The Ghost Of Florence Newton

Here's Shaka, and is she pretty? Come on in young lady, I'm bound for little Ben, but I'll drop you anywhere you like.

Thank you, you're very kind. My name is Blackie, Boston Blackie. I'm Florence Newton. Wanna give me an idea of where you'd like to be dropped off? I'd want to go to the farm. Anyone in particular?

My own farm, the one my father owns. I've been waiting in the creek. I hope he won't mind. There isn't much to do out here in the country except go waiting, isn't it? No, there isn't.

What do you kids do for excitement? Seventy night dances, movies, that sort of thing? Yes. That sort of thing. You're not particularly talkative, are you? I guess I'm not. Good guessing. This is the farm right here.

Would you please stop? Why sure. Thank you very much. No trouble at all. You may have a little trouble with that door on your side, it sticks. Oh wait, right where you are and I'll go around and open it for you.

Thank you. Be there, Jimmy. Well, here we are, you'll let... Where did she go? Florence? Florence Newton? Went into the house. I guess I ain't...

I better find out. I imagine you, Mr. Newton, that right? Yes. I just drove your daughter to the door, and when I went to help her out of the car she disappeared, I thought maybe she came in the house here.

My daughter? What did she look like? Well, beyond about 21, I'd say. Attractive. Brown hair, blue eyes, about so high. She'd been waiting in the creek and I gave her a lift. But what's the matter, isn't she here?