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Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons, is on the air.
Ladies and gentlemen, the makers of Colono's Toothpaste present Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost
Persons, one of the most famous characters of American fiction and one of radio's most
thrilling dramas.
Tonight and every Thursday night from 7.30 to 8.00 Eastern War Time, the famous old investigator
will take from his files and bring to us one of his most celebrated missing persons cases.
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Now Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons.
Our story this time opens far from Mr. Keen's comfortable office in New York.
On a stormy night in the deep south, a night lashed by wind and rain.
A ramshackle old cab makes its way up a back road.
Over his shoulder, the old Negro driver talks to his two passengers, Mr. Keen and the latter's
assistant, Mike Clancy.
So y'all want me to drop you off at the Meade place?
Yes, driver.
That's what I said.
Will we soon be there?
In hardly a minute, boss.
Wouldn't get me to go visiting in there at night.
And why not?
Most unnatural folks in there, crazy folks.
The Saints preserve us.
All touched in the head and the heart.
Why do you say that?
You'll meet them, boy.
Here you are, gentlemen.
This guy's a good guy.
Quite a big place, all walled in.
I'll get out and ring the bell for you.
Thank you.
And I'll wait here till someone comes for the fetcher.
But I ain't going inside.
Driver, you wouldn't be superstitious, eh?
Oh, no, no, sir.
Just intelligent.
I was very intelligent about places where not to go.
No, Mr. Keenan, I just remembered something terribly important.
What's that, Mike?
Well, I got an appointment tonight to go bowling in New York.
Steady, Mike.
There comes somebody now.
It's a great game.
Big as a horse.
And a woman with him.
She's unlocking the gate.
Come on, Mike.
Let's get out.
On your responsibility, sir.
Driver, I believe this covers the fare.
Thank you, sir.
And good luck to you.
Good evening.
I suppose you're Mr. Keenan.
Yes, and this is my assistant, Mike Clancy.
I'm Dorothy Amid.
How do you do?
Please come in.
Sorry you had to make the trip in such weather, Mr. Keenan.
Not at all.
I'm much more troubled by what you had to say in your letter, Miss Mead.
Oh, yes, it's so disturbing about Uncle Adam.
Let's walk along the driveway, shall we?
We'll get some shelter from the trees.
Well, these are water oaks, I believe.
Mm-hmm.
Twelve altogether in a double row.
They're magnificent.
Yes, but they've been going to pieces lately.
There's the house on up ahead.
Oh, yes.
That's one of the most beautiful and majestic southern mansions I've ever seen.
But decaying like everything else around here.
Oh, be careful of that first step, Mr. Keenan.
It's loose.
I have it.
Just fasten Nero's leash to the post here.
Please come inside.
And just hang your coats and hats and those hooks there.
Thank you.
It's good to be an art of the rain.
Well, if you'll come across the hall now, we'll make ourselves comfortable in the library.
Stop!
Stop where you are!
Saints preserve us.
Turn around.
Get out of this house.
I'm not a man.
The top of the stairs.
You're not wanted here.
Get out.
Oh, now stop it, Cousin Roscoe.
You're being very rude.
I don't like strangers.
I hate them.
Go on back to your room, dear, and work on your plans.
Otherwise, you'll never capture Washington.
Oh, yes.
Washington, I'll move up reinforcements to the arm of the Potomac.
Don't fear.
See that I'm not disturbed.
Glory be.
Poor Roscoe is still fighting the war of the states, Mr. Keenan.
So it would seem.
Here, let's go into the library.
Of course.
Now if you'll just make yourselves comfortable.
Well now, Miss Dorothy, to get a few facts straight, this place belongs to your Uncle
Adam?
Yes, Mr. Keenan.
How old is he?
About 80.
And he disappeared just 10 days ago?
That's right.
That's why I want you to investigate.
Well, now, who are all the members of the household?
Well, I myself, I'm just visiting here.
Then there are two nephews and another niece.
You've just met one of the nephews, my cousin Roscoe.
I'll say.
Then there's also Roscoe's sister, Harriet.
Both about 50.
Yes.
Finally, there's my cousin, Herbert Mead.
About 40, very charming.
He lived for years in India.
Oh, did he?
Came back last year with wonderful gifts for all of us.
I believe he's enormously wealthy.
At any rate, that was the entire household, except for the servants.
Your uncle and two nieces and two nephews.
Now, tell me about the exact circumstance of his disappearance, Miss Dorothea.
Well, after dinner that night, Uncle Adam decided to go for a walk.
It was very dark, moonless, but quite mild.
He went by himself?
No, Nero trotted off with him, Mr. Keen.
Who was the last person to see him?
I was.
I went out after him to offer him a flashlight.
He said...
Nonsense, my dear.
I don't need it.
Oh, but it's so awfully dark, Uncle Adam.
I know every pebble around here by its first name.
Come along, Nero.
Let's go get some air.
And that was the last time you saw him, eh?
What about Nero?
We found Nero here the next morning, tied to a post.
We presumed that Uncle Adam had decided not to take him after all, or disappeared after
returning.
Did you start a search for him?
The very next morning, Mr. Keen.
The police went all over the grounds and no trace of him.
Then I decided to write to you.
I'm so terribly worried.
What could have happened to him, Mr. Keen?
It's much too early to start guessing, my dear.
Miss Dorif here, quite frankly, how did your uncle get along with the other members of
the household?
Well, he was something of a tease.
You see...
Oh, hello, Cousin Herbert.
Hello, Dorif here.
I understand Mr. Keen has arrived.
Yes, and this is his assistant, Mr. Clancy.
How do you do?
How do you do, Mr. Keen?
There's a dreadful business.
If there's any way I can help, Mr. Keen...
I may want to talk to you later, Mr. Meade.
Well, I'll be in my room.
Delighted to have met you, Mr. Keen.
Seems like a very pleasant sort.
Oh, he's a dear.
And about the only one that Uncle Adam never picked on.
Of course, Uncle Adam's been supporting Roscoe and Harriet for years as permanent guests.
But he could never let off a mind in Harriet about her age.
He'd say...
Harriet, my dear niece, sometimes I begin to think you'll never find a husband.
Be still, Uncle Adam.
I must admit, though, that I met a fellow the other day who's quite smitten with you,
Harriet.
Oh, oh, really?
Did you?
Miss Harriet, he said, isn't the flashy kind.
But for solid good looks, she can't be beat.
Oh, tell me, who said that?
Oh, a fellow in the old man's home.
I hate you, Uncle Adam.
I hate you.
That wasn't very kind.
But in money matters.
He was the very soul of generosity.
Here, look.
Inside the drawer of this table, Mr. Keen.
Hmm.
Simply stuffed with bills.
It was there for Roscoe and Harriet to use as they wished.
Interesting.
Boss, there's something very odd about the size of those bills.
Yes, this is the old-fashioned currency, Mike.
About 50% larger than what's issued nowadays.
That's one of my uncle's eccentricities.
He's kept a bale of cash in the bank vault for years, and he's still drawing on it.
I see.
Well, now, Miss Dorothea, beside the servants, was there anybody else around the grounds
about the time he disappeared?
Well, yes.
Uncle Adam had hired three or four men to work on the oaks.
That double row we saw as we came in, eh?
Yes.
And I can get you the names of all the men who worked here.
That can wait until morning.
Oh, yes, of course.
Let me show you to your rooms now.
Here you are, Mr. Keen.
Your room, Mr. Clancy, is the one down the hall there.
Thank you, Miss Dorothea.
I'll be one to talk a minute with the boss.
I'll find it later.
Everything's all laid out for you.
Good night.
Boss, what do you make of it?
Nothing yet.
Oh, this place gives me the creeps.
Oh, relax, Mike.
Oh, I get the feeling that eyes are on me all the time, and then that darn rainstorm.
Oh, I wish she hadn't put us off in this lonely old wing by ourselves.
Steady, Mike.
Go to sleep.
Well, I'll try to anyhow.
Good night, boss.
Good night.
Almost 11 o'clock.
It is a strange house and a strange family.
I wonder if that storm will clear by morning.
Must have a look around the grounds as soon as possible and see...
Great Scott.
It's Mike Clancy.
Somebody's turned off the whole light.
One moment, Mike, while I find the whole light.
There you are, lying in the floor.
Wait, Mike, wait.
I'll fasten it from your neck.
There we are.
Oh, St. Sprizzovs.
What was it?
A silk stocking drawn around your neck like a noose.
Glory be.
Tell me, what happened?
I don't know, boss.
I stepped out into the hall.
I started from the own room.
Suddenly the light went out and I was being chopped.
With a silk stocking?
Oh, there's no better use for silk stockings in times like these.
One second.
You notice anything about the color of this?
Well, it's dark sort of.
Gunmetal.
The same color that Dorothea Meade was wearing.
Oh, boss, I told you I should have went ballin' tonight in little old New York.
Good morning, Mr. Key.
Good morning.
You enjoying the view from the porch?
Yes, it's beautiful.
Thank heavens the storm has cleared.
Yes, it gave me the chance to look around the grounds.
Oh, did you find anything interesting?
Mm-hmm.
But on Mr. Clancy's neck.
Look at this.
A stocking?
But it looks like one of my own.
It was used last night in an attempt to choke Mr. Clancy.
Oh, dear God.
I wonder if you can explain.
Well, I'm afraid that I can.
I have several pairs like that.
When I went back to my room last night, Roscoe was coming out.
Oh, was he?
He said he'd been looking for some book and...
Oh, I know he has bits of temper, but I hate to believe he actually would try to...
Here he comes now, up the gravel path.
Ah, is that you, Keen?
Just the man I want to see.
Good.
I want to talk with you.
Tell me, Keen, if you were in a situation where your major forces were disposed along
the Potomac and Grant was moving along your flank...
Oh, Mr. Meade.
Oh, you think I'm a bit of a fool, don't you?
Well, look at these.
Dollar bills?
A dozen of them.
The old-fashioned size.
I've been investigating for a week, all on my own.
You know where they all turned up?
In the bar back in town.
The bartender told me.
I bought them all up.
Know why?
Well, why?
Because they'd all been spent there by Ben Matley.
Oh, who's he?
He's one of the men working on the grounds when my uncle disappeared.
Simple as could be.
Matley murdered Uncle Adam.
Well, that's very much worth looking into.
But what about this stocking, Mr. Meade?
Ever see it before?
Have you?
Of course.
I'm Dorothea's leg.
One moment, Mr. Meade.
I'm afraid I'll have to go after it.
Mr. Meade!
Stop where you are!
Mr. Keen, this is Cousin Harriet.
I don't want this man here.
Tell him to leave Rusco alone.
Cousin Harriet, if we're ever to find Uncle Adam.
Why him?
I don't much care if we do.
This seems to be a house of hate with motives on every side.
But Mr. Keen continues his search.
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Now back to Mr. Keen who is knocking on the door of a cottage near the Mead Estate.
Good morning.
Are you Ben Matley?
Sure enough.
Keen is my name.
Yeah.
I heard they was calling you from New York to find old Mr. Adam Mead.
Well, Matley, I'm going to ask you a very blunt question.
Yeah?
How do you come to have so many of those large-sized bills that Mr. Adam Mead always used?
Heck, I work for him for weeks on them trees.
You would seem to be spending more than your normal share.
Sure.
I'm good at poker and the other boys ain't.
Well, tell me, Matley, about the work you did in those water oaks.
Now, I gather that it consisted of hollowing out the rotted parts and filling them with
cement.
Yeah, sure enough.
And then were they finished?
Yep.
Couple of weeks ago today.
Before Mr. Mead disappeared?
Mm.
The day before.
Oh.
Sure had big holes in them.
Funny the way that rot gets in water oaks.
Holes big as a house, Mr. Keen.
Mm.
But it never affects black walnut trees that way, does it?
Hardly ever.
What he asked me for.
Why?
For an excellent reason.
We're ready for lunch, Mr. Keen.
Good, Miss Dorothea.
I've worked up quite an appetite with all my walking this morning.
Not this way.
The others are all waiting.
How do you do?
Oh, how mysterious.
Sir Clancy is sitting here by my side.
Will you sit next to Cousin Herbert, Mr. Keen?
I'll write it.
Any progress, Mr. Keen?
Progress?
Why, I believe...
Excuse me.
Oh, did you drop something on the floor?
Got a pebble in my shoe.
I'll have it out in a moment.
There we are.
You were saying, Mr. Keen.
Negative progress.
I mean that we can safely eliminate one theory.
And what is that?
If your uncle has been murdered, Miss Harriet, I don't believe it was for a legacy.
Why do you say that, Mr. Keen?
Because, Miss Dorifera, he has been made to disappear so completely.
I don't follow.
Not at all, Mr. Keen.
Assuming that he is dead, his will cannot be probated, nor can his estate be distributed
for at least five years.
You see, there must be proof of death through the finding of the body, or else under the
laws of the estate, five years must pass until he can be presumed to be legally dead.
I didn't know that.
Everybody knows that.
Be that as it may, Cousin Herbert.
Uncle Adam will turn up all right.
What makes you so sure, Miss Harriet?
Us bad, Penny always turns up.
Hello?
Somebody knocking?
Yes, I am Mr. Keen Herbert Meade.
Oh, come in.
Mr. Keen.
One moment, I'll switch on the bed lamp.
I'm sorry, Mr. Keen.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry to waken you.
It was my first chance to break away from the others.
What's the trouble?
I don't know whether Dorif here has been completely frank, Mr. Keen.
In what regard?
When Uncle Adam walked off that night, he wasn't alone.
Really?
I was looking out of the library window.
Down the path, Uncle Adam was joined by...
Well, family loyalty is a good thing, but...
Come, come, Mr. Meade.
The best way is to have it all come out now.
Maybe we could enter a plea of insanity for him.
For Roscoe, you mean?
You've seen one of his ragers, I believe.
Yes.
Uncle Adam always was ridiculing poor Roscoe's military campaigns.
But the body...
Mr. Keen, I know the grounds have already been searched once, but I noticed this morning
that the way Nero was mooning around in back of the house.
It's only a stab in the dark, but I...
Yes, go on.
Tomorrow, by daylight, we'll go there together.
All right.
First thing in the morning.
Good morning, Mr. Keen.
Good morning, Mike.
Huh, something on your mind, boss?
Well, Mike, yesterday at lunch I set a trap.
And?
Tell me about it.
There was no pebble in my shoe yesterday.
I was examining a trouser cuff.
I...
I don't follow you.
Come along, Mike.
We have an appointment this morning with Herbert Meade.
Maybe he's gone downstairs by now, Mr. Keen.
Maybe.
Let's try the door.
Okay.
Boss, boss.
Look at him there in the bed.
Blood all over his face.
Quick, let's get to him.
Mr. Meade.
Herbert, Herbert.
Oh, my nasty gash on his forehead, sir.
Herbert, can you hear me?
Boss.
He must be dead.
No.
He seems to be just barely breathing.
Mike, run downstairs.
Have somebody phone for a doctor.
Okay, boss.
What are you doing there, sir?
Having a look in the closet, Mike.
What for?
The killer?
No, just his trousers.
Well, we certainly had a fright, Mr. Keen.
What did the doctor say, Miss Dorothea?
Nasty cut for Cousin Herbert, but no fracture, fortunately.
Does Herbert have any idea who attacked him?
Just going back to discuss that with him now.
You coming with me, Mr. Keen?
As a matter of fact, I'll join you later, if you don't mind.
I want to have a look in your uncle's tool shed, if I may.
Of course anything, only we must find out once and for all who's responsible for all
these horrors in this house.
Oh, poor Herbert.
Don't you think you should stay in bed?
Don't worry, Dorothea.
I'll be all right.
And you have no idea who it was.
I was deep asleep.
Next thing, something came down on my head.
I remember the pain and nothing.
Oh, you could have been killed.
I wasn't hit with much force, the doctor said.
Dorothea, that makes me start wondering, perhaps...
Oh, no, no.
But Harriet is such a strange woman, always sulking, always taking Vasco's part.
Oh, Herbert.
May I come in?
Of course, Mr. Keen.
I see you're sitting up, Mr. Meade.
And he's new to Mr. Keen.
I'm afraid so, my dears.
Afraid?
What I mean is, you know that old black walnut tree out there in back?
You can just about see the top of it from that window.
Yes.
But what about it?
Well, just before your uncle's disappearance, some work was being done on the twelve oaks
out in front, wasn't it?
They had rotted.
Herbert, so?
And that's understandable.
But I find also that another tree was treated the same way, bored out and refilled with
cement.
That is very strange.
Why, Mr. Keen?
Black walnut doesn't usually decay like that.
Doesn't ordinarily require that sort of surgery.
A few minutes ago, I had that cement filling broken open.
Oh dear God, you mean...
Your uncle, Adam Meade, has been lying inside that tree for two weeks.
Dead.
Entombed in the black walnut by the person who killed him.
Who was that person?
The possibilities are numerous.
Somebody who was mentally unbalanced, possibly.
A thief, possibly.
You mean...
Or else a rather greedy and ruthless man who knew nothing about the laws of inheritance.
Who, who?
You, Herbert Meade.
What did you say, Mr. Keen?
Now we've got a third lunatic in the house.
But Keen, don't you realize that I was nearly killed here myself?
Nearly killed, yes.
You staged that attack yourself and hit yourself just hard enough to bring blood.
No words.
That's ridiculous.
But when you found me, I was completely unconscious.
Correct.
The answer is in this night table.
You see, a box of sleeping powders, half gone.
First you gassed yourself, then took a big dose of the sleeping powders, and then waited
for results.
Were you out of your mind?
You see, while you lay there unconscious, I didn't waste too much time in pity.
I looked in your closet, examined the cups of every pair of trousers you wear.
I don't understand.
In two of them I found granules of wood, of black walnut scrapies, in a third bits of
cement.
Oh, not just a moment.
While the men working on the oaks left their equipment around, you went out and worked
on the black walnut, making a tomb.
Then when it was ready, you went out in the dark after your uncle and strangled him.
Mom, thanks.
The same way you attacked my assistant later.
You see, you did not understand the laws of legacy served at me.
But when I mentioned it at the table yesterday, you realized you'd made a mistake.
You realized the body had to be found.
And you gave me hints to guide me.
You said Nero had been moving around in back.
Then my dear fellow, you really gave yourself away.
Stand back, King.
Both of you.
Got a pistol.
Careful, Meade.
Get in the closet, you two.
You won't get far, Meade.
I've already been in touch with the police.
Stop that pistol, Meade.
I've got you covered.
Thank you, sir.
That was well done.
I heard every word of it.
I arrest you, Herbert Meade, for the murder of your uncle, Ed Meade.
Well, the train's on time, Mike.
We'll soon be getting into Pennsylvania Station.
And sure, why didn't I tell me, old lady, just how close she came to losing her precious
Michael Clancy.
Boy, oh, boy.
But, boss, I wonder what on earth you'd ever do if you didn't happen to know about things
like black walnut trees and the laws of inheritance.
What would I do, Mike?
I wouldn't be a detective.
And so ends the case of the moonless night.
Listen next week at the same time as Mr. Keen brings us the bizarre and baffling case of
the missing witness.
To help bring out the gleaming natural brightness of your teeth, remove common surface stains
by brushing them with a new colonose, a high-polishing toothpaste.
Colonose acts like a jewelous polish in removing tarnish from silver.
It quickly removes surface stains and helps make your teeth and smile look their dazzling,
romantic best.
Try the new colonose toothpaste tonight.
You have just been listening to Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons.
Now on the air at a new time, every Thursday night, 730 to 8 Eastern wartime over this
network.
Don't miss Mr. Keen next Thursday night when the kindly old Tracer turns to the case of
the missing witness.
And now one closing thought.
Many of you listening in have signed the Homefront Pledge, a pledge made by 15 million Americans
in the past year to pay no more than top legal prices and accept no rationed goods without
rationed points.
If all of us will do these two simple things, we will soon wipe out the black market, cut
down the cost of living, and ensure a fair share of food for the wives and families of
our fighting men and millions of others living on fixed income.
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