Nine Hours to Live

It's a case for Nick Carter, Master Detective! Yes, it's 9 hours to live. Another case for that most famous of all man-hudders. The detective whose ability at solving crime is unequaled in the history of detective fiction.

Nick Carter, Master Detective. From late news, there's some to his last meal in the tradition of the condemned. He tuned to this station for further dramatically.

It was in number one. I moved in there this morning. Showed a way to walk the chair for number one. Is he all ready to go? Yeah. Yeah, and Barbara was in, shaved his head and legs about an hour ago.

How's he taking it? He ain't been a peep out of him. Don't want nothing to eat. Don't want a chaplain. Nothing. Only request he's made it to see you. Funny time to ask to see a detective.

Uh, do you know the mind, my ask, Mr. Carter? What made a big shot like you decide to see him? Well, maybe I'm curious to know what's on his mind. Or maybe I'm just as soft about a fellow who's going to die in a few hours.

I don't believe you got any sympathy for a killer. You're not you. Here we are. Here's your company, Wolden. Oh, hi, Mr. Carter. Hello, Wolden. You got five minutes. All right, Garn. Oh, so you came.

I was afraid you wouldn't. I must admit, I was surprised when the warden called and said you wanted to see me. Yeah, I imagine you were. Oh, it was sure nice of you to come.

Skip the po-mality, Johnny. Time's too short for chit-chat. Come to the point. It was on your mind. Mr. Carter, you think I'm guilty, don't you? Well, I didn't follow your case too closely, but you had a fair trial.