DOC SAVAGE
                            Program Number Eight
                           "Death Had Blue Hands"
                     (Adapted from DOC SAVAGE MAGAZINE)

                                    CAST

DOC SAVAGE.....................Deep cultured voice.
MONK...........................Small, almost ludicrously falsetto voice.
DOROTHY........................Pleasant voice, young.
SMITH..........................Pleasant voice, robust, western drawl.
SHORTY.........................Querulous voice, western drawl.
HOLLOW VOICE AWAY FROM MIKE....Male voice, maybe Doc disguised.

BIZ:        

1--Low-throated bird whistle trilling.
!--Clatter of rock disturbed by man walking.
3--Dull footsteps, maybe on carpet.
4--Blows.
5--Thumping of upset furniture.
6--Door slam.
7--Shot.

Playing Time: 14 minutes.
Script by: Lester Dent (Kenneth Robeson)

EFFECT:      (LOW-THROATED BIRD WHISTLE TRILLING)
DOROTHY:     (SCREAMS) Oh-h-h! What is that sound?
             (PAUSE)
ANNOUNCER:   Ladies and gentlemen, that sound indicates that Cystex is again on
             the air with a thrilling drama from the life of Doc Savage, the man
             of bronze! Doc Savage is a man who has made it his life work to aid
             those who are oppressed, to help those who are in trouble or in
             danger.
             (PLUG)
             Now... here is mystery, menace, terror... and Doc Savage.
EFFECT:      (LOW-THROATED BIRD WHISTLE TRILLING)
DOROTHY:     (IN DISTANCE) (FRIGHTENED) Oh! What is that noise?
MONK:        (MIKE FOLLOWS MONK AND DOC) (LOW AND CLOSE TO MIKE) Gosh, it's dark
             in this canyon! Can you see her, Doc?
DOC:         (LOW AND CLOSE TO MIKE) No, Monk. Not enough light in here.
MONK:        (LOW AND CLOSE TO MIKE) Sounds like she's over this way.
DOC:         (LOW AND CLOSE TO MIKE) Watch out for sage brush.
             (PAUSE)
MONK:        (LOW AND CLOSE TO MIKE) HereÕs the side of the canyon.
DOC:         (LOW AND CLOSE TO MIKE) Take it easy, Monk.
BIZ:         (CLATTER OF ROCKS)
MONK:        (DISGUSTED, CLOSE TO MIKE) Blast that rock!
DOROTHY:     (IN DISTANCE) Who is that?
MONK:        (LOW, CLOSE TO MIKE) She's heard us.
DOROTHY:     (IN DISTANCE) Better answer up, whoever you are! (PAUSE) All right!
             I'm going to turn a few bullets loose.
HOLLOW VOICE
IN DISTANCE: Hold on, young lady; let's talk it over.
MONK:        (LOW, CLOSE TO MIKE) Who's that guy?
DOC:         (LOW, CLOSE TO MIKE) Quiet, Monk.
MONK:        (LOW, CLOSE TO MIKE) There must be four of us in this Wyoming range
             canyon.
DOROTHY:     (IN DISTANCE) You with the froggy voice who are you?
MONK:        (LOW, CLOSE TO MIKE) Yeah who is that other guy?
DOC:         (LOW, CLOSE TO MIKE) Quiet, Monk.
HOLLOW VOICE
IN DISTANCE: This is Doc Savage.
MONK:        (LOW, CLOSE TO MIKE) Why, the black-faced liar!
DOROTHY:     (IN DISTANCE) Doc Savage, you say?
HOLLOW VOICE IN DISTANCE: That's right.
DOROTHY:     (IN DISTANCE) What a relief! I've been waiting for you, Mr. Savage.
HOLLOW VOICE
IN DISTANCE: Who are you, young lady?
DOROTHY:     (IN DISTANCE) I am Dorothy Thomas.
MONK:        (LOW, CLOSE TO MIKE) I'm gonna turn a flashlight on that guy with
             the funny voice, Doc. (PAUSE) There's the light... Huh!... Well,
             what d'you know about that?... There ain't nobody but you and me
             and the girl in the canyon, Doc.
DOC:         Quite so, Monk.
MONK:        But that hollow voice, Doc?
DOC:         Mine, Monk.
MONK:        That voice yours, Doc... Oh, I get it now. You threw your voice...
             used ventriloquism.
DOC:         Exactly. That was just in case the young lady here should take a
             shot at the sound of the voice... But I see the precaution was a
             wasted effort. You haven't got a gun, have you, Dorothy Thomas, or
             whatever your name is.
DOROTHY:     Who are you?
DOC:         I told you--Doc Savage.
DOROTHY:     But that was another voice.
MONK:        That was Doc's voice. He's a crackerjack ventriloquist.
DOROTHY:     And who are you?
MONK:        Me? I'm Monk, Doc's assistant.
DOC:         Now that we know who's who, suppose we get down to facts. You said
             you were waiting for us, Dorothy. A strange place for that, isn't
             it?
DOROTHY:     It's a safer place than some I know.
DOC:         What do you mean by that?
DOROTHY:     Wait a minute... You came here from New York City, didn't you?
DOC:         Yes... by plane. Only landed a few minutes ago.
DOROTHY:     I heard your ship come down on that alkali flat at the mouth of
             this canyon. Saw the landing lights you used, too I had a suspicion
             it was you, so I came out here to meet you.
DOC:         Then I gather that we're near the Boxed-Circle ranch?
DOROTHY:     The Boxed-Circle ranch house is up this canyon about half a mile.
DOC:         Excellent.
DOROTHY:     I've got some bad news.
DOC:         What do you mean?
DOROTHY:     Jud Harmon called you from New York City to Wyoming, didn't he, Mr.
             Savage?
DOC:         Hm-m-m... yes, he did.
DOROTHY:     Mr. Savage, you are a man who has made a life work of helping
             others out of trouble. Isn't that true?
DOC:         Well...
MONK:        Sure, it's the truth. Doc's too dang modest.
DOROTHY:     Mr. Savage, you are aware that Jud Harmon is a wealthy man.
DOC:         I am aware that he is rumored to be wealthy. But the records show
             that he owns no property other than the Boxed Circle ranch.
DOROTHY:     That's easily explained. Jud Harmon is a hoarder. He keeps his
             money in cash--gold, silver and greenbacks.
DOC:         You seem to know a great deal.
DOROTHY:     I ought to. Jud Harmon is my uncle. His sister was my mother. I am
             an orphan and Jud Harmon has taken care of me since I was very
             small.
DOC:         What is this leading up to--the bad news?
DOROTHY:     Yes, the bad news. You see, I know why Jud Harmon summoned you from
             New York.
DOC:         You do?
DOROTHY:     Uncle Jud told me. He was going to turn his entire personal
             fortune, except for a few thousand dollars and the Boxed Circle
             ranch, over to you. The money was to be spent in erecting a
             hospital in Cheyenne. The hospital was to be known as the Jud
             Harmon Memorial Hospital.
DOC:         He could hardly dispose of his money in a more humane fashion.
MONK:        You said it, Doc. This guy must be different than most gold
             hoarders.
DOROTHY:     I think Uncle Jud saved that money in cash for one grand gesture of
             his lifetime. He wanted to slap it down and say: "There it is.
             Build a hospital." It was to be his one bid for fame... it would
             get his name in the newspapers and everything.
DOC:         He picked a worthwhile way of making this splurge.
DOROTHY:     (SOBS) (BROKENLY) Jude--was--a great guy
DOC:         Was? What do you mean?
DOROTHY:     Jud Harmon was murdered early this evening--just after dark, we
             think.
DOC:         Murdered!
DOROTHY:     In the most horrible fashion you ever saw.
DOC:         But what was the motive?
DOROTHY:     You'll understand that when you see the--body.
             (PAUSE)
DOC:         Any idea who did it?
DOROTHY:     None at all.
             (PAUSE)
DOC:         Let us go on to the Boxed-Circle. I want to make an examination.
BIZ:         (DULL FOOTSTEPS WHICH GO AWAY FROM MIKE AND CUT)
             (PAUSE)
BIZ:         (DULL FOOTSTEPS WHICH APPROACH MIKE AND HOLD UNTIL CUE TO CUT)
DOC:         There's a lighted window.
DOROTHY:     That's the Boxed-Circle ranch house.
DOC:         How many cowboys are there?
DOROTHY:     Only two... Shorty and Smith.
DOC:         You suspect either of them of the murder? (LONG PAUSE)... Well, do
             you?
DOROTHY:     Oh, I hate to say when a thing is as serious as this!
DOC:         Miss Thomas! You do suspect one of them. Who is it, Shorty or
             Smith?
DOROTHY:     It's Shorty.
DOC:         What makes you suspect him?
DOROTHY:     Well, I saw him following my uncle secretly.
DOC:         When was that?
DOROTHY:     Yesterday.
DOC:         What did you do about it?
DOROTHY:     I confronted him and asked him what he was doing. He denied that he
             was following Uncle Jud. At the moment, I half believed him.
DOC:         You think he was watching Jud Harmon to ascertain the whereabouts
             of Harmon's hoarded money?
DOROTHY:     (PAUSE) I don't know.
MONK:        Hey, Doc, listen!
BIZ:         (CUT DULL FOOTSTEPS) (DISTANT BLOWS ARE HEARD)
SMITH:       (SHOUTING IN DISTANCE) Take that, and that! (BLOWS)
BIZ:         (CRASHING OF UPSET FURNITURE)
SHORTY:      (SHOUTING IN DISTANCE) Try to frame me, will you! Why you-- (BLOWS)
DOROTHY:     That's Smith and Shorty. They're in the bunkhouse.
MONK:        Sounds like they're bouncin' each other off the walls.
DOC:         Come on!
BIZ:         (RAPID DULL FOOTSTEPS) (DISTANT BLOWS AND CRASHING OF UPSETTING
             FURNITURE GROWS LOUDER) (DOOR SLAM)
DOC:         Here' What's going on!
DOROTHY:     Smith, Smith! Why are you choking Shorty?
SMITH:       He tried to salivate me, the coyote.
SHORTY:      You tried to mess me up first, you pretty-faced buzzard!
MONK:        Don't they like each other! Come on, you guys' Quit huggin' each
             other. Get up off the floor.
SMITH:       You'd better tie Shorty up.
SHORTY:      I didn't do it, I tell you.
DOROTHY:     Do what, Shorty?
SHORTY:      Well, you know... do that to your uncle.
SMITH:       He killed Jud Harmon, all right. I caught the little runt doin'
             somethin' that proves it. Look here.
MONK:        Whew! What a knife!
SMITH:       This knife was used to kill Jud Harmon.
DOC:         How do you know that, Smith?
SMITH:       On account of the wide blade. And you can see the blade is still
             red.
DOC:         Where'd you get it?
SMITH:       Shorty was hidin' it under the tarp of my bedroll.
             (PAUSE)
DOC:         How about that, Shorty?
SHORTY:      I was puttin' the frogsticker under his bed, all right.
DOC:         Why?
SHORTY:      Well, I figured somebody hid it in my warbag, where I found it, and
             Smith seemed the most likely jasper to do that.
DOC:         You don't like Smith.
SHORTY:      (SARCASTIC) Sure, I love him--just like a prairie dog loves a
             rattlesnake.
DOC:         What caused the bad feeling between you two?
SHORTY:      Aw, I don't like the way Smith has been struttin' around Miss
             Dorothy, here.
DOC:         Jealous, Shorty?
SHORTY:      Aw... go butter a biscuit.
DOC:         You three stay here, understand! Monk and I will look at the body
             of Jud Harmon. Where is it?
DOROTHY:     (BROKENLY) In the next room.
DOC:         Come on, Monk.
BIZ:         (FOOTSTEPS) (DOOR SLAM) (PAUSE)
MONK:        (LOW VOICE) Holy smoke! Look, Doc! He was tortured... burned.
DOC:         Yes, Monk. He was tied up, then pinches of gunpowder were put on
             his naked skin and touched off with matches.
MONK:        You can still smell the powder fumes. Not very strong, though.
DOC:         The torture could only have had one purpose, Monk.
MONK:        Guess you're right, Doc. The killer forced him to tell where his
             money was hidden.
DOC:         Exactly.
MONK:        Look at the empty cartridges all over the floor.
DOC:         Let's have a look at one of those. (PAUSE) No fingerprints, I'm
             afraid. They were held in a handkerchief when the lead was twisted
             out. They came from Jud Harmon's cartridge belt, so they're no good
             as clues.
MONK:        I guess that knife outside made the wound that killed him, all
             right.
DOC:         Probably. It just about fits the wound.
MONK:        Ugh! Let's get out of here.
BIZ:         (DOOR SLAM) (PAUSE)
DOROTHY:     What did you find?
DOC:         Jud Harmon was tortured by burning gunpowder on his bare skin,
             before he was stabbed to death.
DOROTHY:     (BROKENLY) I know but did you find anything of value?
DOC:         You mean--anything to identify the murderer?
DOROTHY:     That's what I mean.
DOC:         I think that the fact the slayer used gunpowder to burn his victim
             is our clue.
DOROTHY:     I don't understand.
DOC:         Monk.
MONK:        Yeah, Doc.
DOC:         Go get that suitcase you were carrying.
MONK:        Sure, I left it right outside.
BIZ:         (DOOR SLAM) (PAUSE) (DOOR SLAM)
MONK:        Here it is, Doc.
DOC:         Open her up.
MONK:        Okay.
DOROTHY:     Oh! What is all that stuff?
DOC:         That is Monk's portable chemical laboratory. Monk, in case you
             don't know it, is one of the greatest living chemists.
SHORTY:      He looks like the missing link to me!
MONK:        No cracks about my looks, cowboy, or I'm liable to take a few arms
             and legs off you.
DOC:         Got any paraffin in that assortment of chemicals, Monk?
MONK:        Paraffin? Sure, Doc. Here's some.
DOC:         All right. We'll warm it over this burner warm it just enough that
             it becomes liquid.
SHORTY:      Whatcha doin'?
DOC:         Following your suggestion, Shorty.
SHORTY:      Say, are you loco?
DOC:         Remember when you said--go butter a biscuit, Shorty?
SHORTY:      Yeah... I remember.
DOC:         I'm working along that line.
SHORTY:      I still think you're loco.
DOC:         Know anything about chemistry, Shorty?
SHORTY:      Cows is the only animals I know anything about.
DOC:         Put out your hands, Shorty.
SHORTY:      What's the idea?
DOC:         Do as I say.
SHORTY:      Okay, okay.
DOC:         I'm going to put some of this paraffin on your hands, Shorty. If
             it's too hot, say so.
             (PAUSE)
SHORTY:      It ain't too hot.
DOC:         Good. Now, Miss Thomas, you're next.
DOROTHY:     You're going to put that warm, soft paraffin on my hands?
DOC:         Exactly.
DOROTHY:     Well, all right.
             (PAUSE)
DOC:         Now you, Smith.
SMITH:       I hope this will help you find the killer, Mr. Savage.
DOC:         I hope so, too, Smith. Now, listen, all of you. Let that paraffin
             cool until it becomes a cake. It's almost that cool now, isn't it?
SHORTY:      That on my hands is.
DOC:         Take it off, then. Make a little pile of the paraffin on the table.
SHORTY:      (PAUSE) All right. There you are.
DOC:         The other two of you do the same thing. Make separate piles.
SHORTY:      Say, what's the idea of all this foolishness, feller?
DOC:         I'll explain in a moment. Miss Dorothy, the paraffin off your hands
             is nearest to the table, isn't it?
DOROTHY:     That's right.
DOC:         And yours is in the middle, Smith.
SMITH:       Uh-huh.
DOC:         Now, Monk, I want a solution of di-phenylamine in solution with
             sulfuric acid.
MONK:        I'll get it.
SHORTY:      Die--die--what was that stuff?
DOC:         Just a chemical mixture.
SHORTY:      I sure don't get this, feller.
DOC:         I'll explain. Gunpowder gases are of a nitrogen nature. Such gases
             must have been thrown off, in the smoke of the burning powder, as
             Jud Harmon was tortured. Some of that smoke, or nitrogenous gas was
             certain to have been deposited in the pores of the hands and wrists
             of the one who was torturing Jud Harmon.
SHORTY:      I think I get the idea.
DOC:         Paraffin placed on the skin will absorb some of the deposited
             smoke, or gas, which is probably still present, since the murder
             wasn't committed many hours ago.
MONK:        Here it is, Doc.
DOC:         Good. Now, we will treat each pile of these paraffin fragments with
             this di-phenylamine in solution with sulfuric acid. If nitrogen is
             present, chemical reaction will form blue crystals.
DOROTHY:     Blue crystals!
DOC:         If blue crystals become discernible on this paraffin, it will mark
             the killer. In other words, I am applying a chemical test to learn
             if any one of you has recently had his hands, or her hands, around
             burning gunpowder.
MONK:        Here's a magnifying glass, Doc.
DOC:         Very well, I'll use it on Shorty's pile of paraffin, first.
             (PAUSE)... Hm-m-m. You're cleared, Shorty. Now, Smith is next, and
             if there are no blue crystals...
MONK:        Look out, Doc! He's tryin' to get away!
DOC:         Smith! You're the killer.
MONK:        He's got a gun!
DOROTHY:     (SCREAMS) Oh-h-h!
BIZ:         (SHOT) (BLOWS) (GROAN)
DOC:         Cut it out, Smith. You didn't move quite quick enough.
MONK:        Lemme paste 'im one, Doc. He blame near shot me.
DOC:         No, no, that wouldn't do, Monk. But you can hold him.
MONK:        Lemme have 'im!
SMITH:       Ow-w-w! You big gorilla! You're gonna break my arm!
SHORTY:      Lemme have his other arm to twist on! The rat tried to frame me by
             plantin' that knife in my bunk. Dag nab it! We'll make 'im tell
             what he done with Jud Harmon's money.
DOC:         You gentlemen won't need to bother about that.
SHORTY:      Huh?
DOC:         Smith couldn't very well have gotten Jud Harmon's hoard of
             currency.
SHORTY:      You know where it is?
DOC:         Jud Harmon gave me that information in the course of our
             negotiations concerning the hospital. The money is in the safety
             deposit vault of a Cheyenne bank, and has been there for some time.
SHORTY:      Well, I'm gonna hand this maverick one good poke to pay 'im back
             for tryin' to frame me.
MONK:        Hop to it, Shorty. I'll hold him.
DOC:         Cut that out, you two.
MONK:        Aw-w-w-w... okay, Doc.
ANNOUNCER:   Doc Savage did not take long, thanks to his vast fund of scientific
             training, to solve the mystery of who killed Jud Harmon. There is
             something of the miraculous about the way this bronze man works.
             There is also something miraculous about the way Cystex works.
             (PLUG)
             Listen in next week at for another dramatized episode from the life
             of Doc Savage. These dramas are presented with the permission of
             Street and Smith, copyright owners of Doc Savage Magazine.