to Catalina Island. She nosed past the breakwater and headed for the open sea, and the green water glistened with gold from the sun, slanting into a bank of clouds on the horizon. Ah, this was the life. I sat back and relaxed for all of ten seconds before the name Spangler came up again, this time being volleyed between a matron meticulously tailored by I.J. Fox, who clung to a pipe-smoking gentleman at the rail and a cute blonde ball of fire facing them. You're a bumble-ball, Nicholas Spangler. Some of my friends are aboard, and I don't want to be seen with you. Look, you may be your highness Millicent Burke Ashby to those snoots, but you're still just millispangler to me, you overstuffed social climber. Why, you insufferable little upstart, I'll... Oh, nothing. I'll give him a good show, like this. Oh, Nicholas Spangler, you spanker. Spangler, take me away from here. Of course, my dear. I'm not. Well, what are you staring at, buster? Haven't you ever seen a red jersey sweater before? Eh, how do you do? Yeah, that sweater plus that right hook of yours adds up to quite an exhibition. You must belong to Julius. He was my uncle, but... Now, wait, don't tell me you're in his will, too. Then you're Philip Marlowe. Yeah, I got him three days in the cul-loss, and now I'm an heir. Who are your two friends? Millicent Burke Ashby, my half-sister, a professional snob I'm going to get mad enough at to kill one of these days. The jerk with her is Bennett Haynes, a cousin not enough times removed. They're also heirs. Which still leaves two more. Yeah, an old geezer who collects butterflies and that blockhead Roderick who passed for secretary and companion to Uncle Julius. Yeah, I know Roderick. And what do you pass for, Nicky, as if I couldn't tell? You can't. Ever been in Nick's Bar and Grill on La Brea, Marlowe? Well, I'm Nick. No kidding. Mm-hmm. And if this inheritance hadn't come along, I'd have lost my shirt. Boy, I'm really in a money jam, and Uncle Julius is saving the day for me. Yeah, but he had a die to do it. Well, sure, that's the only way he ever would. I wrote and asked him for a $10,000 loan once. Got a check back in the return mail, but it was signed by Alexander Hamilton. So I came out here to Catalina to see him, but he'd already left for Iceland. I spent a week by myself painting his launch for amusement, then I went home again without a cent. Hey, he was a charmingly whimsical old man. By the way, where's his house? Over on the deserted side of the island, naturally. Naturally. The only way to get to it is by launch. Roderick's going to meet us when we dock at Avalon. Oh, fine. You mean we'll be stuck at Spangler's old house all night? Is that bad, Phil? It's quite lovely, in a lot of ways. Two hours later, we docked at Avalon, and the clouds that had been on the horizon were now overhead and looking very soggy. Roderick, the late Mr. Spangler's secretary in a striped silk shirt, gold hickok cufflinks, polka dot bow tie, and derby, was waiting for us with a launch. And after we had all shivered through another spray-splashed, wave-bucking hour and a half, we finally pulled into a small cove. A house spotted alone on a point of rocks a hundred practically vertical feet above the water. And as we laboriously made our way up to it, the rains came. Julia Spangler would have loved it. When the door closed behind us, everyone dashed for the nearest fireplace, except me. I was cornered by a septuagenarian with a shock of white hair, a scraggly yellow moustache, and spectacles so thick, it looked like shot glasses with horned rims. He rolled up in a wheelchair, which he handled like it was a hot rod, skidded to a stop, and shoved a fistful of brandy out of me. Howdy, young fellow. This, I figured, was the butterfly-collecting cousin, Matthew Spangler. I'd have a slug of this before pneumonia sets in. Well, sir, I suppose you're here for the reading of Cousin Julius' will. Yeah, yeah, that's right. Oh my, oh my. Wouldn't miss it for the world. He's leaving me his collection in Inflidia. Butterflies, you know. I don't like money, just bugs. Figures. Yes, sir. Been an entomologist for 50 years, lepidopterist for 40. I've got specimens of 12,000 species. Only a few thousand left to go. Practically nothing. You're a keen mind. Here, have a cigar. Thank you. No, I... Go on, go on, go on. It's the best. Save it for later when you've got something to celebrate. Oh, there's Roderick. He'll show you around. I want to go meet these young ladies. So long, sir, and I'll see you. Out of the way, Roderick. Hey, hey, hey, hey, Walter, watch it. Crazy wheelchair jockey almost ran me down. Well, Mr. Marlowe, it's nice to have you with us. Yeah, yeah, I'll bet. Look, Roderick, why did Julius stick me in his will along with all his relatives? I don't know. Maybe he was nuts. You can say that again. Keeping all his junk, for instance. Junk? Well, these are trophies. That burnt match there was used in the first hot foot. Julius perfected that gag in 1903. Spangler contribution to American culture, huh? Well, get you. What did you ever do? Wadewise guy, this one's even better. He panicked the whole city with this morning newspaper headline. Here. Hmm? A report of baby snakes and city water system falls? Yeah. He tells them there's nothing to it and they still blow their tops. That's tremendous, huh? Yeah, yeah, quaint. Julius was right. You've got no sense of humor. The lawyer, Darwin, will read the will in 30 minutes, so be ready. I passed a half hour at a window with Nicky watching the rain slash at the glass. At eight o'clock on the button, the library doors swung open and Darwin summoned the sixth of us into the room. As we sat down, the lawyer chewed his way through the legal preliminaries for the first time. It was a tense hush. A half a million dollars changing hands was an impressive occasion. And what was more impressive was that I might get some of it. I even caught myself wondering about inheritance taxes. Darwin completed the introduction of the will. Yes, it will bring us up to the disposition of the real and personal property of Julius Spangler, who passed away this life, March 26, 1949. Oh, poor old Julius. I can't believe he's really gone, Millicent, you know. Oh, he was a darling beneath it all, then, his poor lonely dear Uncle Julius. Oh, quiet, quiet. Get on with it, you old relic. Read it. Yes, go on, please. Yes, very well. First, to my dear cousin Matthew, I leave my cyanide jar, the silk net, and the collection of nympholydia. Good old Julius, I knew he'd do it. Bless his old bones. Yes, well, to Philip Marlow in Trepid Shammish. Oh, that's private detective, I think. Oh, yes, private detective. With no sense of humor, 10,000 empty beer bottles worth five cents apiece. Clean, these aren't. Yes, well, for this I skipped Ensonada. I should learn. Oh, Phil, I'm so sorry. Oh, please, Nicky, what did you expect, really? Millicent, be quiet. Go ahead, Darwin. What about us, his real heir? Yes, Mr. Darwin. Yes, well, to Millicent Burke Ashby, granny, 50,000 dollars, which is... Oh, dear, dear Uncle Julius. ...which is the value of a fish market at Central and Northrop Streets on the condition that she personally operate this market for one year. Oh, good heavens, I think I'm going to faint. Oh, shut up, Matthew. Go on, Darwin. Am I next? Yes, you are. Yes, yes. 75,000 dollars and a dog sled. A dog sled? What's that for? To get your claim. You see, the money is the assayed minimum value of a gold claim at Point Anxiety, Alaska, which it says here you must develop with your own hands. Quiet, that doddery old fool. I'll fight this travesty of a will through every court in the street. He'll never get away with this. Oh, wait a minute. You've never worked for anything in your life, Bennett. What was that? Oh, you two got no more than you deserved. Why? What about me, Darwin? I've worked, at least. Farewell, Miss Spangler. I believe you better sit down. To my grand-niece, Nicola, who has learned how to work hard for what she wants, I leave my sincere congratulations and one dollar. Oh, no. He wouldn't. I need money now. And finally, all the remainder of my property, real and personal, I bequeath to a most genteel, brilliant and loyal man, my secretary, Roderick D. Driscoll. Now, ain't that sweet of the old man? That's over 300,000 dollars to this baboon here. You'll never get it. I'll call my lawyer and he'll fight you here. Oh, this is horrible. It's too bad, baby. When are you going to have my 500-dollar fortune and old beer bottles? Me for Ensenada. Oh, what's so funny, Matthew? He got what he wanted, Nicky. Let him live. I'll say I did. Whoa! Shut up, shut up, Matthew. Stop it, Matthew. You're hysterical, Matthew. Hysterical, huh? I sure am, kiddo. But Matthew... Get a load of this! We all stood there with our mouths hanging open as the old invalid leaped to his feet, tipped over his wheelchair, made a grab for a shock of white hair with one hand and ripped it off. It was a wig and a good one. With the other hand, he tore the phony yellow mustache off his lip and, still laughing like a ticklish hyena, he identified himself as the one and only Julius Spangler, alive and in the flesh. Yes, this is the crowning achievement of my career. Look at you. Look at your silly faces. I wasn't going to give it away till tomorrow, but I couldn't hold it back. Oh, this is rich. The best gag we ever pulled. Right, Roderick? Roderick? Oh, yeah. Yeah, right. This is humiliating. I'm calling the firm at once. You're mad, Julius. Absolutely insane. Why? Why? Because you can't stand the smell of fish? Oh, you. What about you, Marlow? Did I get the last laugh on you or didn't I, huh? You did. You're still nothing but a mixed-up jerk, Julius. Wonderful. But I want to see you mixed up with those dirty beer bottles. Wash the labels off. Get a nickel back, you know. I'd like to break every one of them across the bridge of your nose, funny man. That's what I like. A good sport. How about it, Nicky? Isn't it funny? Not very. What do you mean? I sat in at the reading of my own will, so now I know what you really think of me. Not quite, you don't. Because I think this. You vixen who spit on me. How dare you out-kick a man. No, you don't, Spangler. Stop it. You lay a hand on her, I'll flatten you in spite of your years. That goes for you too, Roderick. Stay back. Ha ha ha. Ah, none of you can take a joke. Look after these fools, Roderick. Get them anything they want. I'm going to have a good laugh all by myself. Ha ha ha. After the mastermind of the impractical joke had guffawed his way out of the room, Roderick took his life in his hands and invited everyone to coffee and brandy. But the zest had gone out of the erstwhile airs like the snap from a secondhand girdle. So without as much as a backward glance, they all went their separate ways to their rooms. All but Marlow. I drank coffee and brandy, and since the rain had stopped, tried for twenty minutes to threaten, bribe and argue Roderick out of a way back to Avalon. But he swore it was impossible, and I was about to swear back at him when we heard it. We ran through the French doors at the end of the room and out. Millicent was on the walk outside, her hands clamped against her mouth, tearing down at the rocks near the surging water, eighty feet below. Mrs. Ashby, what happened? What is it? Millicent, what's the matter? It's Julius. He's down there. He must have fallen. Yeah, by the latter he was pushed by somebody who couldn't take a joke. In just a moment, we will return to the second act of the adventures of Philip Marlow. But first, it stands to reason. It's a proven fact. If we all work together to produce more per man, per machine, per hour, every one of us will gain from the cooperation. This is the American economic system. It operates for the benefit of all the people. We can and should cooperate for better jobs, higher incomes, more of the good things of life. For your free copy of the booklet, The Miracle of America, write Box 10, Times Square Station, New York City. Now, with our star, Gerald Moore, we return to the second act of Philip Marlow and tonight's story, The Last Laugh. It was eighty feet from Spangler's balcony to the ugly jumble of sharp black rock that lined the shore. It was there minutes after Millicent's all-out scream that Roderick and I found the broken body of the man whose rocker slab still seemed to be tangled in the wind around us. And when we turned our eyes up from the death at our feet back to the balcony above, we could barely make out the crosspiece of the porch rail still dangling at a crazy angle from its single remaining support with all the ominous silence of the gallows. Gee, Mr. Marlow, I can't believe that he's gone and that all this really happened so... Mr. Marlow, what are you looking at? Up there, on the balcony. There's someone moving, Roderick. Which makes this a good time to start counting noses. Let's go. What about Millicent? Shouldn't we look after her? No, no, for the time being. Come on. Come on, Roderick. I want the fastest way over those side stairs there. Lead us back up to the balcony because right now I'm in one big hurry. There's nobody here, Marlow. Are you sure you saw... Hold it, hold it. Somebody's coming. Get back away from the rail. Boy, it's Bennet Haynes. Yeah. I'm very interested in the spot where that crosspiece came loose from the top of that post. What's he doing there now? I mean, the way he's scratching something across the top of it. The gentleman, Roderick, has forgotten that it rained. Oh. He's trying to strike a match on wet wood. Mr. Haynes! What? Would you like to use my thumbnail? It's dry. Why, Marlow, what are you and Roderick doing here? It's called spying. And you, Mr. Haynes? I am here, Marlow, because I think it's very strange that this accident should have happened less than an hour after Julius Spangler left a room full of people who hated him. Which incidentally included you. Yes. But I know that I had nothing to do with this. Now, here, a couple of matches for that stellar thumbnail. Don't go too close to the edge, Marlow. Thanks, Roderick, I won't. I'll only go close enough to... Marlow, if you're staring at that mark across the top of the post, stop wasting your time. I just made it with that match that wouldn't light on wet wood, remember? Mm-hmm. But that mark is not what I'm staring at. It's this green one here on the edges of the top of the post. A mark that could mean somebody pried the crosspiece loose with an object that was covered with green paint. All of which points up two things, huh? First, that someone murdered Spangler by loosening this rail, and second, that I've still got a couple of noses left to count. One belongs to a lawyer named Darwin, and the other to the fancy owner of Nick's Bar and Grill. What's that? It's Millicent III down below! Yeah, in trouble. Come on! I must follow the leader with me out in front, back down the wooden stairs, and over to the spot where Millicent Burke Ashby, the tailored lady, was sprawled over a lot of soft ground. Unhurt, but coming apart at the seams in more ways than one. I sent Bennett Haynes off to find Darwin and then helped Millicent to her feet. Oh, God, how can you? Shook well and waited for results. Millicent! Millicent, it makes sense. Come on! It was a force! Take her from the top, will you? Tell us what happened! Oh, it was Nicky! Yeah? I saw her running away from the house. Go on. She was running toward the water. And when you tried to stop her, she knocked you down? Yes, yes, she snapped me and said, I should keep my mouth shut! Did she say why? No, she just said something about the green paint. Green paint? What about it? Come on, Millicent, think hard. What about the paint? Oh, I don't know! What does this mean, Marlow? We've got to get to Nicky Spangler fast. Roderick, she was headed down toward the water. How many boats are tied up there? Just a launch and a little. Yeah? No, wait a second. There's the outboard. She used to run that herself. All right, then we split. You for the launch and me for the outboard. Now, where is it? We're down there and I've poached it behind the trees, but you'd better let me take care of that, Marlow. It's dark and slippery in there and I know my way around. Oh, thanks. I'll take my chances. At the moment, I'm very anxious to meet up with that lady again in person. Now, you get to the launch and you, Millicent, back to the house. Whoever finds her, yell, good and loud! The boat shed was a one-room bungalow on stilts. When I started inside, slowly, unsure of both my footing and the company on hand, I was suddenly very sorry that I'd left my 38 back in L.A. But in the next minute, I began to breathe easier because just visible ahead of me was a spangler outboard. When I got closer, I saw that it was empty. Then I heard somebody behind me. I turned just in time to see a thick, crooked branch coming at my head fast. Oh! Oh! Oh! I couldn't... I couldn't tell if the warm blood trickling from the cut just below my ear was... was from where the branch had hit my head or from where my head had hit the planking. But it didn't matter because either way, it hurt. I... I got to my feet slowly. I reached into my pocket for one of the matches that Haynes had given me in the faint hope that a little light might... might reveal something about whoever had been guilty of relaxing me like a chocolate soldier in a Turkish bath. But then, even as I was about to strike the match, I stopped. Framed at one side of the open door where it was the silhouette of a man. I stood where I was and waited motionless while he slowly took a step toward me and another. When he started on his third, I grabbed him. Let go of me! What are you doing? I'm twisting your arms, Owen, just in case you're still carrying a thick branch. I haven't got anything in my hand. All right. Now, what are you doing here? Come on, barrister, at the moment you're my witness, so talk. Why are you here? I... I... I spoke to Millicent. Oh, Mr. Marlow, is... is the witness relieved? Yeah, I guess so. Sorry about your arm, Owen, but the last visitor here wasn't empty-handed. This time I wanted to be ready. Do you have any idea who the visitor was, Mr. Marlow? No, no, I don't. I was just going to strike this match to see if I could... Oh! Oh, my head. Oh, here, here, here, Mr. Marlow, let me strike it for you. Thanks. I doubt it will do any good. Oh. Now, there, you see anything? No. No, nothing. Well, it was a long shot anyway. And what? What do you see, Mr. Marlow? What is it? That one. Something I should have seen a long time ago. And by that I mean that the launch of Nicky Spangler is my next stop. Goodbye, friend. Thanks for the interruption. It may save a life. It was a 440 with plenty of obstacles and no lights when the boat shared down to the launch. But even as I got there out of breath with the shooting pains in my head making a dartboard out of the lining of my scalp, I knew who had murdered Julia Spangler. But I didn't know where the wise and wherefores of the green paint that had everybody running. A minute later, I quietly climbed aboard the launch and started slowly to the stern where I could hear voices. I knew that the explanation wasn't far off. When I was close enough to see Nicky standing in the reflected light of the moonwash, I didn't have to hear anything because clenched in her hands and held close to her side was the answer to the marks I'd seen on the post on Spangler's balcony. It was a crowbar, the business end of it covered with green paint. Opposite her was the reason for the fear in her voice. It was the man who had killed the practical joker, Julia Spangler's ever faithful secretary, Roderick. You're being awful stubborn, Nicky, which is something you must have got from your late grand uncle. Now give me that crowbar. Why? So you can get rid of it, me too, and then return to the others and mourn the loss of your employer? Sure. I just love everyone to think that I miss them terribly when the truth is that I kill them. I hated him and his stupid jokes every minute of every day that I worked for him. Hated him, Nicky, the way I hate you and your snooping ways. Now give me that crowbar. Don't do it, Nicky. Don't move, Roderick, or I'll blow your head off. Marlow! Phil, Phil, thank goodness. Now get back, Buster, get away from her and stay in one place or I'll shoot, so help me. Marlow, he did it. He killed Julius because he hated him. I haven't a chance at a half a million bucks, right, Roderick? I don't know what you're talking about. Then, oh. Oh, oh my. What is it, Marlow? Nothing, honey. I walked into a branch that our friend here was holding a little while ago. I still don't know what you're talking about. Then I'll make it real plain. Roderick, you killed Julius Spangler because you wanted to turn his greatest practical joke into a bonanza for yourself. You wanted that screwy will to stand. Nobody else was in on the gag, not even the lawyer. So nobody else would ever know that it was only a gag. Nor would anybody care that some wacky old cousin who liked butterflies accidentally fell to his death. But, Marlow, Julius was killed after we all knew the whole thing was only a practical joke. Yeah, yeah, but that wasn't part of the original plan, Nicky. Julius wasn't going to unmask himself in the joke about the will until the next morning. Isn't that also correct, Roderick? Yeah, yeah, that's correct, Smart Cut. I was going to get everything, but when that fell, I still wanted him to die. And I would have gotten away with that if this dame here hadn't been so curious about those green markings on the railing. And, Roderick, if this same dame hadn't also remembered a crowbar that she'd once built some green paint on. I heard enough. Yeah, yeah, for the time being, I guess you have. Oh, Marlow. Marlow, it's your head again, isn't it? Yeah, isn't it, the poor boy? No, Roderick, stay back! Oh, Marlow. Marlow, you all right? Huh? Are you? Not exactly, honey. Did you get him? Yeah, with the crowbar, no less. Oh. But you better give me your gun in case he wakes up suddenly. I can't. I haven't got one, baby. You don't have one? But you're going to pass out. What'll I do with him? Oh, baby, there's only one thing to do. Let him have it again. Marlow. Marlow. Marlow, are you all right now? Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm all right. What's going on? Oh, Nicky. Nicky, and before you can say where am I, I'll tell you, honey. This is Avalon, a lovely spot on the island of Santa Catalina. It's now two o'clock in the morning, your head isn't so much as fractured, and you're sitting up in a chair that belongs to the nice lady who rented you this room at a reasonable price. And the others? All back at the place, except, of course, Roderick. Last I heard of him, he was still answering questions for policemen, which, by the way, brings me right to the point. This I gotta know. Phil, how did you figure that Roderick was guilty? Wet wood, Nicky. Wet wood that should have been dry. It was up on Julius' balcony. The top of the post that had green moss on it was wet. Even though the tight-fitting crosspiece that rested over it should have kept it dry. So obviously the rail was pried loose just before the will was read, while it was still raining. How do you figure, Marlow? Well, because it had stopped raining and the moon was shining by the time Matthew identified himself as Julius Spanglet. But no one would have wanted to kill Uncle Julius without having heard the will. Nobody but Roderick. He was in on the whole joke and knew that he was going to get 300,000 bucks out of the phony will. So he merely pushed the old man off the balcony, made it look like an accident, see. Yeah. And, uh, and you doped all this out just like that? Well, no, not just like that, Nicky. Finally I caught on. And now, sweetheart, in spite of the bandage, I think a little stroll along the beach is going to do me a lot of good. You know, I'm officially on vacation. Rest in recreation for two full days, at least. Here in Avalon, maybe. Where else? See you later, Nicky. I got outside and down to the pretty strip of beach that runs along behind the spot with a steam of ducks. I felt a lot better. I sat down on the moon-drenched sand and relaxed for the first time that night. As I sat there, I reached into my breast pocket for a cigarette, but instead came out with the expensive cigar that Matthew Spangler had given me. It wasn't until I had lit it and was puffing along that I suddenly remembered that Matthew Spangler had really been Julius, so I got rid of the cigar. Hey, just in time. I wasn't sure, but maybe Julius Spangler, wherever he was, was having the last laugh after all. The Adventures of Philip Marlowe, created by Raymond Chandler, star Gerald Moore, and are produced and directed by Norman MacDonald. The script is by Mel Dennelly, Robert Mitchell, and Gene Levitt. Featured in the cast were Alan Reed as Julius Spangler, and Dora Singleton as Nicky, with Ann Morrison, John Danaer, Paul Duboff, and Peter Leeds. The special music is by Richard O'Runt. Be sure and be with us again next week when Philip Marlowe says... The partner from Mexico City, the stranger dead in Nevada, and the man with the cauliflower ear all added up to a corpse on a concrete floor. But I couldn't figure why until I had found out that there was one name above all that had to be remembered. Tonight, CBS's great hour-long Saturday night fun show, Sing It Again, will be back on the air after a week's absence. Be sure to be around later tonight when Sing It Again returns with its Phantom Voice mystery and its riddle songs, which pay off in wonderful prizes. This is Roy Rowan speaking. Now, stay tuned for the case of the redheaded bank robber, tonight's gangbusters drama, which follows immediately over most of these same CBS stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
