The Star Of Savoy

The F.W. Fitch Company presents Dick Powell as Private Investigator Richard Rogue in Rogue's Gallery. Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!

Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! to hear Cass Daily, may I introduce myself? My name is Richard Rold. I'm a private investigator. I said it and I'm glad. Private investigator. That's the Harvard way of saying I'm a guy who has parlayed a hard head in the great curiosity about other people's affairs into a career.

At least that's the way the homicide squads Lieutenant Urban who shares my interest in and unlived bodies feels about me. And I'd also better tell you now that I have a certain personal idiosyncrasies. I hold audible, consolace consultations with my alter ego once in a while, but I'm confused and in need of advice.

His name is Hugo, which is Rog's bell backwards, and he's a very fresh little spook. Of course, I wouldn't have known I had an alter ego, Betty Callahan, The girl I would rather be marooned on a desert island with than not had and braw beating me into reading Sigmund Freud.

Betty, who is the sharpest newspaper woman in town, extends upward about five feet from the floor, has hair the color of cordon leather and firelight, and a tip tilted Irish nose, shying away for the most kissable mouth in the world.

She's... well, she's wonderful. And on this day I'm going to tell you about she and I had had lunch together. She had an hour to kill, so she walked back to my office with me.

You know, Richard, this is much too nice a day to work. Look, Betty, if you can get rid of that assignment you have for this afternoon, we'll go to the races, huh? Oh, I haven't been out this year.