Amazing Death Of Mrs Putnam

Hello, but I was afraid for a moment that you had forgotten our appointment. Why, you almost scared me to death. And that wound too, after all the pains I've taken to scare you.

You remember me, don't you? I'm your host on behalf of the makers of Carter's Pills, and you ought to be my guest tonight in the mysterious circle of the inner sanctum. Come in, friends, won't you?

Thank you. Take that chair with the fire. Good. And you'll become accustomed to the dim lights in a moment. Don't get too comfortable, because we'll have you out of that chair with prunes, with chills, shivers, and quivers.

You're on our side, aren't you? You better be. But don't worry. Instead of the art criminals haunting us, we're going to haunt them. We're going to scare the daylights out of them. Yes. Welcome, then, friend.

Welcome to the mysterious circle of the inner thinking. And listened with weird and stranger tale as ever was told. The amazing death of Mrs. Putnam. The night is dismal. A light shines uncertainly in the room of a light gloomy mansion.

Suddenly a sobbing, hysterical woman slams the door shut, rushes to the telephone. Get the police quick. The police quiets quietly. Oh, hurry. Please, hurry. Hello. Hello. This is Mrs. Plutnam. You've got to see me from them. They'll kill me.

What's that telephone? They're going to kill me. I'm being murdered. This is Jeff Hanson for the headquarters. Place the call, the jump came through to it. Hurry! That's funny, Jeff. You hear what I heard, Porky?

I sure did, unless we're both having the same dream. Oh, the Porky? Yes? Yes, operator. Hanson, Jeff Hanson. You have? That's slow. Right, the town, Porky? Yes, you should. Yes. The Putnam house. Maple Street.