Original subtitles

(dramatic music) (guns firing)

- Wasn't that a shot?

- Yeah.

Things have been so quiet

I thought something had gone wrong.

- You're the marshal, aren't you going to investigate it?

- Don't have enough police

to investigate every shot at this time of night.

Besides, I'm staying long enough to call your bluff.

- [Jimmerson] Is the city marshal here?

- 100.

- Are you City Marshal Wayne?

- I left it 100.

Yes, what can I do for you?

- I am J. Jimmerson Jones, Incorporated.

- Incorporated? What?

- I wish to report that I have been murdered.

(gentle suspenseful music)

- He has been shot in the head.

Put him in your back room. I'll get a doctor.

♪ California ♪

♪ California ♪

- [Narrator] The Californians.

♪ California ♪

♪ I've come to live where life is best ♪

♪ In the golden West ♪

♪ I'm gonna strike it rich in California ♪

♪ California ♪

- Find out anything?

- As usual nobody heard anything, nobody saw anything.

How is he?

- Well, I just creased him.

- 50,000 in gold.

They took it.

You gotta get it back. (moaning)

(suspenseful music)

- Learn anything?

- Seems dear Mr. Jones doesn't have too many friends,

but I did get a line on him.

Odd job man, sweeper, messenger.

He left town about three months ago.

- Where's your boss, feller?

- [Jim] Why, I'm the boss. Name's Marston.

- I wanna see Jimmerson Jones,

the old boy who was shot last night.

- What'd you wanna see him about?

- Who are you?

- Matthew Wayne, City Marshal of San Francisco

and I asked you a question.

- My name's Jackson, Pack Jackson.

Jimmerson and me, we prospected up near Tulament last year.

He ain't gonna die, is he?

- I don't think so. You can go see him.

- Right through that door, turn to your right,

first door to your left.

- Much obliged.

Hey. Hey, wake up, it's me.

- 50,000.

Who?

- Pack Jackson, wake up, wake up.

- $50,000, big round gold dollars.

- Yeah, well tell me who shot ya?

Jimmerson, Jimmerson! Tell me who shot ya?

(Jimmerson moaning)

Too bad.

(somber music)

- Even Jimmerson's best friend said he's a liar.

Claimed he never had more than $5 in his pocket

the best day of his life.

- Somebody took a shot at him for some reason.

- People in this town would shoot you for two bits.

- What are you doing to me?

You will, will you, you hammer-headed baboon.

Insult me, will ya?

- What's all the ruckus?

- What kind of a hotel you running around here anyways?

I been working hard all my life

to get enough money to have breakfast in bed.

Now that I've got it,

that baboon brings me in mush.

Mush and milk toast and an orange.

- What's wrong with that?

- Whiskey's what I want.

Whiskey and flapjacks and a steak.

- Calm down old timer.

This isn't a hotel.

- It ain't, well, what is it?

- This is the back room of my saloon.

- Well, what am I doing in the back room of a saloon?

I'm J. Jimmerson Jones, Incorporated.

- Now, listen, you're only one person.

What gives you the notion you're so many people?

- Well, I'm a corporation.

I'm a valuable piece of property, I am.

I'm worth $50,000.

- So you keep saying.

How are you carrying that $50,000, J.J.?

- Cash. $50 gold pieces.

- $50,000 in $50 gold pieces would weigh as much as you do.

- You must have been carrying

an awfully big poke, Jimmerson.

- (laughs) I wasn't carrying it in no poke, you jackass.

Jenny was a-totin' it.

- Jenny?

- Yeah, my burro.

- You were wandering around town

with a burro-load of gold?

Why?

- Well, because I was delivering it someplace

and I didn't want to get robbed.

Folks would think I was just an old prospector

on his way out of town.

Where is Jenny?

Where's my gold?

- When I put you in bed,

you didn't have a dollar in your pocket.

- What is this, a crib joint?

Help, help, help!

A poor old man's been robbed.

Help me outta here.

- Okay, J.J., take it easy.

I am the City Marshal, Matthew Wayne.

You're not being shanghaied.

Now, you were shot last night.

Remember that?

- Yes, I remember.

I was on my way to the Metropole Hotel

and, what'd they do to Jenny, Marshal?

- I didn't see a burro anywhere.

- $50,000.

Looks like my corporation has done gone bust.

- What do you mean by corporation?

- Well, I found tracings of gold

in a box canyon near Placerville last summer.

I needed money for dynamite and stuff.

Nobody in town believed there was anything there.

Well, exceptin' three friends.

And they took a chance on me.

So I sold them shares in whatever I'd find, 25% each.

Boys, meet the prettiest stockholder, Wilma Fansler.

- Hello.

- I came as soon as I heard.

Oh, you poor dear. Is it bad, Jimmy?

- Well, I'm kind of groggy, that's all.

I did what I said I would, Wilma.

I found a whole nest full of nuggets

and I cashed it in for gold pieces

so we could divide it, but, well, I'm sorry Wilma.

- Oh, the money doesn't matter, Jimmy.

- Would you boys mind if I talked to Wilma in private?

- I couldn't leave you with more charming company, J.J.

- [Jimmerson] I see you got an eye for an ankle, sonny.

(Wilma laughs)

- Who was it? Who robbed you?

- You're mighty pretty, Wilma.

Like a field of daisies on a spring day.

- Jimmy, which one was it?

- Yes, sir. Mighty pretty, closer, closer Wilma.

- Yes, Jimmy.

- It was, it was Pack Jackson. (moans)

- Jimmy.

Jimmy.

- Oh, Miss Fansler?

Did he tell you anything I ought to know?

I'm Matt Wayne, City Marshal.

- If you're a marshal,

why are you hanging around a saloon?

- Waiting for somebody to have a drink with.

What'll you have?

- I don't drink.

Why aren't you looking for the man

who stole Mr. Jones' $50,000.

- I haven't any idea where to look.

Besides, how do you know he had $50,000?

- Jimmy wouldn't lie, not to me.

Besides the money isn't the important thing right now.

I want Jimmy to get well.

He was a friend of my late husband's.

- Oh, then it's Mrs. Fansler.

- Would two or $300 help?

- Well, the only medicine he'll drink is whiskey

and his host owns this saloon.

You must be pretty well fixed, Mrs. Fansler.

- Well enough, so I'm more worried

about Mr. Jones' health than his money.

Do you conduct all your business

in this saloon, Marshal?

- A saloon is a good place to hear things.

And to meet people, like I just met you.

Jimmerson said that he wanted to talk to you alone.

Are you sure he didn't say anything that I ought to know?

- I'm sure, Marshal.

And if you'll excuse me,

I find the atmosphere in here quite disturbing.

- Yes, it does smell of whiskey, doesn't it.

(suspenseful music)

- Reb, I'm being followed.

(dramatic music)

(blows thudding) (men grunting)

(suspenseful music)

(knuckles rapping)

- Better tell your watchdog to distinguish

between friend foe, Mrs. Fansler.

- Oh, that was Reb.

He looks after me.

Keeps out unwelcome visitors.

I've been annoyed before by strangers

who took advantage of my being a widow

by trying to force their attentions on me.

- Oh? But we're not strangers.

We have a lot in common.

We're both friends and well-wishers of J. Jimmerson Jones.

- Nevertheless, I'll have to ask you to leave, Marshal.

- Can I join the others?

- What others?

Well, I have to make a living.

Come on in.

Make yourself at home.

Boys, we have a added starter.

Meet Matt Wayne, City Marshal.

- Game is over gentlemen, the place is raided.

- What?

- It's unlicensed and it's out of bounds.

Are you gentlemen leaving

or would you like a quick dip in our municipal bucket?

(coins rattling)

- Marshal, are you closing me down?

- Not at all.

When I gamble, I like privacy, that's all.

I'll buck the house. Blackjack?

- You named it.

I've heard you're quite a gambler.

- I do my best thinking with cards in my hand.

Relaxes me.

- Tell me, Marshal, what made you suspect

I wasn't all I tried to make you think I was?

- When you opened your purse in the saloon,

I noticed three decks of playing cards.

Special kind of playing cards.

Readers we call them.

King of spades, deuce of diamonds,

Jack of hearts.

- Well, well, seems to me you know too much

about marked cards to be strictly

on the level yourself.

- I've been around.

So you did need money.

Enough to cheat at cards.

- Not enough to kill Jimmy

if that's what you're getting at.

- Why don't you tell me the truth.

What did Jimmerson say?

- Jimmy just mumbled, mentioned Pack Jackson.

- [Matt] What'd he say about Jackson?

- Nothing, just mentioned his name.

- Do you know where I can find Jackson?

- I know where I can find him tonight.

- All right, tonight.

- And I promise you this, Mr. Wayne.

Everything'll be half yours.

(suspenseful music)

It's a warehouse, here we are.

He's the night watchman.

Usually he's asleep on the job.

- You seem to know a lot about his habits.

(knuckles rapping)

Jackson, open up!

Jackson!

(suspenseful music)

(shoulder thudding)

(Wilma gasping) (dramatic music)

- Not Pack Jackson. (sighs)

(dramatic suspenseful music)

- Why do you supposed anybody'd do that

to old Pack Jackson?

- A warehouse would be a good place

to hide a burro.

Maybe somebody found him there

with the gold and took it away from him.

- Well, what makes you think old Pack stole the money, son?

- Now wait a minute, didn't you say something

to Wilma Fansler about seeing him there

in the ally the night you were robbed?

- Well, old Pack was a low miserable cuss,

but he wouldn't rob his old friend J. Jimmerson Jones.

I got it, son.

I must have said something about that gold being

in the pack on the burro and Wilma thought I was talking

about old Pack Jackson. (laughing)

- Yes, that's exactly what she does think.

- What you chawing at, son?

Spit it out.

- Where did you change gold nuggets

into 160 pounds of gold pieces?

- Well, that was, it was, mm, don't seem to recollect.

Everything that happened

before and after I was shot, kind of fuzzy.

(laughs) Funny, ain't it?

- If you changed rock gold into coin,

there must be a record of that transaction.

- Why don't you look in my boots, in the closet.

The left one.

You find it?

- Gold purchase form (whistling) $50,000.

- I told you so.

- Signed by Paul Saunders, Montgomery Street Bank.

- Sure, sure, he's a stockholder in me.

- Jimmerson, was he the only one

that knew that you had that gold?

- Well, that's kind of fuzzy, too, son.

All I know is I spent a lifetime of toil getting it.

I wanted to share it with my partners.

All I wanted for myself was enough

to have an easy living like breakfast in bed

and a fine funeral when I cash in my chips.

- You may be able to afford it yet, old timer.

(dramatic music)

- Yes, I made the transaction in my capacity

as vice-president and treasurer of this bank.

Is there anything wrong, Marshal?

- Just this.

As far as I know you're the only one

of the partners that knew Jimmerson

actually had struck gold.

- And your deduction is that I waylaid Jimmerson

in the ally, shot him and made off

with a burro load of gold pieces.

- Yes, that's my general line of thinking.

- Hm, well, there's only one flaw

in your hypothesis, Marshal.

- What's that?

- I wasn't the only one who knew

that Jimmerson had struck it rich.

He notified us all by mail before he came to town.

Jimmerson wanted the division of his bonanza

to be the occasion of a celebration.

He'd written ahead and reserved a room

at the Metropole Hotel, a private banquet room.

The partners were to meet him there for a champagne supper.

- And?

- I was there.

- Who else?

- Pack Jackson was there.

You see, Pack and I would have furnished perfect alibis

for one another.

- Except that Pack is now dead.

- Unfortunately, yes.

But the fact remains

that only two of us showed up at that banquet room.

The Widow Fansler was unaccountably missing.

- Oh. Sorry to hear that.

But it gives me an excuse to pay another call on her.

- She is charming, isn't she?

Give her my warmest regards.

- I will.

(suspenseful music)

- Hello, Matt, oh, you're welcome.

I'm as nervous as a cat. Sit down.

Can I get something for you?

- Mm, no, thanks, Mrs. Fansler.

- We're old friends, call me Wilma.

- You know you have lovely neck,

it'd be a shame to see rope burns on it, Wilma.

- Oh, well, call me Mrs. Fansler.

What are you talking about?

- Why weren't you at the party Friday night?

- What party?

- J. Jimmerson Jones notified the three stockholders

to meet him at the Metropole Hotel.

He was gonna serve champagne, divide the profits.

Saunders was there, Pack Jackson was there.

Why weren't you?

- Oh.

Well, maybe I was lying in wait for Jimmy in the ally.

Maybe I shot him and took his money.

- Mm, that's an interesting theory.

Wouldn't have occurred to me in a million years.

- Well, maybe I went to the warehouse

and beat Jackson unconscious and hanged him,

all with my two bare hands.

- Such lovely hands, too.

- Why would I kill Jackson if I already had the money?

- That's a disturbing thought, why did you?

- Are you actually suggesting

that I killed Jackson all by myself?

- You could have had help.

- I wasn't anywhere near the warehouse.

And I'll tell you why I didn't go to Jimmy's party,

because I didn't know anything about it.

I wasn't invited.

- It's that simple, huh?

- It's that simple.

Maybe there's a reason why I didn't get the invitation.

Maybe someone intercepted it

so it would put the suspicion on me.

- Maybe.

But that does away with my theory that you robbed Jimmerson.

- Well, I certainly hope it does.

And now, do you want to know where I was that night?

I was at my sister's across town and I can prove it.

- Hm, I bet you can.

- Don't you believe me?

- You know there's something about this case.

It's as queer as a Chinese Faro deck.

It's like playing poker with five aces.

- Speaking of poker, I got a new deck of cards.

And I defy you to find the mark on them.

Feel lucky?

- Hm, not today.

- [Wilma] Some other time.

You know, a widow gets awfully lonesome sometimes, Matt.

- I'll remember that Mrs. Fansler.

- Call me Wilma.

(gentle music)

(door thudding)

- How do you feel, Jimmerson?

- Mighty perky, son.

Doc says I'll be out of this bed in two, three days.

How are you making out?

- I'm not making out.

- Well, you just keep chawing at it, son,

something will come up.

- Jimmerson?

Saunders says you planned a champagne party that night.

Remember that?

- I don't recollect, son.

But it sounds like me. (giggling)

If you got a dollar, spend 90 cents.

Live high, wide and handsome.

But save enough money for a fine funeral, I says.

Oh, I'll have a wake they'll mark time by.

Lot of whiskey, gin, beer

and oh, I'll be in a coffin big as a barge,

gold handles and all.

That is if you get my money back, son.

- I'm doing my best.

I wouldn't take that bandage off if I were you.

- Well, the doc says it's all healed.

Only thing that bothers me is that doggone powder burn.

It itches like the dickens.

- Powder burns?

- Matt, would you come out here please?

This note was left under my door.

- The gold was in the warehouse all the time.

It still is.

You wanna make a deal, be there at 10 o'clock.

- I wouldn't think of going there myself.

- I'll go with you. Wanna come along?

- Two's company, I'll stay here.

- Matt, what I said still goes.

Half of everything's yours.

I mean, the money of course.

- Of course.

(suspenseful music)

- Hello?

Hello?

- [Paul] Who's there?

- Wilma. Wilma Fansler.

(gun firing)

- Say something to him.

- Why are you shooting at me?

Who are you?

Why are you shooting at me?

(gun firing)

- [Paul] You won't get it.

I killed once for it.

(gun firing) (dramatic music)

- Saunders. What were you doing here?

- I got a note.

Told me where the gold is.

Box marked triple zero.

- You said you killed for the gold.

You mean you killed Pack Jackson?

- Yes.

He accused me of having Jimmerson robbed.

Tried to kill me.

I beat him to it.

- Who shot you now?

- You.

- No, I couldn't even see you.

- Couldn't see. (groans)

- Shot in the back.

Up close.

Powder burns.

- Poor Paul.

Well, I guess he deserved it.

Let's look for the box with the triple zero.

- There won't be any box.

I know who has that gold now.

I'm new to this marshal business.

I should have been onto him a long time ago.

- Who?

- J. Jimmerson Jones, of course.

He faked that robbery,

hoping that the three of you would kill each other off

to try and get the gold

and he'd wind up with it all himself.

- Oh, I don't believe it.

- No? Almost worked.

He has Jackson out of the way.

Tonight he sends notes to you and Saunders

figuring one will kill the other

and he'll be here to shoot whoever's left.

- But how could he have done that, he's a sick man?

- He faked that, too.

He even fooled the doctor.

- I still don't believe it.

- No.

Let's find Jimmerson.

I'll prove it to you.

- Matt, Jimmerson's disappeared.

- He won't get very far.

(dramatic music)

♪ California ♪

♪ There's gold in them there hills in California ♪

(Jimmerson humming)

- Well, howdy, son.

- Howdy, Jimmerson.

Where are you headed?

- Well, I figured I'd find myself another stake.

- Isn't $50,000 enough?

(Jimmerson giggles)

(coins rattling)

- Beautiful stuff, ain't it, son?

You want some?

A whole hat full maybe?

- Jimmerson, you trying to bribe me?

- You ain't all of a sudden going stupid on me,

are you, son?

Well, of course I'm trying to bribe you.

- I'm afraid you'll have to come along with me.

- What's gonna happen to all that beautiful stuff, son?

- The estates of Jackson and Saunders

will get their share, so will Wilma Fansler.

Not that it'll do you any good,

but you can use your share to hire a good lawyer.

- I worked too hard for that gold

to fritter it away on no lawyer.

I've dreamt all my life of having breakfast in bed.

I had that.

The other thing.

- I know, and I'll see that you get it.

The finest funeral that money can buy.

There'll be enough left for that.

- Thank you, son.

You've got a big heart.

(dramatic music)

♪ California ♪

♪ Oh, I've traveled here, I've traveled there ♪

♪ I guess I've been most everywhere ♪

♪ But I like where I am today ♪

♪ And here is where I'll stay ♪

♪ Now one thing I just can't endure ♪

♪ Is being broke and being poor ♪

♪ So I come West to take the cure ♪

♪ And here is where I'll stay ♪

♪ I've come to California ♪

♪ California ♪

♪ There's gold in them there hills in California ♪

♪ I've come to live where life is best ♪

♪ In the golden West ♪

♪ I'm gonna strike it rich in California ♪

♪ California ♪

♪ California ♪

♪ There's gold in them there hills in California ♪

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