Sam Spade

Well, I'm not surprised.

You'd better hurry over here.

Right away.

He's threatening violence.

You really think you can make that stick?

Mr. Spade, I'm sure I can.

Dirty words and foul implications were forming on my trembling lips.

But he had letters from his niece to one Sam, a great, big, beautiful detective.

And I had the jewels and...

Before the night was over, Sergeant Walt, you had me.

Booked, bothered, and bewildered.

What bewildered me was how to raise a $2,500 bail.

Sam Spade, innocent dope.

The United States Armed Forces Radio Service is presenting the weekly adventure of Dashiell Hammett's famous private detective, Sam Spade.

Up the times was my breakfast of rude prison fare.

They didn't serve any rye crisps, but what they did serve was even less fattening.

I thrust my emaciated arms through the bars of my cell and clawed at the lapels of a passing bondsman and begged him for sucker.

He says I didn't need any because I was it.

I hurled him aside and sat down to think.

About ten years, Sergeant Walt, told still in front of myself.