[Alfred Hitchcock theme music]
- Oh, sorry, my transistor
radio.
Much more dignified-looking
than most models.
People are terribly impressed.
I understand these have
become very popular
in medical circles.
In fact, they're outselling
stethoscopes.
They satisfy everyone.
The patient is happy
because he thinks the doctor
is listening to his heartbeat.
And the doctor is pleased
because he's getting
the latest ball scores.
Our play tonight is a blend
of mystery and medicine.
It begins with what appears
to be an ordinary case
of dead on arrival,
but it turned out to be
something less than that and
something more than that.
It follows this one-minute
anesthetic.
[dramatic music]
[tires screeching]
[dramatic music]
- County Health Department.
Oh, just a moment, I'll connect
you.
County Health Department.
No, no, no, sir.
No, you want the animal pound.
- There's no law against
reheating the soup
out of the pot it was cooked in.
But those pots do have to be
washed after each serving.
Yes, sir, even if it
doesn't taste good that way.
- Mr. Weiss, please, medical
practitioner.
He would be listed in the state
directory.
- [Man] Mr. Cullen, that
may very well be the way--
- It's your public duty to help.
- Dr. Dana.
- That may very well be--
- [Man] It's your public duty to
help.
- Chief wants you.
County Health Department.
- Look, Mr. Cullen--
- He cured your husband.
- Never mind how much
the fine is, Mr. Cullen.
Next time we'll padlock your
restaurant.
Yes, sir.
- Tropical diseases.
- Morning, Doc.
- Which one have you got?
- None of 'em I hope.
I'm just brushing up on
my medical knowledge.
Too noisy to read in there.
- You keep reading those medical
books,
you'll wind up with the
symptoms.
We all do.
Morning, sir.
- Good morning.
- Headache?
- Heartburn, I get it
every time I eat donuts.
- A new remedy?
- Yeah, it's new, the
manufacturer says it's a remedy.
- These free sample medicines
will make a hypochondriac out of
anybody.
- I didn't call you in here
for consultation about my
heartburn.
From the state lab, that
bulldog died last night.
Positive, rabies.
- I'll get in touch with the
Bensons.
- Already have.
She's in the next room with
the little Benson girl.
She was bitten on the neck, you
know.
Closer to the brain,
the quicker the onset.
- Yes, I'm familiar with
rabies pathology, Doctor.
But why me?
- Well, I thought I heard
you say that this job
was more like being a cop than a
doctor,
so here's a chance to
practice a little medicine.
- My field is epidemiology,
not pediatrics.
- You haven't got a field yet,
son.
You're the junior around here,
and the junior gets the dirty
work.
That's the system.
- Yes, sir.
Do you mind if I ask an
impertinent question, Doctor?
- No, go ahead.
- If I weren't here,
would you do it yourself?
- Nope, I'd have Abrams or
Mackey do it.
I never could stand the
sight of blood or pain.
- Hi.
I'm Dr. Dana.
- Hello, Doctor.
- Is it going to hurt?
- Not a bit, dear.
Is it, Doctor?
- Yes, it is, and we've got to
do it again tomorrow morning
and every morning for a whole
month.
[Mary Anne crying]
- Now you mustn't cry.
- Why not?
You go ahead and cry, Mary Anne.
You cry all you want to.
Just like when you fall
down or you bump your head.
Have you ever done that?
Well, this doesn't hurt
any more than that,
and it doesn't hurt just to
hurt.
It's a bad germ that
made that dog bite you,
but a wonderful man named
Pasteur
found a way to k*ll that germ.
That's what this is for.
Shall we k*ll it?
- [Mary Anne] Ow!
- Where are we going today, Doc?
- The harbor, got a banana
boat I've been wanting to eat.
- Hey, your buddy at the morgue
called.
- Who, Miller?
- Yeah.
Said he thinks he's got
something.
- What?
- A stiff I guess.
How's that for a fast diagnosis?
- That's hilarious.
- Cops picked this one up in
a ditch next to the freeway.
Had it figured for a hit and
run.
- No pedestrians on the freeway.
- Sherlock Holmes.
- Hey, listen, how does Miller
figure it?
- Oh, he hasn't yet.
The guy had multiple
contusions with no swelling
and pronounced Hippocratic
facies.
- We'll have a look on the way.
- Yeah, do that.
- What did he mean, Doc?
- Bruises sustained
after death don't swell.
See, there's no circulation.
- No, I meant that other, that--
- Oh, the Hippocratic facies.
- Yeah, Hippocratic facies.
- Well, that's the way the
features of dead man look
if he's been very sick.
See, accident victims look
healthy.
Miller must have figured
this guy died of some illness
before he got the bruises.
- It's probably just another
wino.
You better stop encouraging
those autopsy surgeons, Dan.
All they want is somebody to
talk to, you know what I mean?
- Miller's okay.
- Oh yeah?
- Never lost a patient.
- And as I told you,
there's no gross evidence
in the thorax or the abdomen,
but look at that kisser.
- Yeah, sure likes like had a
bug in him.
- Excuse me, Doc.
- Oh, Judd's a frustrated
doctor.
- Yeah, aren't we all?
- You done any microscopic
sections?
- I didn't want to spoil your
fun.
- You got the Health
Department all wrong, Doctor.
We don't look for epidemic
disease.
We just don't want to miss it,
that's all.
- Yeah, pardon me.
You nearly burst into tears last
week
when that likely looking yellow
fever
turned out to be just another
infectious mononucleosis.
- Just hated guessing wrong is
all.
Judd, you can get yourself
something to eat if you like.
That banana boat can wait.
I want to see what got into this
guy.
- I'd like to stick
around if it's okay, Doc.
I ain't too hungry anyway.
[dramatic music]
- No doubt about it.
- I'll need another look.
Judd.
- Sorry, Doc.
What is it, Doc?
- Bacillus anthracis.
- Anthrax.
[dramatic music]
- Any more on that hit and run,
Doc?
- Yeah, Sarge, just like I told
you, it was no hit and run.
Dan, Sargent Boyle, Homicide.
This is Dr. Dan Dana,
County Health Department.
- k*ller's under that lens,
Sarge.
The little rods with the
square ends, anthrax bacilli.
- You fellas identify the body
yet?
- No print record.
Doesn't figure he was rolled,
not with the rings and
money in his pocket.
- Looks to me like he was
thrown off of a moving car
after he died.
- Then the jacket with his
wallet in it
must still be in the car.
- Well, you better find
it quick and whoever else
was in that car because
they haven't long to live.
- I came back for his shirt.
There was a laundry marker--
- Hey, don't touch those!
It's a piece of the shirt
under the microscope.
Lousy with anthrax spores
just like his lungs.
So are yours, if you got
near him, and the rest of us.
We've got to burn all of our
clothes
and load up with penicillin.
That goes for everybody that got
near him
and everybody who's been around
since we've been near him.
Miller, get some penicillin,
will ya?
- Yeah.
- Sergeant, you can start
stripping.
- Wait a minute.
- Bill the city.
One suit of clothes burned
in the line of duty.
- What am I supposed to wear?
- Judd, call the sergeant's
home and tell his wife--
- I'll call.
I don't want some
stranger calling my house
telling my wife that her
husband is in a morgue naked.
She's a very nervous woman.
[light jazzy music]
[dramatic music]
[dramatic music]
- Yeah, I got you, Doc, go
ahead.
Pulmonary anthrax, incubates in
- The spores can be
transmitted on clothing,
carpets, brushes, practically
anything
that's had contact with
the infected animal.
Symptoms, just like a lot of
other overwhelming infections,
cough, sinosis, fever,
hyperpnea.
Never mind how you spell it.
The important thing is that
death occurs in 18 to 24 hours
in 99 out of 100 people who get
it.
Right, but penicillin is a
specific.
Yeah, yeah, a sure cure.
Can you make the afternoon
edition?
- Hello, hello, who's this?
Oh, Mr. Huntziger, this is Dr.
Oliver, chief health officer.
You won't have to worry
about the afternoon edition.
Dr. Dana made a mistake.
- Oh, I see.
All right, forget it.
- Diagnosis was no mistake,
Doctor.
- No, but that call was.
- That kinda story can be
dynamite.
- So can anthrax.
- There's a disease
that's a lot more deadly
than that, Doctor.
It isn't listed in those
books, but it ought to be.
It ought to be under the
letter P, P for panic.
- No reason for panic.
I made a specific--
- Reason has nothing to do with
it.
That's what makes it so deadly.
Everybody would be doing
exactly what Judd's doing here
if that story got out.
They'd be looking up anthrax
in their encyclopedia.
Here, all domestic animals
are subject to the infection.
And from them, glue workers,
upholsterers, stevedores,
customs inspectors, tanners,
wool sorters, leather workers,
farmers, brush makers,
hunters, butchers, herdsmen,
shepherds, ranch hands, et
cetera, et cetera, et cetera,
and the families of such persons
and persons who have had
contact with such persons.
In short, everybody.
- Isn't that a good reason
for warning the public?
- Warning them to what,
stop breathing or to
load up on penicillin?
You know, I wonder how
many gallons it would take
to pump a million units
into every man, woman,
and child in this county.
I wonder where it'd come
from, who'd pay for it.
We couldn't ask the governor.
By that time, everybody in the
state
would be hollering for it.
He couldn't ask the president.
By then, this whole nation
would be in a state of hysteria.
As for the United Nations.
- I get the point, Doctor,
but just what do we do?
- I was hoping you would ask me
that
in that I am the head of this
department.
We proceed as we always have,
one logical step at a time.
We notify the proper
authorities,
and we wait until the police
get a lead on the dead man
so we can trace the source.
You have no objection
to letting the police
do their job, have you?
- No, no, I'm all for it.
I just haven't seen any results.
- Now wait a minute.
- You're gonna have to
learn to wait, Doctor.
Wait until it hurts.
- Apparently even when it kills.
- Doctor, public health service
is no different than any
other government agency.
We go through proper channels,
and it isn't always as
inefficient as it may seem
to well-intentioned but
brash young doctors.
Oh, by the way, the coroner
called.
He's rather annoyed that you
didn't clear that autopsy
through his office instead
of rushing over here with it.
- He's no doctor, he's a
politician.
- What was that?
- I said he's not a
doctor, he's a politician.
- So am I, or he'd have
had your scalp, Doctor.
- Winston Churchill.
[dramatic music]
- Hey, Doug.
- What?
- Need a rhythm section?
- Yeah.
- Go ahead, Alfie. Go, baby!
- Hey, hey!
- Go ahead, Alfie. Go, baby!
- See what you can get on a
Harry Slater, S-L-A-T-E-R.
- Right.
- What do you got here?
Oh yeah, he's a
bandleader, he plays drums.
He's got a little six-piece
combo.
- Oh yeah.
- My daughter says he's a hot
one.
- Your daughter is all...
- Got something, Sarge?
- Yeah, a riddle.
This belongs to that corpse of
yours, but who drove it here?
- You sure it's his?
- Sure I'm sure.
I'm a cop, not a doctor.
I can't bury my mistakes.
- All right, Sergeant.
- His drivers license.
Proof of identification.
- Harry Slater.
- Yeah, he's a drummer.
Has his own little combo.
- This his stuff?
- Yeah, it's just about the
right size.
Some of the shirts are
monogrammed H.S.
- What do you think?
- Dirty socks, shirts, wrinkled
suit.
I'd say on his way back
from a little trip.
Somebody ditched the car
after pushing him out on the
freeway.
- He was sick enough to fall
out.
- Like I say, I'm a cop, not a
doctor.
How come whoever was with
him ain't reported it yet?
- Because whoever it was might
be just as dead of anthrax
right now as he is.
Is this all?
- No, the wallet was in here.
- You shouldn't have touched
that, Sarge.
- Now look, I didn't
know this was our man.
There was a make out on it,
and the boys were keeping their
eyes open.
They see a car and the license--
- Did you boys touch that jacket
too?
- Sure did.
- Yeah.
- Judd, you want to get the
penicillin out of the car?
- Hey, what's this all about?
- You're about to get
shot in the line of duty.
- You too, Sarge.
- Now wait a minute, you
told me back at the morgue
that was long-lasting
penicillin.
- Can't take any chances.
All of us are gonna get in one
car
and go down to the Health
Department lab.
If there are any anthrax
spores on that jacket,
and it'll be lousy with
them, anybody that touched it
will have to have his clothes
burned.
- Not again.
- I thought that diagnosis
was a mistake, Doc.
I'm Huntziger, the "Journal
Express."
We talked on the phone this
afternoon.
- What are you doing here?
- You didn't think I'd fall
for old man Oliver's stall, did
you?
I've been tailing you all
evening.
Now look, you've got something
here,
and I want to know what it is.
- It's anthrax, Mr. Huntziger,
and you've got it now.
Roll up your sleeve.
- Say good bye to your suit.
[upbeat drum music]
- Hey, this don't make no sense
hanging around here until
closing time.
Maybe no drunks will come out.
- That's when they do
come out, closing time.
Ain't it, Gordie?
- Sure, Alf.
Look, the drunker the better,
and the later the drunker.
- We don't even know if
there's any drunks in there.
- You know something, Alf's got
a point.
- Maybe we ought to go in
and see if there's any.
- Why not?
- Wait a minute, how are we
gonna do that?
You know we can't get into a
bar.
- Ah, sure we can.
Just walk in like anybody else.
Look, we can't stay maybe,
but they can't keep us from
walking in.
- Now wait, that might not
be too smart, you know,
letting them get a good
look at us and everything
considering what we're gonna do
and all.
- You know what I'm thinking,
Doug?
- What?
- I think Alfie's chickening
out.
- So do I.
- Hey, what's wrong with
wanting to play it smart?
- Hey, you calling us stupid?
- You know I ain't, Gordie.
- Then let's go, man.
Hold it, hold it.
[dramatic music]
That guy coming out, he's
perfect.
- Set up.
- Hey, look, how about
I wait in the heap, huh?
I don't want any part
of what you guys get.
Listen, I'll swing around
and I'll pick you up.
- A U-turn?
That's against the law, Alfie.
Or maybe you just want to
bug out and hang us up, huh?
- You wanted in, and you're in.
- Come on, come on, let's go.
[blows thudding]
- Come on, in the ride.
- Get out of here!
[upbeat drum music]
- We hate to interrupt this
commercial,
but the local stations
are clamoring to be heard.
I shall return to you after
they have had their say,
so keep an effigy burning in the
window.
Welcome back to "The
Alfred Hitchcock Hour"
and to another commercial.
Our sponsor persists in
communicating with us
week after week although we
never answer.
You'd think he would begin to
understand,
but no, here he is again.
[dramatic music]
- You were saying, Mr.
Huntziger?
- I was saying, Doctor,
that the "Journal Express"
is a responsible newspaper.
We don't want to start a panic,
but there's a story here,
and my job is getting it.
- Oh, yeah, by all means, Mr.
Huntziger.
- Now don't give me that.
You called my editor and got him
to agree
not to run a word
without an okay from you.
- Now, Mr. Huntziger, that's my
job.
- Mind telling me how you did
it?
- No, not at all.
I simply pointed out to your
editor...
Good morning, Doctor.
Heard you had quite a
campfire here last night.
- Yes, did you hear anything
from Boyle on Slater yet?
- No, but I may have heard
from the chief of police.
It seems he resents you
ordering his men around.
- Dr. Oliver, we've got to
find out everything we can
about this dead man and fast.
- Oh, by all means, son,
but do let us try to go
through channels, huh?
- Dr. Oliver was just explaining
how he k*lled my story through
channels.
- Well, don't let me interrupt,
sir.
- Oh, thank you.
Mr. Huntziger, there's quite
an agricultural community
in this county.
Anthrax finds its origin in
cattle.
Now we don't know yet whether
those spores that Harry Slater
picked up if he got 'em
from local cattle or not.
But a news story at this
time could start a rumor
that would wreck the dairy
and the farm industries.
I just merely pointed
that out to your editor.
- Dr. Oliver likes to think
of himself as a politician.
- Oh, I don't like it,
just face the facts.
- Even if we don't know for
sure, wouldn't it be prudent
to quarantine every head
of cattle in this county?
Or is the welfare of an
industry more important
than the welfare of people?
- Industry is people, Doctor.
I've seen what shutting one
of them down can do to them.
By the way, you might consider
specializing in gynecology
instead of epidemiology.
Seems you've got quite a
bedside manner with the ladies.
The little Benson girl is
outside waiting
for her second anti-rabies shot.
She won't let Abrams or Mackey
touch her.
She insists on that nice Dr.
Dana.
- Quite an operation
you've got here, Doctor.
I'm surprised we don't
have a man covering it.
It's hotter than a police beat.
- Well, often there's a lot more
at stake.
- Mind if I hang around?
- Suit yourself.
Remember that sometimes
publicity can be our best
friend.
Other times, it can be our worst
enemy.
- I'll try and make the right
decision.
- You won't have to. I will.
- Uh huh, I get it.
- [Mary Anne] Ow!
[phone ringing]
- Dr. Oliver.
Oh yes, Doctor.
Are you positive?
Yeah, we'll be right over.
Miss Nelson.
- [Miss Nelson] Yes, sir?
- Judd out there?
- [Miss Nelson] Yes, sir.
- Tell him that Dr. Dana
and I want a fast ride
over to County General.
Congratulations, Doctor,
you got your second case
of pulmonary anthrax.
[dramatic music]
Doctor.
- Doctor, I'm sorry.
He was an old man. He went fast.
- Who was he?
- Name's Dominic Chitava, city
employee.
He worked for the Department of
Highways.
That's his wife.
Total prostration by the
time they got him here.
That bulletin from your office,
Doctor,
put me onto the anthrax.
Come on and look at this.
Patch of infiltration here in
the lungs.
That confirmed it.
That's a piece of his shirt.
It's loaded with anthrax spores.
Same shirt he wore to work
yesterday, according to her.
- Mrs. Chitava, has your
husband spent any time
with a man named Slater, Harry
Slater?
- Look, Doctor, why don't
we have Mrs. Chitava--
- Mrs. Chitava, where was
your husband yesterday?
- He worked like every day.
- Well, was he feeling all
right before he went to work?
Mrs. Chitava, was your
husband sick yesterday?
Did he say anything about not
feeling well
before he went to work?
Last night.
Mrs. Chitava, when was your
husband sick?
- I no see him last night.
Only for a few minutes when
he come home from work.
I work night, scrubwoman.
When I come home this
morning, he's sick, dying.
- Mrs. Chitava, you've got to
help us
or a lot more people are gonna
die.
- She just lost her husband.
- Please.
- But Doctor--
- She is in no shape to answer
questions.
And I doubt if she'd know
the answers even if she were.
Dr. Taylor can handle the
matters here.
I imagine you'll want to
decontaminate your people
that had contact, huh?
- Of course.
- You better start her on
penicillin.
It's a sure thing she's
infected.
- Thank you, Doctor.
Soon as she's up to it, I'll
see what I can find out.
- Thank you, Doctor.
- I'd like to ask her one
more question, Doctors.
It's important.
- Nurse, please prepare--
- Mrs. Chitava,
did your husband bring
anything home from work
with him last night?
Anything that didn't belong to
him?
- My husband was honest man.
- Yes, mam, I didn't mean that.
- What did you mean?
- I just checked with
the Highway Department.
He was assigned to a section
of the freeway yesterday
near the Oak Ridge turn-off.
That's where Slater's body was
found.
- There's your connection.
- Trouble is, he couldn't
have had any direct contact
with the body.
Slater was found at 6:30 a.m.,
and the meat wagon had
him out of there by 8:00.
The city work truck didn't drop
Mr. Chitava off until 9:00.
- You think there might
have been something else
lying there, something
that belonged to Slater.
Maybe something the police
overlooked.
- Something that Mr. Chitava
picked up.
- My husband bring nothing home.
- How do you find something
when you don't even know
what it is you're looking for?
- Pasteur did.
[upbeat jazzy music]
- Hey, you know something, Doug.
- [Doug] What?
- Rolling drunks sure beats
swapping junk like this.
You know, like you get the cash
right now
instead of having to sell
stuff a piece at a time.
What's the matter with you?
- I ain't feelin' too hot.
- Me neither.
Kinda like a sore throat.
- Yeah.
- Hey, you know, maybe
we're getting the flu
or something held up here, huh?
Are you listening to me?
- Yeah, Gordie, I'm listening.
And like I'm thinking too.
- [Gordie] About what?
- About leaving Alf's heap
back at that drive-in.
- Somebody might strip it, huh?
Oh, what do we care? It's Alf's.
- That's what worries me.
His old man gave him that heap,
and you know Alf's old man.
Sooner or later he's gonna want
to know what happened to it.
- Alf knows better than
to tell his old man.
- I ain't so sure.
He's as scared of his
old man as he is of you.
He might just blow the whistle
on us.
- It'll be the last time.
- Be a lot smarter if we
gave him back the heap
and cut him in just for the time
being.
- You know, you might be right.
Might also be smarter if he was
where
I can keep an eye on him.
Why don't you go get him,
give him back his heap.
Tell him I ain't sore
anymore. Bring him back here.
Hey, you okay?
- I feel woozy.
I'll go back around the point.
I ain't about to climb
that the way I feel.
[Gordie coughing]
- Keep your pants on, Doc.
I got a dozen men on this,
but we don't know exactly
what we're looking for either.
All we know is that Slater was a
bachelor
away for the weekend.
At least he didn't sleep in his
apartment.
His landlady doesn't know where
he was or who he was with.
We're checking on his
pals, members of his combo,
and all they give us is
he was quite a ladies man.
They gave us a list, we're
checking that out too.
- Look, let me break the
story and we'll get results.
I don't have to mention anthrax.
What if I just run a picture of
Slater
and the fact that he was found
dead?
- Well, maybe you're right.
- Might scare off whoever
it is we're looking for
if they don't know it already.
- But whoever it was,
wouldn't they have to be
down with anthrax or dead of it?
And wouldn't that be reported
here?
- Yes.
- Maybe they were immune.
- Not to anthrax.
- Why would they ditch a truck
like that
unless they had something to
hide?
It might still be a m*rder rap.
- m*rder isn't all people hide,
Sergeant.
Did you check her out yet?
- Mrs. Helen Fletcher.
- Married, well, that'd be
something to hide, wouldn't it?
- Yeah, we thought of that too.
She was the first one we
rousted.
Thought we were onto something
good.
She was sick for the last few
days.
She was okay today.
Her doctor said she has a
touch of virus pneumonia.
She said she didn't
even know Harry Slater.
- I suppose you took her word
for it?
- Of course not, we're
double-checking.
It's a long list. It takes time.
- Anyways, she had virus
pneumonia, not anthrax.
- Did she, Doctor?
- I think I know a case of
incipient virus pneumonia
when I see it, Doctor.
That's what Mrs. Fletcher had.
And I might just add that within
she has enjoyed a complete
recovery.
- Did you happen to use
penicillin in her treatment?
- I always do in these
pulmonary infections.
- Well, you cured her,
Doctor, but not of pneumonia.
You cured her of anthrax.
[dramatic music]
- Will you please leave me
alone?
I don't have to answer your
questions.
You're not a cop.
- Mrs. Fletcher, did
the cops you did talk to
tell you what k*lled Harry
Slater?
- No, why should they?
I told them exactly what I'm
telling you.
I don't know anybody named
Slater.
- Mrs. Fletcher, you had the
same disease
yourself yesterday morning.
Now you told the officers
you were off sick
for several days, but you
weren't.
You didn't get sick until
yesterday.
Before that, you were with
Slater.
- Get out of here.
- Okay, lady.
Whatever it is you're hiding,
I'm sure it isn't as bad as
m*rder.
And unless you help me,
that's exactly what you're
gonna be guilty of, m*rder.
Now you think that over.
- Doctor.
You are a doctor, aren't you?
I mean a regular doctor, an MD.
- Yes, mam.
- Well, then anything I told you
would be in confidence, wouldn't
it?
I mean If I wanted it to be.
- No, Mrs. Fletcher,
you're not my patient.
But I think you better tell us
anyway.
- I was with Harry over the
weekend.
We went to Mexico.
On the way back, he got sick,
awful sick.
He asked me to drive,
and he laid down in the back of
the truck.
I don't know when he got out or
fell out
or whatever happened.
I wasn't feeling very well
myself.
Well, when I saw he was gone,
well,
there wasn't any sense in
turning back.
I knew he must have been found
by then.
What could I have done?
- Nothing as it turned out.
He was dead before he fell.
Mrs. Fletcher, what'd you
bring back from Mexico?
- Nothing, just the luggage, two
bags.
I took mine when I left the
truck.
Harry's was still in the back.
- Was there anything else?
- No.
Oh, oh yeah, the bongo drum.
Funny, I'd forgotten about that
till now.
- A bongo drum?
- It was in the back with the
luggage,
but later it was gone.
- When did you get it?
- In Mexico.
Harry bought it.
He played drums, you know.
Harry seemed to think it
was something special.
- It was.
What store did it come from?
- Oh, it didn't.
He bought it from a
peddler on a street corner.
He said it was all
handmade out of the hide
of a belly of a dead burro.
- Well, that peddler is probably
as dead
as that burro by now.
Mrs. Fletcher, we're gonna
have to burn all the clothes
you wore on that trip.
And I want a list of
everybody you've been near
since you got back.
- What about my husband?
- What about him?
- Well, he was out of town,
but he got back yesterday.
Will he have to know?
- He'll have to get the
penicillin, yes.
- Doctor, I'd like to
explain to you about Harry.
- Mrs. Fletcher, I'd better get
moving.
I'm County Health Department,
not Court of Domestic Relations.
- I know.
It's just that it was all so
crazy.
I don't want my marriage to
break up.
- Mrs. Fletcher, does your
husband know about the
pneumonia?
- [Mrs. Fletcher] Yes.
- Where is he?
- At his office.
- Okay, I'll give him
the penicillin myself.
I'll tell him you had some
highly contagious form
of pneumonia, non fidelis
pneumonia,
and that's why he's being
inoculated.
- Thanks.
- Get on that radio of
yours and tell Boyle
to start looking for a bongo
drum.
It's time to get Huntziger
started, too,
and all the rest of the news
outlets.
- Hey, Doc, what's non fidelis
pneumonia?
- No such disease.
Non fidelis is Latin for
unfaithful.
[dramatic music]
- Sure, Doctor, we'll cut it in
on our half hour station breaks
and feature it on our
next complete newscast.
- Yes, but just make it clear
that the one we're looking for
is handmade and has no brand
name on it.
The last time we put out
a bulletin like this,
it was on tularemia.
We darn near had to vacate the
premises.
Tularemia, well that's a rabbit
fever.
And everybody left their pet
rabbits here for observation.
You know what rabbits are like.
Thank you, we appreciate it.
Thank you.
[intercom buzzing]
Yes, Miss Nelson.
- [Miss Nelson] Dr. Dana is on
two.
- Thank you.
Yes, Doctor?
- Yeah, it's anthrax all
right, but he'll pull through.
He was lucky those punks broke
some ribs
and put him in the hospital,
if you can call that luck.
No, he doesn't remember anything
about 'em
except there was just two
and they were only kids.
No, no, I don't know if he
had any contacts earlier.
But he was really loaded.
I'm going on the assumption
he got it from the punks.
You know, getting mugged
is a nice, close contact.
I got Sergeant Boyle on the
alert
for two sick teenage hoods.
And I could use Abrams and
Mackey as soon as they finish
with Mrs. Fletcher's contacts.
Yeah, from here on out,
this thing's gonna spread
like a brush fire until
they find that bongo.
Yes, sir.
Yes, I'll hang on.
- Yes?
Oh yes, Dr. Miller.
Yes, I'll send Dr. Dana over
right away.
That was your friend
Miller over at the morgue.
He's got another one for you.
- Hitting a telephone pole in
a hot rod is what k*lled him,
but look at that face.
You've got me looking for
anthrax
in every stiff they wheel in
here.
Did a microscopic section of
him,
and there they were, bacillus
anthracis.
Direct cause of death, broken
neck.
Indirect cause, anthrax.
Witnesses said he was driving
like he was drunk or delirious.
- Not this suit, Doc.
I protected myself this time.
I also got Doc Miller
to give me another shot
of that penicillin.
- You think that might be one of
the kids
that rolled the drunk?
- I wouldn't be surprised,
he's got a record.
His name is Douglas Lynch.
Pals around with another
young punk named Gordon Sykes
who's really got a record.
- If that's our boy, we
better find him fast.
- I checked his house,
but he ain't been there
for a couple of days.
Folks say they don't know where
he is.
Probably true.
Not knowing where little Gordie
is
probably makes little Gordie
what he is.
- Any other leads?
- Not yet.
The hot rod was registered
in the name of Alf Colton.
No record, lives with his old
man.
We called the house,
but there was no answer.
We called him at work.
He says he doesn't know how
the other kid got the car.
All he knows is his kid's in
school.
[phone ringing]
- County morgue.
- Well, that's all we need
is a school full of anthrax.
- Sergeant Boyle.
- No, no, no.
- Okay.
- If you're gonna do anything,
go down to the school.
- While you're there,
get a full description
and send out an APB.
- He might be there. He
might have it for all I know.
And then come back and check the
wire.
- Well, you can stop
worrying about the school.
The kid's not there.
I better go and have another
talk with his old man.
- The sergeant said when he
called the Colton kid's house
there was no answer.
I was just wondering, maybe
that kid's too sick to answer.
[dramatic music]
[glass shattering]
- Get that penicillin kit
and call an ambulance.
Now take it easy, kid, I'm a
doctor.
You're gonna be okay.
- I'm dying.
- No, not anymore you're not.
Now listen, you gotta answer
a couple questions fast.
- I can't talk.
- You just keep trying.
We're looking for a bongo,
that's what made you sick.
A bongo drum, do you know
understand?
- I didn't take it.
- [Dan] Haven't you got it?
- Gordie.
- We don't care who took it.
Where is it?
- Gordie.
- Gordie, where's Gordie?
- Gordie took it, Gordie.
- Has he still got it?
- I don't know.
- Where can we find him?
- The beach, the pad.
- The pad, where's that?
- It's at the beach.
- What beach?
What beach?
- Devil's Cove.
- You know where Devil's Cove
is?
- Yeah.
- He said they got a pad there.
- Ain't no houses at Devil's
Cove.
- Where at Devil's Cove, where?
- Rocks, the rocks.
- Yeah, there are plenty of
rocks.
He could be holed up there.
- I see, how about that
ambulance?
- It's on its way.
- There's not much more
I can do for him here.
We gotta find that other kid.
Take it easy, fella.
[dramatic music]
[siren blaring]
[g*nsh*t banging]
- [Gordie] Go away!
- We want to help you!
You're sick, aren't you?
- Never mind me being sick.
You come any closer, you're
gonna be dead.
- Gordie, I'm a doctor.
If you don't let me help you,
you'll die.
- You're a cop!
[g*nsh*t banging]
- You want me to use this, do
you, Doc?
- You don't sound like you want
to.
- No, I'm not much for sh**ting
kids.
He can't see us up here.
Maybe I can get to him.
- Maybe we both can.
- No, Doc, it's not worth the
risk.
- You were gonna take it.
If he's as sick as I think he
is,
he won't be sh**ting too
straight.
[dramatic music]
[g*nsh*t banging]
Gordie!
This isn't a g*n, it's
penicillin!
And you've got to have it fast!
[dramatic music]
Are you sure Pasteur started
like this?
Boy am I gonna sleep in tomorrow
morning.
- I'm afraid not.
Tomorrow morning, the
little Benson girl is due in
for her third anti-rabies shot.
Oh, by the way, Sergeant
Boyle's home sick.
He wants you to recommend
him a good doctor.
- What, anthrax?
- Penicillin rash.
[swelling orchestral music]
- This is the end of tonight's
play.
For those whose appetite for
entertainment is not yet sated,
we have another commercial.
As for my transistor radio,
it seems to have lost its
enchantment
as far as the medical
profession is concerned.
The hospitals obtained
their own transmitters
and began cutting in on the
broadcast to page the doctors
sometimes right in the middle of
a song
or even a commercial, something
which will never happen
on this program I assure you.
Observe.
[dramatic music]
[Alfred Hitchcock theme music]
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