Would you hand me that, please?
Thank you.
Now, let's see.
Survey, survive,
Susanna, suspect.
Ah, here we are.
Suspense,
meaning held in doubt,
expressing doubt, the state of being
uncertain, undecided, or insecure.
State of anxious
expectation, or waiting for information,
such as
to keep one in suspense,
therefore delay acquainting him
with what he is eager to know.
Suspense!
An hour of suspense now,
a full sixty minutes at this time,
and with the distinguished actor-director
Robert Montgomery as your host.
Tonight our star is Howard Duff,
famous wherever radio is heard
as Sam Spade, detective.
And as Spade, he will appear
in The Candy Tooth,
a suspense play produced, edited,
and directed by William Spear.
This is Robert Montgomery.
My pleasure and privilege it is
to be here during this hour each week
as a sort of guide,
philosopher, and fiend.
An accessory before and after the facts
of crime and punishment, which calculatedly
fill our minutes with suspense.
This evening, before we chat a little
about the private life of America's
favorite private eye, let me on
behalf of Mr. Spear and all of us, thank you
sincerely for your wonderful letters and telegrams,
expressing appreciation and
interest in this new full hour
presentation. It's wonderful
fun to have sixty minutes to play with in
radio drama. In our new double
strength king-size format,
we plan to bring you radio plays based
on complete novels and on theatrical productions
and pictures. Many of the
best writers of this literature, James M.
Kane, Dashiell Hammett,
Raymond Chandler, Graham Greene,
Eric Ambler, and Agatha Christie, have
been happiest with a more spacious canvas
upon which to display their characters
of passion and purpose.
With a full hour for our theater of thrills,
we can give these authors a full stage
on which to have their people play out
their lusts and desires, their
temptations and frustrations,
their frantic fears and villainous triumphs,
their descent into black
and terror-laden bewilderment.
Sometimes we find ourselves
locked in the tortured brain of the
scheming criminal. At other times,
we know the dread of the hunted
and hapless victim. But always
the basic ingredient of suspense
is not mechanical gadgetry,
not the detectable piecing out
of fingerprints and convenient clues.
But always the basic ingredient
is people,
for people give us emotion,
and emotion marks the high drama
that cold logic can never achieve.
Nowhere will you find
stranger people, motives and situations
than those that pass through the door
of a little office in San Francisco's
Post Street. The lettering on the
door reads, Samuel Spade,
Private Investigations.
Once it read Spade and Archer,
but that was before Miles Archer stopped
a bullet and plunged Sam Spade
into the greatest detective adventure of modern
times, the search for the Maltese
Falcon. It was literally a
shot heard round the world, for it
brought into prominence the name of Dashiell Hammett
and the so-called Hardboiled
School of Crime Detection.
Since then, the fictional private eye
has become a national institution.
But Sam Spade still rules the roost.
In book sales, in motion pictures,
the Maltese Falcon has been filmed
four times now. And now
on the air, every Sunday night,
in the adventures of Sam Spade,
starring Howard Duff and produced
by our very own Bill Spear.
It's a great pleasure for me to introduce
to our suspense audience now
a young star from my home lot,
Universal International, in the
role with which he has become so closely
identified that most of his fan mail
is addressed to Sam Spade.
Howard Duff. Thanks, Bob.
I'd like to go on record right now as saying
that any checks I may sign with the name
Sam Spade will be accepted at your own risk.
The detective business has been
pretty good lately, I hear. How much
did Sam make during 1947?
Uh, F he would know.
But no matter how much it was, it won't change
Sam. He'll still do business
at the same old stand in a rickety
office building on Post Strait where the
elevator seldom ever works and the janitor
never ever works. As a matter of fact,
I got into my Philip Marlowe pants this morning
and did little Spade work on Spade myself.
Don't stop me if I'm wrong, but
here are some of the facts. F-A-X,
facts. The way I dug them up.
Age? Nobody talked.
History?
Mysterious, but was probably a Pinkerton man
to start with. Height?
Six feet in a small chunk. Weight?
Enough muscle to go with his height. Hair?
Dim out blonde. Eyes?
Yellow gray. Unmarried.
Lives alone in a small
furnished apartment within walking distance
of his office. Is economical to the point
of, uh, well never takes a cab
where street cars can get and has been
known to walk where they can't get.
Secretary? F.E. Perrine.
The only person who really knows what makes
Sam tick when he wants her to.
Otherwise he's a lonely man
who trusts no one, lives alone,
and loves alone, and expects others
to like it. Have I left anything out?
Well, nothing you left out, Bob.
Something you put in. It's not true that I
don't trust anybody. I trust everybody.
All my clients are honest until I prove
otherwise. Maybe that's what's kept you in the private
eye business all these years. That and
the strong hatred that I have. Hatred?
Yeah, for time clocks and the hours
between nine and five. That's why I went
into business for myself and that's what keeps me there.
Then you regard it as a business, Sam,
and not as an adventure. Well, when you break an arm
in an adventure, the cost of setting it is not
tax deductible. In a business it is.
Yes, I see.
How many cases have you had? And do you think
all private dicks are clever?
Well, I've had so many cases I can't
remember them all. About
being clever, I once knew an operative who
was looking for pickpockets at
Santa Anita race track had his wallet stolen.
He later became a lieutenant
at the Techers in Glendale. Sam, tell me, what was
the most surprising thing that ever happened to you?
The most surprising thing that ever happened
to me was in 1936 in
Washington, D.C. I met a young
lady on a bus who did not remark that my
work must be very interesting. Well, that's very
interesting. Thanks a lot.
But I guess my most
exciting caper since the Maltese
Falcon was the hugger-mugger
over the candy tooth.
Usually when I wind a caper I call
Effie just to let her know I'm okay
before I hustle down to the office to dictate my
report to the client. But this time
it was 4.30 in the morning before I could
get to her phone. The reason was
that I was in jail.
Music
Music
Music
Music
Music
Music
Sounds Bay Detective Agency. Wake
up, Angel. You're home in bed, not at the office.
Huh?
Sam, is that you, Sam? Mm-hmm.
What time is it?
4.30 in the morning. Are you up already?
Effie, pull yourself together. Get dressed.
Hustle down to the city jail.
Sam, what happened? Well, that's what I gotta get on the record
now while I'm still alive to do it.
Grab a taxi and hustle on down. Bring a book,
pencils, the encyclopedia that has the
letter K in it and any old $20,000
you got laying around. Sam,
where am I gonna get pencils at this hour?
Oh, Sam.
Sam, I hurried just as fast as I could.
There was no taxi around.
What are you doing in jail? My apartment
is being redecorated. Did you bring your book?
Of course I did. And pencils, too.
But you're here on a murder chart, Sam.
Whatever could have happened to you. Take it down, Effie.
But Sam, what did you do? The San Francisco Homicide
Bureau, attention Detective Lieutenant Dundee.
Date, uh, fill it in.
From Samuel Spade, license number
137596. Subject,
the Candy Tooth Caper.
Dear Dundee,
I don't know all the answers, not yet.
What I do know is going down on paper
while I'm still alive to get it there.
Oh, Sam. The scenario runs
something like this. This morning
a telegram came to my office.
It was addressed to Samuel Spade
Esquire and it was signed
Casper Gutman.
Gutman, the Fat Man.
So far as I knew, Dundee, when you closed
your books on the Maltese Falcon Capers
seven years ago, Gutman was ended as dead.
First I
thought the telegram was somebody's idea of a joke.
But when I read it through
the second time, I knew it was no joke.
There's nobody else who thinks
or talks or writes like Casper
Gutman. My dear Mr. Spade,
you will no doubt receive
with mixed emotions the news of my
imminent reappearance in the city of the Golden Gate.
Hence the companion dispatch
of a telegraphic draft and the amount of
one thousand dollars, which you are
free to convert into coin of the realm.
This trifling sum, sir, is merely
a token of my esteem for a man of many
resources and nice judgments.
And for it I do not require
any specific service.
However, if you feel so disposed, sir,
you are free to accept my considered advice
in the matter of an invidious pair
of rogues. To wit,
one Lawrence Laverne, DDS,
and or Hope Laverne,
whose charms and aliases
are far too myriad to enumerate in this
necessarily abbreviated communication.
Should either or both of these persons
approach you, beware the
hidden tooth. Believe me, sir,
they are untruthful, unreliable
and totally devoid of all moral sensibilities.
I count upon you to make
no commitments to them or anyone else
until you have heard my proposition.
This I hope to lay before you when I
arrive in San Francisco this very
evening. Dear Joel, sense
regards. I remain your obedient servant
Caspar Gutman.
Caspar
Gutman
The Fat Man
Caspar Gutman, the Fat Man.
I know, Dundee, you figured
I didn't get hurt much the last time I
tangled with Gutman over the Maltese Falcon.
But that's because you didn't know Bridget
O'Shaughnessy as well as I did, as
well or as warmly.
Well, I figured if Gutman was still in the
land of the living, let him come.
This time I wasn't going to get hurt in
any way. There couldn't be two Bridgets.
Nevertheless, I ate
a can of spinach, which I found on Effie's desk,
then I sat down again, facing the
door. Nothing much happened
for almost ten minutes.
I was still trying to dig the meaning out of
Gutman's double talk, and I'd gotten about as far
as his warning about a hidden tooth
when Effie ushered a man
into my office. Mr. Spade!
Well,
well I must say that you are indeed a pleasant
surprise, but pleasant.
You've said it, what can I do for you? My name
is Laverne, Lowry
Lawrence Laverne. How do you do?
I shall spare you the tasks and details
and plunge right into the problem.
Oh dear.
At the Hotel Royal George, there
is a mildewed creedoon, but
mildewed, registered as Mr.
Herman Julius. Oh,
a really frightful person. Very frightful, huh?
Oh, the kiss of death department.
The only thing about this creature that has
any charm is a
four toothed lower bridge in his right jaw.
Now Mr. Spade,
I want you to get that bridge for me.
I'm sorry, it sounds as though you're saying
I want you to get that bridge for me. Precisely.
Why?
Because he refuses to pay me for it.
You're a dentist?
I prefer to regard myself as a
dentist sculpturer. I
created this bridge for Mr. Julius with
infinite pains, and now
he refuses to pay me.
I ask payment and he accuses me of acting
without charm. Mr. Julius wouldn't happen
to be a very large, fat man.
Oh, contraire.
Skin and bones.
Well, Mr. Spade?
I'm afraid you've come to the wrong man, Mr. Laverne.
What you want is a lawyer to sue him.
Sue him? Months
of legal wrangling? Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no, no. I intend
to be vindictive about this. I am by
nature a very gracious and charming person.
But now, now
let him beware. I
shall have that bridge from Herman Julius
even if you must knock him down and
wrench it from his jaw. Uh-huh. You tried
knocking him down yourself? Oh, I
could never even bring myself to
perform extractions. I always
send those patients to less sensitive
dentists. Yeah, well, I'm afraid you'll have to find
yourself a less sensitive private detective.
Oh, oh dear.
Well, Mr. Spade, what would you advise me to do?
I, uh... Mr. Laverne, I would advise you
to get out of California before Walt
Disney sees you.
Well, well, good day, sir.
Hmm. I would like
very much to have you in my chair some
day. Oh,
might teach you some manners.
Hmm-hmm.
Hmm-hmm.
Beware of the hidden truth.
Hmm-hmm.
Hello.
Hello.
Please sit down, Miss...
Thank you. Laverne.
Hope Laverne. Miss Laverne?
Yes.
What can I do for you?
Well, I'm, uh,
I'm looking for my brother.
Missing? Well, yes, yes, and no.
I mean, he's been gone since yesterday and I'm
terribly afraid he'll get into trouble.
Oh? What kind of trouble?
Well, you see, it, it...
Well, it just isn't easy for me to talk about this,
Mr. Spade. Well, now, Miss Laverne, suppose
you just lean back in that chair, close your
eyes, and... Yes, thank you.
Yes, it's...
It's easier like this. Hmm-hmm. What's it like?
My brother's name is, uh, Lawrence. He's a man
of 52. He's, uh, he's not well.
I mean, he gets spells and he acts
peculiarly. He suffered a nervous
breakdown some years ago and he spent most of his
life in sanitariums. Where are you from, Miss
Laverne? Kansas City. During the past
year, uh, Larry was in a rest home
in Palo Alto and I
arrived two days ago to take him home
yesterday morning. He...
Well, I don't know how it happened, but he's gone.
These, uh, spells you
mentioned, what are they like? Oh, well,
he assumes different personalities.
His favorite seems to be that of a dentist.
He becomes obsessed by the thought that
he's done some work, a bridge or something,
for someone who refuses to pay him.
He'll walk up to a perfect
stranger and create a scene.
He's been arrested a few times, nothing serious, public
nuisance. Mr. Spade,
I'm afraid that he'll be, he'll be put away
if he's arrested once more. I see,
and you want me to look for him.
Then he hasn't been here. Why
did you think he'd come here? Oh, that's
another one of his tactics. He goes to a private detective,
hires him to either follow a
man or get back the work he thinks he's done.
Dental work, you know.
But what made you think he'd come to me?
Oh, well, not you, particularly. But since yesterday,
I've tried almost every private detective
in San Francisco. No one has seen him.
Who'd you talk to?
I beg your pardon? These private detectives,
who'd you see? Oh,
well,
there was a man named Graham
and one named Marlow,
Philip Marlow. Excuse me.
Would you like a drink?
No.
Thank you.
Marlow speaking.
That's Spade, Phil.
Hiya, Sam. Phil, you got
a rumble on a missing brother named
Larry Laverne? Yeah, yeah.
Gal was in early this morning.
Brother's some kind of a screwball.
You meet him? No, no, hasn't been
around yet. Ah, thanks,
Phil. See ya.
Why did you do that, Mr. Spade?
It's doing things like that that
kept me alive and in business all these
years. That was Marlow.
Your brother hasn't been to him.
I told you that. But your brother has been here.
When? A few minutes
before you came in. Can't see
how you missed him. What did he tell you, Mr. Spade?
Pretty much as you outlined it. About the dental
work and some man owing him money.
Yeah, some man named Julius.
Herman Julius, he said. You know him?
I never heard of him. He's
probably just another figment of Larry's imagination.
Mr. Spade, I'm
terribly worried about Larry. I got that
impression. Will you try to find
him for me? Can you give me any idea
where I might start looking? Well, I
think I know how Larry's mind
works when he's in the midst of one of these spells.
If you find this Mr.
Julius, you'll probably find Larry
close by. So you want me to
find Mr. Julius first? Oh, well I
only thought it would be simpler checking on this Mr. Julius
movements than on Larry's
unpredictable whims, you see.
I...
Don't you think that makes
good sense, Mr. Spade?
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Spade
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Spade
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Spade
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Spade
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Spade
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Mr.
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Spade
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Mr.
Mr.
Mr.
Mr.
Mr.
Julius
Mr.
Jesus
Jesus
Jesus
Jesus
Jesus
Jesus
Jesus
Jesus
Jesse
Jesse
Jesus
Jesus
Here's his room.
Mr. Julius!
Mr. Julius!
Mr. Julius, you sick in there?
They drink some of them.
Then they don't cook in their rooms.
They drink, get DT's some of them.
I'll go on in and get him.
I don't want no part of it.
Oh, they stink.
I didn't see who it was right away.
His face was the color and consistency of crushed strawberries.
I helped him up and over to the wash basin in the corner of the room.
With his face washed, he looked a little better, but he still looked like Larry Laverne.
Oh, am I ever glad to see you.
I thought it was them coming back to kill me.
Did you find Julius?
No, no. Got away with the wretch.
Down the fire escape as I came in.
Who did this to you? A big fat man?
To tell the honest truth, Mr. Spade, I never even got a good look at him.
He was all over me before I even had a...
Who's Julius? What's in his bridge work?
Oh, I'll tell you everything, everything, but please, first, let's get out of this horrid room.
Ugh, it smells like cavy.
Larry Laverne was tougher than he looked.
After the going over he'd gotten, you or I would have been hospital bound, Dundee.
But he did a late take.
We were on the way back to his hotel, walking toward market.
When he crumpled in the middle like a sack of flour,
I grabbed him and held him upright, looked wildly around for somewhere to park him.
We were standing in front of a newsreel theater.
I bought two tickets and piloted him inside.
We sat down.
I undid his clutch in my arm and concentrated on the screen.
The subject that followed the football game was some big Oriental celebration somewhere in India or someplace.
A very fancy parade with white elephants, lark, and all the rest of the world.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
Oh, please.
I can't stand this.
Help me. Take me out of here.
I can't stand it, Uncle Mel. I tell you, sock-raping men.
Take it easy. You're annoying the customers.
You brought me in here on purpose. You're trying to drive me crazy, but crazy.
Listen to me. If one more elephant walks across that screen...
If that man says that one word, can he just once more?
I won't be responsible. I tell you, I won't be responsible.
All right, Larry. This is the end, but the end.
Oh, you got me to it. Come on, let's get out of here.
An impressive ceremony, indeed.
I promise you, Mr. Spade, all I need is just one night's sleep and I'll be a new man.
Yeah.
I haven't even dared to take 40 winks since I arrived in this town for fear those monsters might murder me in my bed.
Yeah, yeah, I know. It's tough.
Sit down.
So this is your apartment?
That's what I laughingly call it. Living room, bedroom, ice box.
Here, have a drink. Me, too.
Oh, thanks.
Oh. Oh, did I ever need that.
Drop yourself to the bottle.
I don't touch alcohol as a rule, but after what I've been through...
Well, now drink all you like. You deserve it.
Oh, thank you.
Well, I hardly know where to begin. It's all so strange.
And there I was in Lisbon, Mr. Spade, the only English-speaking Dennis worthy of the name in the entire diplomatic colony.
Well, you must have read in the papers about Dom Constantino's tomb being violated. It was the scandal of the season.
Oh, it's all so horrible, Mr. Spade. I just can't talk about it.
Here, here, here. Try a little more of this. Settles the nerves.
Oh, I just don't know how I can ever thank you.
Ever since I hit this burg, I've been feeling like the forgotten...
Pardon. Man.
Yeah, you were saying something about a tomb being broken into. In Portugal, this was?
Yes. Well, you know, the draft board just took one look at me.
I know what you mean.
So I just stayed on in Lisbon. Well, you know how people gossip, having patience of all nationalities and all that.
Yeah, yeah, I get it. Between the Nazis and the Allies, you were quite a social lion.
Oh, now, wait a minute. Don't get the idea I was a spy. Oh, no.
But sometimes people had things that could be hidden in a hollow tooth and like that, you know, bridge work, you know.
I think I told you I'm not so much a dentist as a dental artist.
Mm-hmm.
Well, that fat Mr. Gutman brought me this tooth, you see.
Gutman?
Yes, yes. Mr. G and that Joel Cairo person that was with him.
Well, they brought me this tooth. Oh, a horrid yellow old thing. Practically a fang.
They wanted to put in Mr. Julius Bridge. Paid me a thousand pounds. Can you imagine?
Then when I learned what they had done, well, it made me positively ill.
This practically sacred old tomb in the cathedral they'd broken in and literally torn out a piece of his job on.
Whose?
Why, Dom Constantino's.
And who's Dom Constantino?
Ah, the Portuguese viceroy. It didn't hurt him any. He's been dead 500 years if he stayed a day.
Oh dear. I'm as tired as a tick. This liquor is getting to me.
And it was. I thought he'd open up some more, but I overplayed the bourbon.
Half a bottle later, he passed out. I flopped on the sofa and tried to get some sleep for myself.
But my dreams kept getting in the way. I had newsreel dreams in Technicolor.
I dreamed that a white elephant with a face like Casper Gutman was leading a parade down Market Street.
The howdah that was strapped to his back looked like a dentist's chair.
Herman Julius was sitting in it, but this face seemed to be blanked out.
Joel Cairo wearing a surgeon's gown and a turban was drilling Julius' tooth.
The crowds were throwing diamonds and rubies from the peanut bags they were carrying, and Gutman vacuumed them up with his trunk.
That was when the bells started ringing in the Buddhist temple that had been built on top of the Mark Hopkins.
Yeah.
Mr. Spade.
Yeah?
Mr. Spade, I need your help.
Who's this?
Hope Laverne, please, Mr. Spade. I'm terrified.
Where are you?
I'm in a drugstore at 5th and Mission.
You're the bus depot?
Yes, please. Come at once, Mr. Spade.
But can't you come here?
I can't. I don't dare go into the streets.
All right. Wait there. I'm on my way.
I took a quick gander at Laverne, saw he was still out cold, slipped into my topcoat and left the apartment.
I figured it would take me 11 minutes to hustle over to 5th and Mission.
But I never got any further than 50 yards from the front of my building.
I sensed him behind me, wheeled suddenly, bumped him into a doorway, held the thumbs of his hands, gripped tightly in my fist.
Stand still or I'll tear him off.
Let go. I'll kill you.
Don't move and it won't hurt.
You filthy beast.
The boy twisted suddenly and violently and I heard the crack of his left thumb breaking.
He swallowed his scream, dashed onto the deserted street.
I went after him, turned to the alley and caught the butt of a gun behind my right ear.
I don't know how long I was out, but I do know I came to at least 3 hours too soon.
I needed much more rest.
I opened my eyes, steady the swaying ceiling and then I heard his voice.
Well sir, this is indeed a jolly reunion.
It couldn't be, but it was.
Casper Gutman, the fat man of the Maltese Falcon Caper.
Looking at the unholy trio there in the room, Joel Cairo, the little Leventine, still as oily and smiling as ever and still fragrant.
Marvin, a sullen, white-faced, hollow-eyed youth as near Wilmer's double as anyone will ever see.
And Gutman, spruces ever in his black cutaway coat, black vest and gray stripe trousers.
You'd have thought nothing had happened since then, not even the war.
The grayness at Cairo's temples only made his baby face look more babyish.
And about Gutman, nothing was different except his watch chain.
A curious jewel-encrusted ornament dangled from it, shaped like a claw.
You seem surprised to see me, sir. No wonder. It's always disconcerting to encounter a ghost, especially such a substantial ghost.
A lot of water has gone under the bridge since last we met, eh?
Under the bridge?
Yes, which brings us to the subject at hand, the bridge.
My headaches. What about the bridge?
First we'll talk a bit. After all, this is quite an occasion, sir. Reunion of old friends, eh, Mr. Spade?
Yeah. Tell me, did you ever find the falcon, if you'll excuse the expression?
Oh. Your eyes are resting on all that remains of that fabulous bird, sir.
Yes, that trinket on his watch chain, all the remains of the Maltese falcon.
Well, mark you, sir, what part of it survived, the claw.
You believe in omens? Right now I'm ready to believe almost anything.
Indeed, sir. Well, no need for dissembling. We're old and wise, I trust, and in the days of the falcon.
Suffice it to say, the unsavory and bloated object which the police dredged up from San Francisco Bay and identified as myself was some other poor soul.
Wilmer, I am happy to say, remembered the debt of gratitude he owed me, and at the last moment agreed to be a party to the very necessary little deception.
That is, since they had him cold, as you detectives say, for the other killings, he might as well confess to murdering me.
He did so in exchange for my agreement to take care of his family in a financial way. An investment, by the way, which has paid rich dividends.
How's that? Oh, indeed. Well, thanks to it, I now have Marvin, Wilmer's younger brother.
I thought I noticed a family resembling him. Oh, shut up!
Oh, yes, yes, poor Wilmer. He was like a son to me, like a son.
It didn't stop you from making him a patsy. I detest killing Mr. Spade. I cautioned Wilmer time and again. He was so headstrong. Oh, mere boy.
You'd better caution this punk or he won't last to take any raps for you.
Oh, break his head, Wilmer. No, Marvin, Marvin.
That dirty shamus lays another hand on me. I'll kill him.
No, no, Marvin, Marvin. Take Marvin to the other room. Explain to him that Mr. Spade and I are very old friends.
Casper knows best, Marvin. Come, we know. And now, no nonsense, you two now.
Someday I'll kill him. I'll kill him. Casper will be angry.
Oh, dear. Hot-headed runs in that family.
Yeah. Well, let's have it, Gutman. What are you after this time?
My dear boy, you misjudged me. It's true I had Marvin check up on you, but only because of your association with Miss Laverne.
Oh, no, no, no, no matter now. I'm weary of the chase. All the way from Candy, I...
What did the girl tell you?
She asked me to find her brother, a dentist named Laverne.
You believed her story? No.
Most unscrupulous woman. No veracity, no regard for truth whatsoever.
Her true motive? Merely to make trouble for me and my friends because of her association with Kemedov.
Aye, the Russian's hand again, Mr. Spade.
Kemedov? Did I ever meet Kemedov?
You would hardly forget if you had. In short, here is my proposition.
Another thousand dollars, coin of the realm, sir, for which you will refund whatever money Miss Laverne gave you and send her packing.
The bidding starts at 10,000.
Oh, you drive a hard bargain, Mr. Spade. Very well. I'll meet your turn.
I told you the bidding starts there.
And where does it stop?
Half or whatever the caper nets you. I deliver Julius, you do the rest.
Between you and me, Mr. Spade, I'm not as air-fluent as I once was.
The Falcon pretty well wiped me out financially.
Considering the time and money I've already invested in trying to track down the weasel of Julius...
What's in Julius' bridge work?
And if I don't choose to tell you?
Then it's no dice.
Take it over, Gutman. Either I'm in all the way for half or I deliver Julius to the other outfit.
And that is your final dictum, sir?
Take it or leave it. Either you're in or you're out.
Good night, Mr. Spade. I trust you will call me on the telephone when you reach your dig-ins and tell me that you've changed your mind.
No heart-feelings.
The fog was clearing and only a few white wisps of it were clinging to Twin Peaks when I walked home that morning.
It was too late to worry about hope.
I heard a chief phone for Gutman to decoy me out so that I started walking faster.
As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, I heard a door open on the landing...
and the slot of light that stabbed out from it showed me it was my door.
The light came from behind whoever had opened it and I couldn't see who it was at first, only that it was not Larry Laverne.
I took the last flight four steps at a time.
Hello, Sam.
Dundee. What's happened?
Come in and see for yourself.
When I saw for myself, I wished somebody else had seen for me.
Hysterical Larry was lying on his back on my bedroom floor.
His eyes were wide open and he had a crooked grin on his face.
A very crooked grin.
Whoever had killed him had wrenched his jaw out of place.
I'm not saying you killed him, Sam. I'm only asking you who did.
Don't be a child, Dundee.
Why was he killed?
No statement.
What was he doing here? Who was he?
The name he gave was Laverne. I let him flop here because he was afraid to go home.
Afraid of who?
A man named Caspar Gutman.
What?
Yeah, Gutman.
Quit stalling, Sam. Gutman's dead and you know it.
You bury him, Dundee?
I believe you mean it.
Where Gutman's concerned, it doesn't pay to kid around.
What's the after now?
The bridge work out of a man's mouth. The man's name is Julius.
What's in this Julius bridge work? Maltese Falcon?
Something like that.
I'm sorry, Sam. It's not good enough. I'll have to take you in.
So you took me and you booked me.
The bail was set at $20,000. You saw to that.
You figure there's only one operator who'd put up that kind of money to spring me, and that's Caspar Gutman.
I hope you're right. Period. And the first part, at least, of sob story.
But Sam, what is in Herman Julius' bridge work?
Well, Laverne told me it was a tooth Gutman stole out of a skeleton in an old Portuguese catacomb.
What's so valuable about that?
I don't know.
Could be a jewel inside of it?
It's not Gutman's kind of game.
Besides, the thing that made poor Laverne blow his top in that newsreel theater was something more like an elephant tusk.
Where's that encyclopedia? Did you bring it?
Oh, yes, I did, Sam. Yes, I did. Wasn't I smart?
Look it up.
Look what up?
Candy with a K.
Oh, um, K, ca, pan. Oh, here it is. Candy. K. Isn't that funny?
City. Capital of central province of Ceylon, located near the center of the island north of...
Spare me the geography.
Well, the railroad from Colombo, noted for its waterfalls and stuff and stuff and stuff.
Yeah, yeah.
That is, the city surrounds an artificial lake and is sacred to Buddhas for its temple of Maligawa, which enshrines the tooth of Buddha, brought according to legend...
What? Let me see that.
Don't grab.
Let me see. It's sacred to the Buddhas for its temple of Maligawa, which enshrines it.
Effie.
What's the matter, Sam?
The tooth of Buddha.
Sam, you don't think that's what's in Herman Julius' bridge work?
If it was, Gutman would be after him.
But how did he get to Portugal?
If it did, Gutman's the man that could track it down.
Sam, you sure of that?
No, Angel. No. The only thing I am sure of is this. When the Maltese Falcon laid an egg, it hatched a flock of vultures and they're all circling right around my head.
Well, cheer up, Sam. You won't be in jail long. I'll bring you a cake with a file in it.
Angel.
No. Devil food.
In tonight's full hour of suspense, Howard Duff, our star, appears as Sam Spade with Joseph Kearns as Casper Gutman in William Spear's production of The Candy Tooth.
Tonight's study in suspense.
In just a moment, we will return with the second half of The Candy Tooth.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
And now, back to our Hollywood soundstage and Robert Montgomery.
At the point at which we interrupted Sam Spade's narrative just now, things were at a pretty pass.
A pretty pass, indeed.
A pretty pass. Sam wound up with the body of the dentist, Larry Laverne, in his apartment. The girl, Hope, waiting for him in the bus station.
Casper Gutman, the fat man, waiting for an answer to his ultimatum that Spade produce the tooth or else.
Me in city prison under $20,000 bail and the fabulous Candy Tooth still chomping on two-bit hamburgers in the bridge work of a very elusive man named Herman Julius.
Yes. And?
Well, after I dictated my report to Effie on what had happened until then, she left and I laid down to think.
Lieutenant Dundee and I had agreed that I should spend the night in the pokey.
He figured that the 20-g bail would draw only one man to put up that much mule out of spring me, Casper Gutman.
Along about nine in the a.m., the turnkey unlocked the door on my cell. I followed him out to the desk.
The 20,000 bucks were there, but no sign of benefactor, benefactress, or samaritan of any type. The bond was in my name.
I signed my release and walked out.
Across the street was parked a long black limousine with a curtain strong. I started for it when a voice at my elbow checked me.
You're St. George Spade?
Si.
I'm Don Constantino de Braganza, his eye who had put up the 20,000 dollar.
Is that so? Well, thank you. Now, why?
I desire a service. My card's in her.
Don Constantino de... Wait a minute.
She seems to know the name.
Yeah, yeah. For a guy who's been dead 500 years, you don't look too bad.
Thank you. You are referring, of course, to my illustrious ancestor, Don Constantino, the first Portuguese viceroy of India, who indeed had been dead since the 16th century.
It is on his behalf I speak to you now.
What can I do for him?
Restore the tooth which was wrenched from his skull by a pack of unspeakable ghouls who violated his tomb in Lisboa.
You think they're in San Francisco?
Let us not be naive, senor. The contemptible little dentist, Laverne, was killed in your apartment. Therefore, you must know the whereabouts of the other ghouls.
I know so many ghouls, senor. You'll have to be more specific.
I refer to a fat pig named C. Gutman and an odorous little camel named J. Cairo, and most especially to a woman of the female sex by name H. Laverne.
You want them or the tooth?
Both. Not one without the other.
Then it'll take a little time. They haven't got the tooth.
You know who it is?
In the bridge work of a man named Julius.
Oh. That then explains the dentist and the diabolical manner which they employed in smuggling the tooth out of Lisboa.
Now, you go on home and you stay there until I call you, huh?
Senor, I respect your judgment.
Thank you.
You will find me at the Hotel San Rafael, and for your retainer you may consider the $20,000 bond as yours.
Wow.
Adios, senor.
Adios. Be careful crossing streets.
Adios.
Adios.
Adios.
Adios, Tom Constantine.
Adios.
Yeah, adios.
Adios.
Adios.
Mr. Spade. Sam, get in.
You got a hack license, Miss Laverne?
Oh, please don't, Sam. I know this car's ridiculous, but I don't dare use taxis or be seen on the street. What did that man tell you?
What happened last night when you called me from the bus station in such a panic?
Why didn't you come?
I went to see the fat man.
You saw Gutman? Did he mention me?
You didn't make that call last night to get me out of the apartment so that somebody could get in and kill Laverne.
Oh, Sam.
Then why did you call?
Because I found Herman Julius, and I'm driving you there now.
We didn't do any talking after that. She sat very close to me. There was plenty to talk about, but we didn't do any talking after that.
I was vaguely aware that we were driving across to Oakland, and a few minutes later we pulled up in front of an apartment building.
We took the elevator up to the ninth floor.
This is it, Sam. 9B.
Nobody home.
No, he's in there, Sam. I know he is.
Mr. Julius. Mr. Julius.
Go in. There's no Julius here.
That's his voice.
Mr. Julius, I've got to talk to you. It's very important. If you don't open the door, I'll have to...
I'll kill myself. I'll kill myself.
He will, Sam. He will. You've got to stop him.
Go away.
Julius, wait a minute. Wait. Don't.
No, Sam.
It was the ninth floor he started from.
Poor, frightened little Herman Julius was dead on arrival.
By the time we made it downstairs, the street was cluttered with cops.
I grabbed hope by the arm, hustled her around the corner to a rented limousine, and told her I'd call her later.
My next stop was the fat man himself.
Well, sir. So you've reconsidered. You found Julius.
I know where he is.
And your terms, sir. What are your terms?
A hundred thousand. Cash on the line.
How did the question, Mr. Spade?
No cash, no tooth.
You found another buyer?
Yeah. A man named Constantino de Braganza says the tooth belongs in the head of his ancestor by a previous marriage.
Oh, oh, oh. A quink conceits our very role. And what else did he say to you?
That he'd double any bid that you made on the tooth.
My dear fellow, have you any inkling, any remote idea of the value of that tooth?
No? Well, I'll tell you, sir. But let me warn you. If I tell you, and you do not then produce the tooth...
Yeah, yeah. Let's get on with it, Godwin.
Yes. Well, sit down, sir.
How much do you know of the 16th century history of the Orient?
Well, enough to fill that tooth with.
Capital joke, sir. I shall give you a little more. Enough, say, to fill an elephant tusk.
I'm listening.
Well, sir. When the Portuguese invaded India in the 16th century and established the city of Goa,
there were three main empires in the Orient, namely China, India, and Burma.
And the rulers of all three empires sought to rule the world.
Now, legend had it that in order to become lord of the world,
a monarch had first to be the possessor of seven gems.
That's gems spelled with a J, sir. Yes, gems.
This is no fantasy, I'm telling you, Mr. Spade. This is actual history. Seven gems.
And what were those seven gems?
You tell me.
The first six do not concern us, Mr. Spade.
A golden wheel, a white elephant, all easy to come by for an Oriental monarch.
But the seventh. Ah, Mr. Spade, the seventh.
What was that, the tooth?
The tooth, Mr. Spade, the tooth.
The sacred tooth of the great lord Buddha himself.
That remained in the temple of Maligawa at Kandy on the island of Ceylon.
Now, many kings and armies to capture it, but all were defeated by the fierce Brahmins
who stood guard at the temple gates.
And so we come to the year 1552.
That's about time.
Now, in that year, the Portuguese viceroy, Dom Constantino de Briganza,
landed near Jaffna with a force of 1,220 men and defeated the king's legions in a savage battle.
He returned to Goa with his victorious army and the tooth, which he retained as his personal pride.
It was not long before the Burmese king, by name, sent an emissary to Dom Constantino,
offering the modern equivalent of a million pounds sterling as ransom for the tooth.
How did you get to Portugal?
Hear me out, sir. Hear me out. Hear me out.
All right.
Well, before the transaction could be consummated, the Portuguese archbishop called on Dom Constantino
and in the name of the Inquisition demanded the tooth.
After some delay, Dom Constantino, under threat of torture, delivered a tooth into the archbishop's hand.
And that tooth was publicly destroyed.
The archbishop grinding it into powder with mortar and pestle and scattering the residue upon a fire.
That the tooth might be utterly consumed.
Shortly after this, Dom Constantino's personal physician, after drawing a tooth, now mind you, a tooth,
from the viceroy's head, died under very mysterious circumstances.
We may safely infer that the substitute tooth, which he drove into the viceroy's jawbone
after the primitive fashions of dentistry in those days, was the candy tooth,
put there for safekeeping until Dom Constantino could resume negotiations with Bijnang's emissary.
Yeah, but...
But, but, but, before that could be accomplished, Dom Constantino was stricken with the plague,
carried aboard ship, and home to Portugal where he died.
He was entombed with a candy tooth still in his head.
Now, the manuscript which fell into the possession of the Russian Kemidov and later into mind,
but I shall not go into unnecessary detail, was Dom Constantino's deathbed confession,
proving beyond the shadow of a doubt that the real candy tooth had reposed for more than four centuries,
not in the great temple at Candy in Ceylon, but in a Portuguese tooth.
Yeah, well, I think I can take it from there.
You still haven't told me what my percentage is.
Well, my dear boy, if your percentage were one-tenth of one percent of what can be realized on that tooth,
you could retire to a life of sloth and luxury for the rest of your days.
For the restoration of the true relic, there is no limit to what the Buddhist world could and would pay.
Gifts and tribute paid to one temple alone exceed eleven million dollars a year.
Now, my boy, you begin to comprehend something of its value?
I'm still subtle for cash.
Very well, then. Ten thousand dollars.
It's a deal.
You understand, Mr. Spade, now that you have my secret, the affair must be gotten over quickly, for good and all.
If it is not, believe me, this time I shall not bargain with you for my life.
You shall bargain with me for yours.
After I left Gutman, I called you, Dundee, and found out by a clever ruse where Herman Julius's body had been sent, you told me.
Then I hustled on over to the mortuary.
As I walked in, a hushed young man wearing a hushed cutaway and a hushed expression greeted me.
Good evening, sir. I'm Converse Etheridge. Can I be of service?
Thank you. I've come to pay my last respects to an old friend. I, uh, can I be alone with him for a few minutes?
His name?
Uh, Julius. Herman Julius.
Oh, yes, yes. His widow is here, sir. Mrs. Julius.
His widow, huh?
Yes, she's inconsolable.
Uh, perhaps, as a dear friend of the departed, you might give her words of comfort. Please go in.
Thank you.
A little woman in black was sobbing quietly to herself. She turned around when she heard me come in.
Her eyes lit up with hatred, and suddenly she grabbed something from her pocketbook and held it at me.
It was a.45, and her hand was shaking.
Yeah, this time I will do it.
Always before, I didn't have the heart. Always hating bloodshed. But this time, yeah, this time...
Nick, Nick, Frau Julius. Freund, Freund.
You, you are not one of them.
No, no, I'm a detective. I, I want to punish the people responsible for your husband's death.
Yeah, yeah, I believe you. This gun, I was going to follow poor Herman. There didn't seem to be any reason for going on.
Now, tell me something about yourself and your husband, Mrs. Julius.
Ah, it's an old story now.
Years of separation in different concentration camps.
Bribery, bribery. Then my children and I, we were finally released.
Came to this country. After two years, Herman brought us from Lisbon.
We knew soon he would be with us. But even though the war was finished, they had lost.
Still they went after Herman Julius. He knew the Nazis were behind him all the time.
And even here, in this country, he did not dare come to me.
Mrs. Julius, you see, those people that followed your husband this time weren't Nazis.
They weren't even after him. They were after something he was carrying.
In Lisbon, didn't he go to a dentist named Laverne?
Yeah, yeah, that's...
Didn't Laverne put an odd-shaped tooth, kind of yellow, into his bridgework?
Yeah.
So he smuggled the candy tooth out of Portugal and then he never even knew it.
Oh, well, it does not matter now. Poor Herman is dead.
Surely you... they will leave his poor broken body in peace.
I doubt it very much, Mrs. Julius.
No, no, surely they will...
That's why I want to make a request of you.
You see, others have died besides your husband because of this thing.
More will die unless you do as I ask you.
Oh, to stop terror, any terror, I will do anything, Mr. Spade, anything you say.
I told her what I wanted done and she agreed to do it.
Then I started on my part of it.
I called Gutman on the St. Mark and told him 11 at my apartment.
Then I called Dom Constantino at the San Rafael,
hoping I got there around 10.30.
Go on in, Angel.
Wow. This is where you live, Sam?
Where I sleep.
Must be lonely for you.
Sorry, no vacancy.
Sam, listen, there's so much I want to tell you about myself.
I'm listening.
Well, listen, just before the war started, I was engaged to marry a man named Kemedov in London.
The Russian, yeah. Gutman mentioned him, something about an old manuscript.
Yeah, Kemedov had stolen it in India. It was very old.
And Kemedov said that the information in it made it worth more than the Maltese Balkan.
It was in Latin.
How'd the fat man get this manuscript away from Kemedov?
So you double-crossed Kemedov and took the manuscript to Gutman.
Sam, before they get here, I've got to tell you something.
No matter what happens, I want you to know this.
Sure, sure, I know. Say it, Angel.
Don't torture me, Sam.
I'd like to hear it, Angel.
Oh, Sam, I love you so much it feels like hate. It feels like I...
Go on, go on. Hate me, Angel.
Darling.
No. No, don't answer it, Sam.
Relax, Angel. You'll be okay.
Sam?
Yeah?
Only you, Sam. All I want are...
only you.
Just stay on third, Angel. I'll bat you home safe.
Ah, you see, sir, I'm a punctual man.
Come on in, Gutman.
Look, the same apartment, the same colors, everything the same.
Yeah, the same rat race, Cairo.
Hello, Marvin. Killed anybody since lunch?
You want me to give it to your shamans?
Oh, please, please, Marvin. No unpleasant talk.
Mr. Gutman, please tell Marvin...
In here, gentlemen.
Yes, yes, yes, Marvin.
Mr. Spade, I'm sure regrets the unfortunate.
Where and what have we here?
You all know the lady?
You see, Mr. Gutman, you see, I told you.
Now he's dealing with her. Oh, this is so...
Shut up, you hear me? Shut up.
Don't talk just like that. I'm jumpy.
I don't feel good. I don't know why...
You shut up, too.
Always fighting violence on prisoners.
I'm getting too old for this.
Now, Mr. Spade, to the business at hand.
You have the truth.
I want some answers first.
Did you have our dentist friend Laverne killed?
No.
Did Marvin kill Laverne?
No.
Cairo?
No.
Nobody killed Laverne. He died of old age.
Have you asked the little lady there?
Sam.
I gotta ask you, baby.
Oh, Sam, how could you?
Answer me.
No, Sam, you know I didn't.
Well, it doesn't matter.
I'll take my pigeon pick to take the fall.
I don't feel so good.
Now, Marvin, retain yourself. No violence.
Well, Sam...
That's it.
Sit still.
I have a package from the Avalon Mortuary for Mr. Spade.
Oh, hello, sir.
Yeah, let's have it.
Mrs. Julia said to tell you...
Yeah, yeah, thanks.
Well, Gutman, this is it.
This little package.
The candy tooth.
The tooth, at last. Give it to me, sir. Give it to me.
Oh, Mr. Gutman, it's all over. We've got it. We've got it.
We have. Come, sir, no more teasing.
Uh-uh, uh-uh. Put those fat lunch hooks down before I chop them off.
Oh, I rather thought this was no. What now, sir?
I told you there was another bidder.
And here he is.
I would advise you not to reach for your gun, Mr. Spade.
You're pointing that gun at the wrong belly. The fat man's inside.
Mr. Gutman, Mr. Cairo...
Don Constantino de Braganza of Portugal.
Portugal, indeed. It's the Russians.
Come it off.
Do not be so formal, my darling.
You may call me Sergei Ivanovich.
All right, let's get off the copac. We're all here.
You see? You see?
Mr. Spade, you are an unmitigated cancer.
You knew all along this man was an imposter.
That was the name he gave me.
Well, what matter? There's enough for all.
Fatshah, old murzhik, Mr. Spade, you'll please give me that package.
Now, Marvin, now!
Oh!
They both had their guns into each other at once, practically.
Kamidov fired first, but Marvin didn't fall.
He spit out his chewing gum...
Then he squeezed the trigger of his.45.
They both looked more surprised than anything else.
But they were both very dead before they fell down.
Marvin!
Marvin...dead.
As dead as Kamidov.
Oh, well, it was worth it.
You know, of course, it was he who killed Laverne.
I told you I had my pigeon picked for the fall.
Pike Admin, you are a winner.
Poor Marvin. He looks so dead.
You can have the package now.
Oh, yes, yes, yes. The truth is the truth, sir.
He seized the package with his fat little fingers.
They were trembling so he could hardly undo the strings.
He tore the outer wrappings, exposed a small metal jar.
He looked at me and wrenched the lid off of it.
He dumped the contents onto the table.
The tooth, what is it? There's nothing here.
Ashes. Ashes, sir, ashes.
That's it, Guttman, ashes.
The tooth is there, along with the rest of Herman Julius.
He was cremated this afternoon.
Cremated? The tooth, it was cremated!
No, it cannot be, no!
But it is! It is the truth!
Oh, you idiot! Again you are the idiot!
Why do I stay with him? Why? Why?
Well, well.
Well, come, come, come, Joel.
Shall we stand here weeping and bemoaning a curious quirk of fate?
Or shall we defy all fates?
Were we not well underway to finding the Romanov scepter
when this charming lady detoured us with her romantic notions?
Come, come. What say you, Joel, eh?
You mean we go to... Yes, yes, Joel, to Samarkand.
Mr. Guttman, do not say it. He is listening.
Yes, a wise precaution. Then we go, eh?
Yes, Mr. Guttman, yes, we go.
Ah, adieu, Mr. Spade.
Oh, sound.
It is like the stage of the old Vic at the final curtain of Hamlet.
Alas, poor Marvin. I knew him well.
Oh, well, many slip, twix the cup and the tooth.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Now, let him go, Mr. Montgomery.
I knew there was nothing on him that Dundee's boys could make stick.
I thought twice before I let Dundee take Hope Laverne,
but we both agreed it was the smart thing to do.
And what do you suppose Effie said when I said period and a report?
Oh, Sam, for once you came out of hand.
Twenty thousand dollars.
Oh, just think of the things we can do.
Pay all the bills, the years rent on the office,
have that awful old leather chair reupholstered
and a new ribbon for my typewriter.
Effie, uh, bunt that typewriter ribbon.
Well, maybe I can get along on this one for a while,
but Sam, I do think we should get my mother's earrings out of Morsh's pawn shop.
Effie, I know this is going to be a terrible blow to you, but...
Sam, what did you do with the $20,000?
I put it up for bail.
Bail?
Yeah.
That was the $20,000?
And you're released or you get the money?
It's very simple, Sam. You just go down and ask them for it.
Effie, you see, you don't understand these things.
Now, bail is a very complex legal technicality.
You see, you put up a bond and then you...
Sam, how much was the bail for Hope Laverne?
Yeah, that's what I mean, Angel.
Oh, Sam, you're such a child.
You'll never see her again. She was just... just using you.
I'll take it, Effie. Hello?
Angel.
Hello, Kitten.
Sam, I'm free. Shall I come over?
I'll always be waiting for you, Kitten.
Me too, Sam.
Kitten, indeed.
D-A-D. Kitten.
What's that, Angel?
Oh, forget it, Sam. I just get carried away.
Can't figure me out, eh, Angel?
Well, I'll tell you. I've lived without faith and I've lived without charity,
but I've just got to have...
About here is where I say, oh, good night, Sam.
Good night, sweetheart.
MUSIC
This is Robert Montgomery.
I'm sure our suspense audience agrees with me when I say that whenever it is,
it can't be too soon to have Sam Spade back with us again
in a full-hour adventure on radio's outstanding theatre of thrills.
Incidentally, our producer, editor, director on these weekly full hours of suspense,
Bill Spear, joins hands with Dashiell Hammett
to bring you the adventures of Sam Spade each Sunday night on this network.
Thanks for the plug, Bob. I have a basket full of thanks
to my friend Howard Sam Duff, the kind of actor a director lights candles for,
and the wonderful Lorraine Tuttle who plays Effie each week,
and the Joseph Kearns who is the Casper Guttman of them all.
And to all you other ornaments to your profession,
Kathy Lewis, Wally Mayer, Jane Avello, Janet Nolan, Jack Edwards Jr.,
Sydney Miller, Hans Conrad, and Bill Johnston.
And of course, as always, to our musical director and conductor,
Led Gluskin, and to the composer of our original scores, Lucian Morrowick.
And our special thanks to Bob Torman and Jason James, who wrote The Candy Tooth,
and who were voted by their fellow mystery writers of America,
the Edgar Allan Poe Award for Sam Spade, the best detective show on the air.
And to The Wild Root Company, our gracious sponsor of same,
for this courtesy and cooperation in making tonight's spaderie available.
Now tell about next week, Bob.
Next week we will bring you another great American master of suspense,
the author of The Postman Always Rings Twice and Double Indemnity, James M. Kane.
It's a full hour of Mr. Kane's very wonderful novel, Love's Lovely Counterfeit.
This is Robert Montgomery who will welcome you once again next week
to radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Don't forget next week at this same time, a full hour of Suspense.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.