The House That Jack Built

Personal notice, dangerous my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Right, pull details. Standard oil company of California, on behalf of independent chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West, invites you to let George do it.

The house that Jack built, another adventure of George Valentine. Dear Mr. Valentine, my name is Lacey Jack. Now Jack is the surname, I always have to explain that. As a boy I never appreciated that handle Lacey in the front, but I got over it.

It changed, don't we? As time goes by, to a lot of things different. Mr. Valentine, for the first time in my life, I'm going to be really different and ask for help. I need you tonight.

If you'll meet me at the club casino at 11 o'clock, you and Miss Brooks, I'll explain to you what is happening. A man likes to just sit and look, Brooksie. What's the matter, take you half an hour to size people up?

No. We don't even really know who you are. I know you, though. Mother died when I was seven or eight. Through the mess, but can you imagine anybody, even on five cents a buck at beer, hanging a name like Lacy on a brand?

It's a nice nightclub, but let's get out. Hold it with me. Excuse me, this is in here. What? A girl. A sinker. What about it, Mr. Chuck? What do you think? I was alone. Nice looking.

You don't mind a few extra circles under the eye? It's not really up at all. Oh, brother, I can't. Come on, Brussey, let's drink the champagne. What do you think about the way she's saying?