Spirits Don't Talk pt. 2

In another part of the city, a man is issuing orders to his subordinates. A dark sinister looking man whose tight lip, mile has no mercy in it. His business is creating spirit. Spirits of those who have departed.

Well, that last batch of cloth you bought me was certainly cheesy. My old nitrate would make that erectoplasm and that junk. Yeah, but you see, boys? Never mind the alibis. Pray to them and get something thinner.

Mark? Yes, sir. You still recording famous voices off the air? Yes, sir. Okay. See my secretary and get a list of the 400 best families? Yes, sir. Call them one at a time. See if you can seldom the idea of having each voice in the family record it.

As a memento for their relatives after they pass on. Make copies of each. We can use them in our senses. How they'll drive away, sir. Good. As you go out, tell Sweeney and maintenance to order two dozen more loudspeaker sets through my radio stores.

Fifty dozen crystal balls and seventy-five chases are playing cards. Right away from that. Take your sense from me, Chief. Yes. Now look, my apple-cheeked little trigger man. Professor Windrip phoned me that he has reason to suspect that some photographs were taken at his seance tonight by patrolman Dan Garrett.

The negatives may still be in its possession, or they may be in the possession of Dr. Franz that runs that little apothecary shop. I want those photographs. Okay, Chief, I'll get them. If you meet with resistance, let your conscience be your guide.

I got you, Chief. My trigger finger's all for nervous tonight. It must be the weather. The professor calling LG, join in. Hello, energy. This is certainly a terrible seat of affairs. When did the cops release you?