The Green-and-Gold String

Thus sent. And the producer of radio is outstanding theatre of thrills, the master of mystery and adventure, William N. Robeson. There's a lot of truth in the old saw about the loss of a horseshoe nail resulting in the loss of a kingdom.

The tiniest detail can often lead to quite extraordinary results, particularly if the detail is observed by a clever con man with sufficient loss in his soul. A man like the amazing Dr. Alka-Zah who parlayed a piece of string into a small fortune. Listen. Listen then, as Mr. Vincent Price stars in the green and gold string, which begins exactly one minute from now.

Mote, Kent, mote, Kent, mote, Kent, with the mic when I say hello. It is mine, mine. What up you, California, this is the boy.

That dolted voice belongs to Abby, my good and devoted assistant who stands outside my studio here in Coney Island and drums up business. Of course, I wrote his feel. And did it pay off one evening last fall.

Oh, thank you kindly. Good evening sir. Are you Dr. Alka's? Alka's are indeed I am at a Metro service. Oh, I'd like a reading if you don't mind. Mmm. Age 35 to 40, cheaper, expensive suit suit to tighten to short not hers, a henmee down accent, British cockney, nervous.

Something on her mind, possibly a housekeeper or a lady's name. I showed it as a chair reserved for customers. It's under the mirror. Ah, they're handy mirrors. Mm-hmm. Bookey in here. I hit all these black curbs.

A black velvet, madam, to minimize all distractions. That you're crystal ball? Yes, madam. The mysterious orb in which I see review the future as well as the past. But in your case, I think it won't be needed.