Sam Spade

Mr. Smith was evidently not home.

The lady manager in the apartment next to his was, and after the usual license showing and more than the usual sweet talk, she came up with the keys.

Biddle wasn't wealthy, but he wasn't hungry either.

The place had the well-fixed man-about-town look, right down to the last crystal martini glass in the portable bar in the living room.

Next to it was a mahogany desk, in which were sundry checkbooks and deposit slips indicating Biddle had found a prosperous widow or had been doing rather well at Canasta.

A clock shined four in the next room.

Since it was after ten, I wondered why I went in to take a look.

Maybe I was psychic, like the girl said.

There was a tape recorder against one wall, the same kind I'd seen in your office, Tracy, with a microphone and a roll of tape in it, half used up.

Holding the microphone with one hand was Jimmy Biddle, and the other hand, a .38.

He wasn't hurt, as I'd told her.

He was dead.

You are listening to the weekly adventure of radio's most famous detective, Sam Spade.

This Sunday, there's another outstanding production by Theatre Guild on the air.

It's a one-hour adaptation of the thrilling tale of intrigue in post-war Vienna, The Third Man.

Joseph Cotton and Sena Hasso star in this Theater Guild on-the-air broadcast.

And Sunday over most of these NBC stations also means The Big Show, an hour and a half of the finest in comedy, music, and drama.

Tallulah will be your hostess, and just listen to a few of the stars.

Fred Allen, Marlene Dietrich, Danny Thomas, and Fran Warren.

There'll be many more, too, so tune in this Sunday and every Sunday for The Big Show.