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Would you hand me that please? Thank you. Now, let's see. Survey. Survive. Susanna. Suspect. Ah, here we are. Suspense. Meaning held in doubt, expressing doubt. The state of being uncertain, undecided or insecure. State of anxious expectation or waiting for information such as to keep one in suspense. Therefore delay acquainting him with what he is eager to know. Suspense. Hello and welcome to the 400th episode of Stars on Suspense. Today, to mark the occasion, I'm sharing some of my favorite episodes from the first decade of radio's outstanding theater of thrills. But before we dive in, I want to thank you for your support over these past 400 episodes. Whether you're a first time or a long time listener. Thank you for joining me. As we celebrate what I think is one of the best shows to emerge from the golden age of radio and also as we celebrate the legendary stars who lent their voices to these classic stories, it does my heart good to see that old time radio is still appreciated in 2025. And I appreciate you joining me week after week as we enjoy and discover these shows. And speaking of shows, let's get on with this one as I share five of my favorite favorite episodes from the 1940s run of suspense. Now some of these may not make it onto any official best of lists, but they're some of my personal favorites and I hope you'll enjoy them too. First up is the two part adaptation of Kurt Siodmak's Donovan's Brain starring the great Orson Welles. Now, suspense rarely presented two part stories, so this was a big deal when it aired on May 28 and May 25, 1944. Not only was it a two part story, but it featured Orson Welles in his final appearances on the show after he was one of the first big name actors to guest on the program. And in a departure from typical suspense fare, Donovan's Brain was a story of science fiction and horror, a far cry from the typical tales of murder mystery and intrigue. Despite it being an atypical production in many respects, I think it's among the best shows suspense ever produced and it's been a long time favorite after that it's you'll never see me again from September 5, 1946. Adapted from a story by Cornell Woolrich and and starring one of TV's classic dads, Robert Young of Father Knows Best and later Marcus Welby, M.D. young stars as a man whose wife storms out of the house after an argument and then disappears when he learns she didn't go to her parents house as planned. Young and a sympathetic cop embark on a frantic search to find her before it's too late. Cornell Woolrich's stories made for great suspense episodes. Others include Diamond Dance and the Night Reveals, both classics. But this production of youf'll Never See Me Again has always been my favorite, with an against type performance from Robert Young and a climax that nearly 80 years after it aired still manages to get under your skin. Then we'll hear the man who Thought He Was Edward g. Robinson from October 17, 1946. And appropriately enough, it stars Edward G. Robinson. He plays a dual role here, both as himself and as his milquetoast doppelganger, a mild mannered man whose humdrum life is infused with excitement when he discovers his resemblance to the big screen star. Robinson is great in his double roles and the scenes where he talks to himself are a highlight. But I really love this episode for the way it successfully balances comedy with thrills, something suspense did very well without sacrificing either element of the story up. Fourth is Lazarus walks from Halloween, October 31, 1946, with Brian Donlevy as the lead. Now, Brian Donlevy isn't one of my favorite actors when it comes to radio performances. I think he's pretty wooden in his spy adventure show Dangerous Assignment. But oddly enough, he stars in two of my favorite suspense episodes, Lazarus Walks, which we'll hear today, and out of Control, which I almost picked for today, but I wanted to have some variety in the stars we were featuring. Somehow Don Levy's shortcomings at the microphone work for his character here. He plays an aloof psychiatrist who takes on a strange new patient. It's a man who died on the operating table before being revived and who came back with the odd ability to instantly tell when someone is lying. The patient is played by the great Hans Conreid, while one of those classic you may not know his name, but you probably know his voice, among his better known vocal performances is Captain Hook from Disney's Peter Pan. It's a slightly supernatural premise for the normally down to earth suspense, just like Donovan's Brain, but it's a great episode. And finally today we'll hear Lucille Ball before we all loved her on TV in a little piece of rope from October 14, 1948. She plays a woman who makes a very good, albeit dishonest, living by enticing men to give her a lift and then knocking them out and robbing them. But with her latest mark, she gets more than she bargained for. She discovers the man she's just knocked unconscious is the Strangler, the wanted killer who's been preying on women in her city. But she can't turn him into the police without turning herself in. So she decides to set a trap to catch him herself. Lucille Ball is terrific, as she always was in her appearances on Suspense. But so is Barry Kroger, who plays the Strangler. Kroger was a great radio character actor. He was the voice of the man in Black in the earliest episodes of Suspense. And he had a rich, velvety voice that could play both suave and psychotic. He was a great radio villain, and he's perfectly creepy as the Strangler. Plus, this one has my single favorite suspense ending of all time. Now let's celebrate 400 episodes of Hollywood legends in radio thrillers with my five favorite suspense shows from the 40s. And we'll kick things off with Orson Welles. In the two part adaptation of Donovan's Brain. Roma Wines presents Suspense. Roma wines made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Salud. Your health, senor. Roma wines toast the world. The wine for your table is Roma wine made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is the man in Black, here to introduce this weekly half hour of Suspense. Tonight from Hollywood, we bring you a star, Mr. Orson Welles. This will be the first of two consecutive performances by Mr. Welles in which he will appear as the protagonist of Kurt Siodmak's novel, Donovan's Brain. The producer of Suspense and its sponsors, the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California, feel that this story is so unusual that it merits more than our usual time. So, in somewhat of a departure from established radio formulas, we will bring you the story of Donovan's Brain in two parts. Part one you will hear tonight, and Part two next Monday night at this same time. Before we take you to the scene of our drama, let's take a little journey of a different kind. We'll let a bottle of Roma wine serve as Aladdin's lamp. I touch the label and presto. We are all transported to that capital of gaiety, Havana, Cuba. And now we find ourselves in the charming Pan American club. At a table nearby, an American has just voiced his delight at the uncommon beauty of the scene. Then his Cuban companion responds. You in America also have much that is uncommon to boast of. Such as this marvelous tasting wine we are enjoying this minute to enjoy. Uncommon fine quality. Cuba imports this wine from your own distant California. It is your superb Roma wine. Now just realize what it means when other countries import Roma wines from such great distances. Such international esteem must mean that Roma wines are truly magnificent in quality. Then consider this. You here in America need pay no high import duty, no expensive shipping charges for these fine Roma wines come from Roma's own wineries in the heart of the rich California wine grape districts. Because so many Americans do realize this good fortune, Roma wines are America's largest selling wines. So why deny yourself this taste delight? Try an inexpensive bottle of tangy, appetizing Roma sherry, or the hearty Roma Burgundy, or any of the marvelously enjoyable Roma wines. But remember, these days, your favorite dealer may be temporarily out of the type you prefer. Then please try again. Ask for R O M a Roma wines made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. And now with part one of Donovan's Brain, and with the performance of ORSON WELLES As Dr. Patrick Corey, we again hope to keep you in suspense. As I sit now outside my laboratory door, writing under the heading Experiment 87, this final entry in my case book. I know that these are the last words I shall ever write upon this earth. I neither ask nor expect forgiveness now or hereafter. But for those who seek some explanation, I refer them simply to this casebook. Let them read it carefully from its first entry on that ill starred day. July 13th. July 13th. Today I bought a small capuchin monkey from an organ grinder. The animal trembled with fear when I took it into my laboratory. And when I tried to pet it, it bit me. I had to make it trust me completely. Fear causes an excess secretion of adrenaline resulting in an abnormal condition of the bloodstream which would throw off my observations. So I fed it. And finally the. The creature voluntarily crept up into my arms, uttering little whimpers of content. When it laid its head against my shoulder. I stabbed it, the surgical lancet. It died instantly. Well, David, what do you think of it? Well, it's pretty amazing. All right. See what I've done, don't you? I. I think so. You think so? Good Lord, don't you know? Well, after all, dad, I'm only a second year medical student anyway. What of it? I was a second year student. Who is it? It's me, Janice. Come in, darling. Patrick, Dr. Schrott is here to see you. Oh, come on in, Doctor. You know our son, David, of course. Yes, of course. How are you, my boy? Fine, thanks, doctor. Well, Patrick, Hard at it as usual, I see. Patrick, you didn't eat the lunch I sent in to you. What is it this time, Patrick? A brain. What? A brain. A brain. A monkey's brain. Oh, what about the brain? Patrick, I've been trying to see how long I can keep the tissue alive. Is that it? There's considerably more to it than just a jar, though. Want to see how it works? Is it still alive? In a way, yes. It's a fairly simple device, actually, Doctor. Variation corrals mechanical heart. The brain lies in a bath of blood serum. These rubber arteries affixed to the vertebral and internal carotid arteries of the brain. The blood substance is forced through the cycle of Willis feed. The tissue. Over here, I've installed a small rotary pump that forces the blood circulation. You see. But how do you. No, it's a lie. It's very easy to determine. The brain, when functioning, gives off infinitesimal electrical impulses. They can be measured. As a matter of fact, I've hooked the encephtrograph up to a small amplifying system. The brain impulses can actually be heard. Here, I'll turn it on. See? Quite effective, isn't it? Yes, it's effective and it's. It's wrong, Patrick. Terribly wrong. I've tried to. Tell him, Dr. Schrutt. In heaven's name, what's wrong with this? Oh, Patrick. You and your mechanistic philosophy. Trying to reduce life to a mere matter of chemicals and test tubes. The origin of life is from a higher domain than that, Patrick, and you're profaning nonsense. You can't stop the progress of science. Every discovery of whatever kind, is a step forward. If I can prove that the brain can perform certain functions outside the body, who knows where we may be able to go from there? Oh, Patrick, how. How do you know that thing in there doesn't feel? How do you know it isn't writhing in agony? Brain tissue itself is insensitive. You know that. Just a feeling. Look, I'll switch on the encephalograph. See? There. Notice the faintness of the amplified alpha rays. Notice the comparatively slow rate of pulsation. Now notice what happens when I tap on the glass jar. See? It feels. It thinks. I wouldn't go so far as to say that. But it certainly shows marked reaction to an external stimulus. I wouldn't have believed it possible. The trouble with you, Schrot, is that you don't really believe in science. Have it your own way, Patrick. That's when you can manufacture love and sympathy and kindness in a test tube. I'll be back. You leaving, old boy? Yes, Patrick. H. Do me a favor, Patrick. Shut off the pump and let that poor thing in there die. Let it die. If it were within my power to grant that little brain would live forever. July 18th. I'm utterly exhausted from lack of sleep at the events. The past five days have been of such tremendous importance. That I must set them down while every last detail is still fresh in my mind. I've had no time to make an entry in this record since that day last week. It seems a month ago now, and I had my first partial success with the brain of the capuchin monkey. That time, however, it seemed that I was doomed to disappointment. In spite of all my efforts, the brain of the monkey ceased to live. At 12:14 that night, tired and disheartened, I lay down to sleep on the cart in my laboratory. But at that very moment, fate was contriving an occurrence which now seems destined to have the most profound effect not only upon my own existence, but perhaps upon that of all mankind. Huh? Hello. What is it, dad? Oh, David, Come in, come in. What's the matter? It's Dr. Schrott. There's been an accident or something. He's pretty upset. All right, I'll come. Patrick. Patrick, thank heavens. My boy. What's the matter? There's been a plane crash on the mountain. Only one of them was left alive, and I've brought him this far. But he needs an immediate operation. Sorry. That's your job. Your county physician. Patrick, it's multiple fractures of both legs. The arteries are seven. The legs will have to be amputated. You're not in any shape to do the job. Well, I. Well, that's not my fault. Take him to the Phoenix Hospital. I'm not going to take responsibility. We'd never get there in time. Patrick, please. It made me in a man's life. And your job as county physician. No, no, I'm not thinking of that. But it's an important man. William H. Donovan. Donovan? The Wall Street Donovan? Yes. You've got to help me. Bandrick Donovan. What his chances about even if we hurry. Well, bring him in. Oh, thank you, Patrick. Thank you. You'd better get some things on, David. You may have to help. Yes, and we use the laboratory table. Before you go, put the instruments in the sterilizer. Now, don't forget the GD Saw. Right. Oh, but. But what? I thought the G. Lee saw was only used for brain surgery. Not always. Hurry. They're bringing me now from the car. Okay, dad. In here. That's right. Easy, dad. Around the table, please. Yes, Doctor. Easy. You better get yourself a gown and gloves, Doctor. Right over there. You won't have time to scrub. Yes. Thanks, Doctor. Bad, isn't he pulse rapid, heart very faint. I wasn't sure. David. CC of adrenaline, David. One to 1000 into Venus. Right. You men can go now. Is there anything else? No, thank you. Patrick, don't you think rather we were alone? If you don't mind, gentlemen. Good night then. Dr. Shrad. Doctor. Good night now. David. David, if you remove the blanket from his legs. That's it. You see, Fortunately, a forest ranger got to him right after the crash. Had sense enough to put a tourniquet on each leg. Even so. Yeah, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure. We'll get it. Sure, sure, sure. What's he saying? Something like, sure, sure, sure. He said it over and over. I haven't realized he was deformed. It doesn't show as much in his pictures. Patrick, don't you think we ought to begin? Well, there's no use amputating those legs. No use. He'll be dead anyway by morning. Well, won't it? Well, I suppose you're right, Patrick. You know I'm right. But still, we ought to try. We can't refuse to operate. Justice. We are going to operate. Syringe, please, David. The large one. Here you are, dad. Smile. Anesthetic. Will you give it, Dr. Shrug. Right. Scalpel, please, David. Scalpel and jeeliesaur. Giglisaw. Patrick. Well, no, no, no, Patrick, I won't let you after your performance tonight. Well, I. But, Patrick, he's still alive. Precisely. My mistake with the monkey was that he was dead. I don't intend to make that mistake again. Come on, David. The scalpel. Are you out of your mind? You're taking a man's life. I'm giving him life. Donovan would die anyway. But for a while, at least, Donovan's brain will live. We better hurry. They'll be coming for the body pretty soon. You can go now, David. I think I will. Then you understand. Of course I understand. Not a word. Not a word to your mother or to anyone. I understand. Did you put something in the skull cavity so the eyes won't fall? I filled it with cotton, bandaged the whole cranium. It looked like any head injury. I hope nobody gets any ideas about an autopsy. You're the coroner. You can stop there. Look, Schrads, this is a chance that comes once in a lifetime. William Donovan had one of the greatest minds. Has one of the greatest brains in the world today. And now you have it. It's turn on the encephalograph. Simple arm, of course. No different from the monkeys. You can't take a human brain out of Its body and expect it to function. I suppose not, but. Trot. Did it ever occur to you that the brain might simply be asleep? Asleep? Certainly. An operation like that is a severe shock. Tap on the glass. Good Lord, Patrick. Delta waves. It was asleep. You woke it up. It's actually conscious. Easy. See? The three of us. Three of us conducting this experiment now. You, me, and William Horace Donovan. July 25. I moved my bed into the laboratory, but I've scarcely slept in six days. Be no longer any doubt at the brain responds like a sensitive seismograph to vibrations near it, including the sound of my voice. Yet I found no method of communication with it. I've devised a simplified Morse code consisting of taps on the glass container together with voice vibrations. Perhaps. Perhaps I can teach the brain. July 30. Schrot has come to. Half out of a feeling that he shares with me, a common guilt, Half out of scientific curiosity. I've scarcely seen him, and both David and Janice have been avoiding me. Not that I really care. He's been tapping out my code on the side of the brain's container endlessly, day and night, over and over a thousand times so that a baby could learn it. If the brain can learn. I sleep only when the brain itself falls into exhausted slumber. When it wakes again, I resume my tapping. Trot. Trot. Wake up. Come on. Get up. Hurry. Come on. I want to show you something. Yes, old boy. I want to show you something. Patrick. You look like a ghost. Where are we going? Back to the laboratory. I can't believe it myself. I may have been dreaming, delirious. What's happened? Come on. You hear that? Delta weight. Hey. It seems disturbing. You've got to check my observations for me. If my reasoning is wrong, tell me. I can't be sure of anything anymore. Now listen carefully. You know that I've been trying to communicate with the brain in code. Now, if I were able to cause a distinctive pattern of the brain's delta waves by a specific command in code, if the brain responded with the same pattern of sound each time I issued the command, it would prove that I'd succeeded in communicating with the brain, wouldn't it? Yes, Wedvick. I think it would. Now listen, Donovan. Donovan. If you understand, think three times of the word talk. Three times. Talk. Talk. Talk. It answered. It spoke. Then I'm right. It's true. This thing has learned to talk. To talk. July 31. Schott is romanticizing, of course. The delta pattern is so infinitely complex that it'd be utterly impossible Ever to break it down into specific words. Yet that it understands me, that it's trying to communicate with me is certain. Schratt suggests mental telepathy. That I try to make my mind a blank, as the mediums call it, while at the same time increasing the energy content of the plasma that feeds the brain. In the hope of stepping up the brain's electrical potential is one with step up the power of a radio station. Naturally, telepathy is nonsense, but the feeding theory intrigues me. I shall try it. August 12th. Notice today, for the first time, two distinct nodules of new brain cells on the frontal lobex. Electrical potential is increased to 510 microvolts. I. I've begun smoking cigars. Although I've always hated cigars before. Nerves, I expect. August 22nd. Nodules still growing electrical potential 1450. But no observable results. Lately, felt a compelling urge to know more of Donovan's life. Have collected every available scrap of information about him. Strange man, he was. Strange. Ruthless, actually. Evil in many ways, but nonetheless an extraordinarily brilliant mind. Sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure. It will be the test. You agree? Of course. Sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure. Cedric, Wake up. Huh? Patrick, what is it? What happened here? I thought I ought to wake you up, Patrick. You were moaning in your sleep. Talking. Talking What I say? I'm not sure, but your voice was so strange that. Janice. Janice, what's the matter? It's nothing. Nothing. I was dreaming, that's all. Janice woke me up. Patrick, let me see your hand. My hand? What are you saying? No, the other one. What about it? You're not left handed, are you? No. Then why have you got ink on the fingers of your left hand? Well, I don't know. Were you writing anything tonight? No. You must have been. Patrick. Here it is, right here on your desk. Nonsense. Wait, let me see it. You've been writing his name. William H. Donovan. H. Donovan Schrodt. That's not my handwriting. It's What? Don't you see what it means? The brain has communicated with me. Patrick, you don't. Look here. Look at this magazine article. Here's a reproduction of his signature. And he was left handed too. It says so here. Why, it is. It is exactly the same. What a fool I've been. Look at this picture. Smoking a cigar with his left hand. I wondered why it suddenly started smoking cigars. The same brand too. Janice, try to remember what you heard me saying just before you woke me up. Come on, Janice, think. Patrick, I can't believe. Think, Janice. All I heard was something like, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure. Of course. Don't you remember Schratt? He said it that night. It was the only thing we ever heard him say. It was an expression of his. It tells about that in one of the articles, too. Yes, there it is. It wasn't your voice, Patrick. My voice? You see, the brain has grown, and it's strong enough to influence not only the higher functions, the frontal lobe, but the speech centers, the motor centers of another brain. Patrick, if this is true, then your experiment has been successful. It's ended. Ended? It's only begun. Patrick, don't you see what this means? Patrick, listen to me. Oh, what? Janice Watts, you've got. Stop. Stop. I can't stand it any longer. Can't you see where it's led you? When you cut yourself off from your family, when you neglected your health, began having fits of temper and were like. Like someone I hardly recognize as the man I married. All that I tried to understand. But don't you see what you've done? You are a murderer, Patrick. A murderer. Janice, darling, he told me the whole thing. That poor boy is half insane himself from worry. Insane? What do you mean by that? What I say. You killed Donovan. Maybe he wouldn't have lived anyway, but you killed him. And now this. This thing has gained such power over your mind that it can make you do things you don't even know about. For all you know, it could make you do anything. Anything. You've got to choose, Patrick. Oh, Janice, please. I suppose you're right. But I'm utterly exhausted. I can't even think anymore. You've got to think. Give me until tomorrow. Let me sleep, and then tomorrow I'll do something. I promise you. All right, Patrick. Tomorrow. But if you don't do something, if you don't destroy that thing, I will. The brain. It's almost as though it hurt you. And we're raging, raging at you. This way, please, Doctor. Come on, darling. But, Patrick, why are we going in here? A psychiatric clinic? I told you I'd do something. Janice, I. I've got an idea. You mean you're. You're having yourself psychoanalyzed? Well, something like that. Something like that. I'll tell you about it later. First, I want. I want you to talk to this man alone. Dr. Zanger, this is Dr. Corey. Oh, how do you do, Dr. Corey? I heard some things of your work. Oh, yes, and this is Mrs. Corey, of course. Excuse me. I'm happy to meet you, Mrs. Corey. Thank you, Doctor. Won't you come in to my office. I will, certainly. Janice, would you mind Danny waiting in the reception room and be out in just a moment? Thank you. Why, certainly do. In here, please, Doctor. Farewell, Doctor. She seems quite normal. I'd expected from what you told me on the telephone. I know, I know. I can assure you. I hate to tell you this, but, Doctor, she's quite insane. I see. Yes. Paranoia. She's always been, you know, jealous of my work. And, well, last little while she started. She's got a delusion that she thinks I've made some kind of a monster up in my laboratory. It controls my mind and controls my actions. So I'm putting her completely in your hands. Well, it's, of course, a little unusual, but since you are yourself a medical man. That's right. You definitely wish to commit her, then? Yes. Yes. You have the papers? Oh, yeah. Here you are. Just your signature will be enough. Doc, there you are. You let me know about everything, won't you? Oh, naturally, Doctor. We keep you informed. Thank you. Well, goodbye then, Dr. Corey. We will do what we can. Patrick. Mrs. Corey is staying with us, Ms. Wilcox. Yes, Dr. Z. Patrick, come back. Patrick. Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Corey. Just come with me, please. Patrick, where are you going? Let me go. Let me go. Dr. Corey. Yes? About the bill. How do you wish it to be handled? The bill? The, the bill. Sure, sure, sure. I. I'll take care of it. By the week, the checks will be signed to William h. Donovan. Sure. August 20th. It's nearly three weeks now since Janice went away. I can't understand how she could have left me just when I needed her most. When I try to question Shroud or David about it, they only look at me strangely and change the subject. Clearly, they too now are, you know, on the conspiracy. Sometimes it seems the only person I can trust is Donovan. The brain communicates with me more freely now each day. I know it has some great plan in mind for me. For both of us. I'm waiting. Patiently waiting. Donovan. Donovan, I'm listening. Donovan. Don't be angry, Donovan. I'm trying to understand. I'm listening, Donovan. I'm listening. I, I, I'm listening. Sure, sure, sure, sure. And so closes Donovan's brain. Part one. The first of two half hour presentations of Kurtz Yodmak's story. Presenting Orson Welles, a star of suspense. Suspense is produced and directed by William Speer. We sincerely hope you enjoyed the performance of Orson Welles and that of the whole cast tonight in our Roma suspense play and that you'll make A note to be sure not to miss the completion of this story. Next week. The Roma Wine Company would like to express its thanks for the many letters of appreciation from listeners which we are constantly receiving, saying how much you enjoy these broadcasts. And here's a thought. To discover the enjoyment these suspense programs offer, you first had to sample one. And so you must first sample one of the many delicious Roma wines to discover for yourself their wonderful taste and quality, the excellence that makes Roma America's largest selling wines. You'll discover, as have other millions before you, that Roma wines are super quality, are super tasting and are super easy on your pocketbook too. Costing only pennies a glass. Be sure you get R O M A Roma wines made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. The greatest and most profitable investment you can make in your country's future is to buy war bonds. Don't forget, then next Monday you will hear part two of Donovan's Brains, starring Orson Welles in the completion of this remarkable tale of suspense presented by Roma wines. R O M A made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Roma wines present suspense. Roma wines made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Salud. Your health, senor. Roma wines toast the world. The wine for your table is Roma wine made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is the man in Black, here to introduce this weekly half hour of suspense. Tonight, from Hollywood, we again bring you Mr. Orson Wells. In the second of two consecutive performances, starring Mr. Wells as the protagonist of Kuts Yodmac's novel, Donovan's Brain. The producer of suspense and its sponsors, the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California, felt this story so unusual that it merited more than our usual time. So, in somewhat of a departure from established radio formulas, we are bringing you the story of Donovan's Brain in two parts. Part one, you heard last Thursday, and tonight you will hear part two, the Completion of Donovan's Brain. But before we raise the curtain on our suspense play, let's for a moment wish ourselves away to Havana, Cuba. Seated at the table in the fashionable Hotel de Nacional de Cuba near us, a group of Cubans are entertaining an American visitor. Our American has just remarked that in point of great enjoyment, the Cuban Roomba is one of America's most delightful imported dances. And then, raising his wine glass, the Cuban host responds. Then we have perhaps discharged some part of our debt to you Americans for this wonderful tasting wine that gives us such great enjoyment. It is wine that Cuba imports from your faraway California. It is Roma wine. Americans didn't have to wait for wine connoisseurs of other lands to discover the greatness of California's wine district, the superb quality of Roma California wines. So many millions made this discovery for themselves that Roma wines have long been America's largest selling wines. But these millions discovered something more in Roma wines. They discovered an easy and expensive way to increase the delights of daily living. Yes, millions have discovered that Roma wines, as a beverage on the table and when used in entertaining, add a charm of a special and wholesome kind. I told you, Roma wines cost little. That's because here in America, you pay no high import duty, no expensive shipping charges. Two Roma wines come from Roma's own wineries in the heart of choice California vineyard districts. So cost to you is only pennies a glass for R O M a Roma wine made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. And now, with part two of Donovan's Brain and with the performance of ORSON WELLES As Dr. Patrick Corey, we again hope to keep you in suspense. As I sit now outside my laboratory door, writing under the heading Experiment 87, this final entry in my casebook, I know that these are the last words I shall ever write upon this earth. For those who seek some explanation, I refer them simply to this casebook. Let them read it carefully. Perhaps they may then in some measure understand, if not condone, the awful circumstances under which I have been driven to the most appalling crime against God and nature that it has ever been the fate of mortal man to perpetrate. August 24th. It's now six weeks, exactly 42 days since I began the experiment. For six weeks, by artificial means alone, I have kept alive a human brain completely detached from the body, floating in a bath of serum, nourished by a synthetic blood plasma, fed through its arteries by an electric pump, it has remained alive. Not only alive, but I have succeeded in communicating with it. For I've even induced new growth of brain cells and so tremendously increased its mental faculties that by sheer brain power alone, it has actually been able to communicate its thoughts to me. And each day, my communion with that living, pulsing mass of gray matter that was the brain of William Donovan becomes stronger and stronger. Even now, I sense it striving to reveal some plan to me, something so truly world shaking in its implications that only such an organism developed to a point thousands of years ahead of its time could ever have conceived it. So far I sense this only, but soon I shall know. Indeed I shall be partner in its execution. What a fool I was ever to have considered for a moment my Wife's demand that I end the experiment. It's because I refused, of course, that Janice left me a week ago without so much as a word of explanation or farewell. Even my son David and my assistant Schrot, are privy to this conspiracy to thwart me. For when I ask about Janice, they pretend to know nothing. They seek to avoid my questions. But the brain will live. Yes, I can hear it now. Its delta wave is quite audible over the amplifying system I've arranged for it. Almost as though it were calling to me, trying to speak to me. The brain will live. Donovan, what is it? What are you trying to tell me? Go on, Donovan. I'm listening. Go on, Go on. Who is it? What do you want? I have no time to talk. I'm busy. I'm sorry. Go away. I tell you, I'm busy. Please, please. Can't you two leave me alone? All right, all right. What is it? What is it? Patrick, won't you come into the study with us for a few minutes? What have you got to say? And say right here. You know I can't leave the laboratory. Dad, it's only that. Well, we wanted to talk to you in private. Don't tell me that you're afraid of this poor mass of brain cells. Yeah, it's not that, dad, but we. Never mind. David, at least turn that thing off then, will you? Patrick, what difference would it make? Could still hear, couldn't it? Well, what is it, then? Well, it's. It's about Mother. So she put you up to this, did she? I thought the truth would come out sometime. Dad, listen. She's trying to stop this experiment. From the beginning, she thought she could blackmail me into quitting by leaving me, and she still does. Now she's using you as a go between. Listen a minute, won't you? We haven't heard a word from Janice. We don't even know where she is. That's what We've come to talk to you. Oh, have you? How could I know where she is? Well, because you were the last person seen with her, Dad. I was? Don't you remember, Patrick? You took her into town with you. You wouldn't tell any of us. Why, yes, of course. The moment I've forgotten. But what of it? Well, don't you remember what happened then? Of course I remember. She left me, that's all. Where, dad? Where did she leave you? What were you doing? Don't know. We were in some big public building. City hall, courthouse, taxis, something. Next thing I knew, she'd simply disappeared. Is that all? Didn't she say anything? Didn't she at least tell you why she was going? I remember what she said. It's been a week or more. I've hardly slept. You know, I've been working night and day. Yes, that's just it. What do you mean by that, Patrick? You say this. The brain communicates with you, tells you things about his past life, Suggests thoughts. Yes. Well, if the brain can make you think of things, mightn't it also be able to make you forget things? You're out of your mind. Dad, are you sure? Are you sure you don't know what's happened to Mother? No, I tell you, no. I don't know. Patrick, don't you see what you might have done? Heaven's name, stop now, while there's still time. Get out of here while there's still time to help Janice, if there is. While there's still time to help yourself. Shut off the current. Let the brain die. Kill it, Patrick. Kill it. Get out. Both of you. Get out. Get out. August 26th. The brain continues to communicate thought fragments more and more easily, but nothing further on what I've come to think of as the plan. I'm now sleeping a great deal, but my dreams are becoming increasingly troublesome, although I'm at a loss to analyze the most frequent as a sort of vast cosmic ballet presided over by the colossal figure of a young man whom I seem to recognize, yet I never, never see his face. It's as though the entire population of the earth were moving past him in review at his command. Sure, sure. Now do it now. Now. Sure, sure. Now. Help me, someone. Shrad. Shroud. Dad. Let go. Dad. Damon, head to Dad. I have a miner here. Help me with shraddies painted. No, David, don't let him. It's all right now. Here's a glass of water. It's the matter. You're trembling all over. You looking at me that way for you look. Look. Frightened after death. Dad, you. What happened here anyway? I came and found you on the floor with your hands around your own throat. Damn it. For me. Why is your luggage all packed? I was going to leave. Leave? In the middle of the night? Why? Because the fuse marks. It's been opened. It was you, Shrott. You were going to shut off the current. You are going to kill the brain. Patrick. You tried to strangle me. What? That's true, dad. That's why I had to slap you. But that's absurd. I came in here and found Schratt with his hands around his Own throat. He was strangling himself. Dad, please think a minute. Nobody can strangle himself. Look at these marks on my throat. You think I could have done that? It's not possible. And yet it's true, Patrick, that I tried to shut off the. I was afraid for you. But as I opened the fuse box, I heard the delta waves in the laboratory suddenly become stronger and louder than they'd ever been before. And then. Then I. Yes. And the brain knew. You even spoke in Donovan's voice, Patrick. That recurring phrase of his. Sure, sure, sure. In his very tones, his very accent. You've created a monster, Patrick. It has the power to make me come commit murder. The brain. The brain must die. Pull the switch in the fuse box, Patrick. It will only be a matter of seconds, and then. Yes, I, I. But I. But I. You've got to. Patrick. Sh. David, help me. I can't move. Come in. Pull the switch, honey. Shrap, David. Go on. You. You too. It's paralyzed, Dispatch. The brain won't let itself be killed. Then. Then it has the power to live on and on, to command us as long as we live. To make us do anything it wants to kill other dead. What are we gonna do? This is brain. It's. It's laughing. Laughing. September 7th. Schrotters left. He had to, of course, for his own protection, if nothing else. Before he left, he swore to eternal secrecy and was going to try to find Janice. The very thought that any harm might come to her through me is enough to drive me almost mad. As for David, although he's strong enough to prevent any untoward accidents, I don't know. He's volunteered to stay with me. He'll sleep at night behind locked doors. We must devote every faculty we possess together and independently, to finding a way of destroying the brain, perhaps while it sleeps. It seems to have developed tremendous powers. The subconscious, which operate even in sleep. The recurring dream, the now oppressive sense of some further task to be performed, continues. If Janice were only here. Even her presence, I know, would help immeasurably to combat this fearful thing. Terrible thought crosses my mind. Could trot have left if the brain had not, for some reasons of its own, actually wanted him to leave. September 10th. My thoughts are less and less my own. The dream of the young giant bestriding the earth, the figure without a face, pursues me now even in my waking hours. Increasingly, I seem to live in a world of evil fantasy peopled and controlled by the mind of William Donovan. Sure, sure, sure, sure, sure, sure. It's not much Time. But time enough. Time enough. Sure, sure. Hello? Who is it? Patrick? Janice. Janice, my darling. Janice. Hello, Patrick, sweetheart. How are you, Patrick? Oh, well enough. I'm well enough. But Dennis, where have you been? Janice, why did you leave me that day? Why didn't you at least tell me? Where did you go? Down here. I was with friends. Well, did Chart tell you anything? No. Nothing special. Janice. I know I haven't been a very good husband these last months. I haven't been very kind, very considerate, or even civilized. I. I haven't been myself, Janice. I know. Patrick. My poor darling. If you'd only known how I missed you after you left. How I needed you. I need your help, Janice. I know, Patrick. Terrible. I. I came back to help you. But. But Potts. Where is David? He's asleep in the next room. That is, lately he's tried to make it a point to sleep only when I didn't. Tried to keep an eye on things. Patrick, I'm going to help you all I can, any way I can. But first I want to take David away. David? Why? Because I don't think it's good for him to be here. I don't think that you. Patrick, I don't want to torment you. It's only that perhaps we can find a way if we know all the facts. What, Jim, is that. Don't you know really where I was? No. How could I? Don't you remember where you took me? Where I took you? I don't know. You took me to a psychiatric. You had me committed to a madhouse. Janice. No, not you. Donovan. Donovan. It was because I tried to make you stop the experiment. Yes. Kill the brain as you left me there. You even spoke in Donovan's voice. Sure, sure, sure. You said, sure, sure. I thought they were the last words of I would ever hear you speak. Oh, Janice, forgive me. Forgive me. I couldn't persuade anyone I was sane. Oh, sweet. After what you told him. Everything I said only made them think I was mad. I'm not mad, am I, Patrick? I'm not mad, am I? Janice will be gone for some three hours. I've sent her into town for Dr. Zanger, the psychiatrist. Maybe he can help. But now, suddenly I'm. Hi. I'm. I'm overcome with the thought of the humiliation I shall have to suffer when other medical men become aware of the position I'm in. It'll be the end of my career and my reputation. Or my hopes. Folly. To think that Zanga'd keep it to himself. Indeed, he'd have no right to. I can bear it if I must. But another way, a possibility occurs to me and I've been thinking it over. There's no harm in trying it. In any event, I must try. I have three hours. David. David. Yes, dad? David, what's your blood type? Do you know your blood type? As a matter of fact, I, I don't think I do. Why? No matter. We can easily find out. David, I, I think. At last I know a way to kill the brain. It's simple. It's perfectly natural. And yet nine chances out of 10 is something Donovan would never have known about. I'll do it myself. Unfortunately, my blood type and his are. They're the same. Transfusion. Of course. I have to replenish the blood substance periodically. Anyway, it's about time to do it again. I've always used my own because it was the same type as his. But yours is a different type. The right type, David. You mean the wrong type. Yes. You've given the wrong. The brain. The brain will die, given the wrong type. Yeah, it's possible. I'm sure of that. I know it. But suppose the brain knows. It knows other things. I, I, I've thought of that. It's a chance we'll have to take. If you're willing, David, my boy. Of course I am. Then we'll take the blood sample. Now. Come into the laboratory. I only have the right blood type. Sure. Rather the wrong type. If you haven't, we'll find someone who has. Maybe. Maybe Shradd. Now, lie down there on the table, David. We want a tourniquet on your arm here. Syringe will do it. Go ahead. I'm ready. David. Don't watch me. It'll be easier if you. Easier if you don't. For me? That's a funny one coming from you. Well, doctors are never quite as steady with members of their own family, you know. Ready? Sure. Ready. Here we are. You. You all right? Yeah, yeah. You Be through in just a second. You. You getting it all right? Yes. Sure? Sure. Just a second now. Dad, I. I'm sleepy. You'll be over it in a minute. But what's the matter? Why. Why am I so sleepy? You'll be all right. Sleepy. So sleepy. Sure. Sure, sure, sure, sure, sure. That's what an anesthetic is for. Make you sleep. I was somewhat surprised to find the instruments sterilized, already laid out, but I worked more rapidly and skillfully than ever before in my life, I think. I made an instant incision just below the hairline, laying Back the scalp as far as the base of the skull. I trepanned the cranium at 2 centimeter intervals, working back and downwards to the upper edge of the occipital bone. With the Geely saw, I cut through the connecting bone structure and removed the entire top of the cranium, placing it in saline solution to preserve it. I made a semicircular incision in the dura mater, laying it to one side, exposing the brain. As I dissected out the facial, auditory and pneumogastic nerves to free the medulla umbreggata, I became conscious of an insistent clamoring, something like a mounting hysteria in the distant reaches of my mind. I almost as strong as the irresistible compulsion that drove me on. But my hand did not falter. With a sure stroke, I severed the spinal cord just below the first cervical nerve. As I make this last entry with that awful guilt upon my soul, even now I cannot fully comprehend how it has been possible for any man, by mortal or immortal means, to be driven to such a crime. Even the divinity himself did not demand of Abraham that final sacrifice of expiation when he with his only begotten son ascended the Mount of Olives. Perhaps Schrot is right. Perhaps there is indeed in man some spark of the divine that will elude our test tubes and our laboratories until the end of time. Perhaps that is the one thing that even Donovan did not foresee. I only know that at the instant my son died under my own hand, I was set free. At that instant, I saw and understood for the first time that monstrous plan born in the brain of William Donovan, of which I was to be the instrument. It was the plan I had glimpsed but never grasped. In the recurring dream. Donovan did aspire to the domination of the world. And with those tremendous mental faculties that I myself had given him, it was literally within his power to become the absolute ruler of all mankind. Only one thing was lacking. A body. A body. A young, strong body into which those ever growing brain cells could graft and affix themselves to live on and on, perhaps for centuries. He chose the body of my son. And now, my son, at last too late. I am free to destroy this foul thing of my creation. I know it as surely as I know that my own life must be forfeit. And the brain also knows. I can hear the disturbed, erratic oscillations of the delta waves coming through the laboratory door. There's no room left in me now for fear I shall take the six steps from the desk where I'm Writing this across to the laboratory door. How often I've taken them in happier times. I shall open the door, close it behind me for the last time and write finis to the mortal life of Patrick Arthur Corey and the brain of William Horace Dunavan. May others learn from the record. I leave here the lessons I have learned so bitterly and profit by them. And for the things that I have done, may God have mercy on my Soul. Phoenix, Arizona, September 15th. The bodies of Dr. Patrick Arthur Corey and his son David were found in Dr. Corey's own laboratory early today. Young Corey had apparently died on the operating table as a result of a delicate brain operation performed by his father. In the case of Dr. Corey, medical authorities gave us their opinion that he might have died of shock as a result of the unsuccessful operation on his son. A curious feature of the case was the fact that numerous pieces of tissue identified as being from a human brain were found scattered about the laboratory floor, while a larger section of brain was found in the midst of an elaborate apparatus, evidently part of a scientific experiment. Medical authorities stated, however, that they were unable to explain the nature of the apparatus and that the brain itself was in such a state state of decomposition as to indicate that it had been dead and slowly decaying for at least three months. Dr. Corey is survived by his wife Janice. She was committed to the county asylum for the insane late this afternoon. Burial of Dr. Corey will be at the Mount of Olives Cemetery. And so closes Donovan's brain. Part 2. The completion of two half hour presentations of Kurtz Yodmak's story presenting Orson Welles, a star of suspense. Suspense is produced and directed by William Speer. Did you know that these Roma wine suspense dramas are setting a record for the millions of delighted listeners they are attracting? We want you to feel that by tuning in the suspense program every week, you can count on real radio enjoyment. Well, an even more dramatic style. The popularity of Roma wines is also record breaking. Because Roma wines are by far America's largest selling wines. Millions make sure of great wine enjoyment simply by asking for Roma wines. Here's something else these millions have discovered. You don't need fancy glassware or a special occasion to enjoy these zestful taste delighting Roma California wines. Roma wines possess lip smacking flavor and zest because they come from Roma wines own wineries right in the heart of the magnificent California wine grape districts. And you can enjoy them as a daily delight because the cost is only pennies a glass. Ask for R O M A Roma wines made in California for enjoyment throughout the World, this is Orson Wellesley. Next week, Mr. William Speer tells me, and he'd like me to pass the information on to you, that Suspense will bring two exceptionally fine artists, Ms. Ida Lupino and Mr. Vincent Price, in a play by one of radio's outstanding authors, Lucille Fletcher. I want to hear that, and I know you will too. Money invested in war bonds now helps ensure a healthy, prosperous post war America. The kind of America we will want for our children as well as ourselves. Don't forget, then next Thursday you will hear Ida Lupino and Vincent Price in suspense. Presented by Roma Wines. R O M A made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System. And now, Roma Wines. R O M A made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Roma Wines presents Suspense. Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Mr. Robert Young as star of you'll Never See Me Again a suspense play produced, edited and directed for Roma Wines by William Spears. Suspense radio's outstanding theater of thrills is presented for your enjoyment by Roma Wine. That's R O M a Roma Wine. Those excellent California wines that keep add so much pleasantness to the way you live. To your happiness in entertaining guests. To your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now a glass full would be very pleasant as Roma Wines bring you Robert Young in a remarkable tale of suspense. So you're walking out on me. What does it look like to you? Like you're walking out on me. Got everything you need? Well, at least I'm glad you're showing your true colors. I'd rather thought it out now than later. Didn't take you long, did it, baby? You're looking for your Coke. It's in there. Thanks. Need any money? I don't need anything from you. Including your wedding ring. Here. You know what you can do with it? Sure. Hawk it. Well, pick a nice quiet hotel. I don't have to pick a hotel. I'm no orphan. When you get good and sick of it, come on back. Maybe I'll still be here. You'll still be here. You'll never see me again as long as you live. You'll never see me again as long as you live. You'll never see me again as long as you live, she said. If I'd known then what I know now, I guess that wouldn't have sounded so funny. All right. Maybe I'm not the easiest guy in the world to get along with. But it's perfectly natural for a couple to have at least one good fight after they've been married nearly three months. I Just wasn't going to be the first one to say uncle, that's all. Still, you don't wait around forever when your wife walks out on you. Even if you are playing hard to get. So the third evening I put in a call. I knew all along she'd head for her mother's place. Anyway. She practically told me where she was going when she was left. Hello? Oh, hello. Is this Mrs. Alden? Yes. This is Ed, Janet's husband. Oh, yes. How is Janet? Isn't she there with you? With me? Why, no. Isn't she with you? No. That was all I needed to hear. I grabbed. I grabbed my hat and headed for the bus station. That was the only way she could have possibly gone to her mother's place at that time of night. By bus. First I wanted to find out if there was anybody who could positively identify her as having left. The guy at the ticket office wasn't very bright. To West Hampton. Well, seems like I remember somebody like that. It would have been Monday night, just about this time. West Hampton, Monday night. Well, maybe. I couldn't be sure though. I. Never mind. Give me a ticket. Where to? Where do you think? West Hampton. She was blonde, blue eyes, good looking. Sure, sure, I remember her. Where'd she get off? I think it was West Hampton. Well, good night. Yeah, we're closed for the night. Mr. Pumps are all out. I just want some information. Can you tell me where the Alden's live? Alden? Oh, yeah, they're those new people. Yeah. Well, you go up the crossroad there. You turn to your left, go on down the hill and it's 1, 2, 3. Let me see. No, no, it's the fourth. Fourth driveway on your right. Did anyone ask you how to get there last Monday night? We're closed Monday, sir. Oh, at fourth driveway on your. Must be somebody lost their way. Yes? I'm Ed Bliss, Janet's husband. Oh, yes. Come in. Ed. I've been looking forward so much to meeting you. I wish it could have been under different circumstances, though. Yeah. I'm so sorry. I have nothing to worry about. No, I can't understand it. It's not like her to do a thing like that. I. Oh, Ed, I want you to meet Mr. Mrs. Farley. We were just playing a little bridge. How do you do? And this is my husband, Joe Alden. I guess that makes him your. Your stepfather in law, doesn't he? Joe, this is Ed Bliss. Pleased to meet you, Ed. Well, I guess we better be going. Yeah. Yeah, I guess we. I certainly do hope that your wife? I wouldn't worry about Divine. Oh, you heard about it, did you? Well, Ed, you see, they dropped in a little while after you phoned, and we thought it was all. That's all right. Well, thanks for asking us over. I. We'll come again real soon now. Thank you. Goodbye. Oh, Ed, I hope you didn't mind about them. Well, I didn't think it was necessary to. Oh, it's all right. It's okay. Well, then come on into the living room and tell us about it. There's nothing much to tell that you don't know, is there? No. No, I suppose not. Sit down. Thanks. Can't I get you something to eat? No, thanks. Or some coffee or something? I think I'll pass up the refreshments this time. Well, I know how you must feel. Yeah, I guess you do. But I. Steel. Can't I just. You painted this room lately, haven't you? Yeah. What about it? Nothing. It just looks a little funny, that's all. You think so? And that brick wall in front of the house is kind of new, too, isn't it? You know I'm a bricklayer by trade, don't you? Well, now that you mention it. Oh, Joe, how can you talk about. About when. You better go on upstairs, Laura. Yeah, she's taking it pretty hard. Yeah. You seem to be bearing up all right, though. You haven't lost any sleep over it yet yourself, have you? I'm not her husband. Yeah. This isn't getting us anywhere. What was that? Laura. I guess she's going to bed. Oh, Well, I guess I better be going down to get that last bus. How about staying overnight? No, thanks. Suit yourself. Oh, wait a minute. I'll put the porch light on. I can see that's better. By the way, what happened? What do you mean, what happened? I suppose you and Janet had a row. What's that got to do with anything? I hear you got kind of a temper. Were you a little too quick with the flat of your hands? What's all this? For the benefit of the neighbors? It might be. Have you notified the police yet? No, and I don't like the way you ask questions. Okay. Okay. Want me to walk down the bus with you? It's pretty dark. Maybe that's why I'd rather walk down there alone. Oh, now, wait a minute, Ed. I think you got me wrong, all right. Maybe I have. Say Good night to Mrs. Alden for me. Yeah. Let us hear from you. Don't worry. You'll hear from me, all right. It was still Plenty dark when I got back to town, but I took the shortcut at the corner just the same. A path across the vacant lot. Between the lot and my house there's a hedge. I was just going through it when I stopped cold. There was a light on in my house, only it wasn't a regular light. With a beam of a flashlight moving past the living room window. That could only mean one thing. Cops. Of course it was Joe. All in the tipped them off. I just waited and then heard the front door open and close. I saw two men standing outside and one of them went up the street. Pretty soon I heard a car drive off. The other man was just a shadow. Then, standing by a tree in front of the house, you could see he was expecting me to come from the other direction. I stepped through the hedge and went over to him. Would you be looking for anybody in particular? I might be. Who are you? Ed Bliss. Who are you? Detective Stillman, Bureau of Missing Persons. How'd you know anyone was looking for you? Oh, I'm just bright that way. Oh, yeah? Well, they like bright boys down at headquarters. Come on, let's go. For suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Robert Young and you'll never see me again by Cornell Woolridge Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, suspense. Between the acts of suspense, this is Ken Niles reminding you that it's really simple to please the palates of fastidious guests. If you'll just be sure to serve grand estate wines for grand estate wines presented by Roma afford you the ultimate in wine excellence. Discriminating wine users know this and regard your offering of grand estate wines as a flattering gesture to their good taste. For in grand estate wines, particular guests find the brilliant clarity, full fragrance and mellow taste that distinguish truly outstanding wine. You see, Roma created this limited bottling of magnificent grand estate wines especially to please those who know fine wines with choicest grapes, infinite patience, necessary time and age, old skill. Roma master vintners endowed each Grand Estate wine with fine qualities of wine greatness. So the host who possesses all five Grand Estate California wines is sure of pleasing all tastes at all times. For smart entertaining, delight your guests with Grand Estate Medium, Sherry, Ruby port or Golden Muscatel. For gracious dining, serve Grand Estate Burgundy or Sauternes. Remember the name. Grand Estate wines by Roma, the crowning achievement of vintner skill. And now, Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage. Robert Young, who has Ed Bliss in you'll never see me again continues a narrative well calculated to keep you in suspense? He stood there in the shadows, watching my face. Detective Stillman of the Bureau of Missing Persons. I'd been expecting this to happen sooner or later. And now that it had, I was stunned for a moment. Well, come on, bright boy. They're expecting us at headquarters. Wait a minute. I want to talk to you. I'm in a jam. Oh, you're telling me. Not the way you think. Will you come inside with me? I've been inside. Say, what kind of a furnace do you have in your cellar? Bliss. An oil burner. The kind that turns on automatic with an electric cut in? That's right. Why is there a fuse blown? How'd you know there was a fuse blown? Was that why you were searching my house with a flashlight? Or was it because you didn't have a warrant? See? You really are bright boy, aren't you? Well, come on. Come on, we're going down. Listen, I don't want to have any arguments. I want help and I want it bad. Will you give me a break? What kind of a break? Oh, this is no place to talk. Will you come inside? Okay, but you better talk fast and talk good. Don't worry. The fuse box is right here. Flash your light, please. I always keep a couple of fuses on top of it. Oh, there they are. Let's go in the front room. After you. Okay. Now, what do you want to talk about? Don't you understand? She's my wife. I'm scared. Then why did you run out? Why didn't you tell the police? Because at first I thought it was just one of those things. Anyway, I knew where she'd gone. Back to her mother's. How'd you know that? Because I went down after her. Because all kinds of people saw her go. Bus drivers, ticket sellers. Only when I got there, she wasn't there. How much life insurance do you carry on a bliss? 25,000. Wow. That's quite a lot for a $75 a week architect, isn't it? Our mother paid for it. A wedding present, for heaven's sake. What do you think I did, buried her in a cellar or something? No, we know you didn't do that. We looked. Oh, cut it out, will you? I love her. I. Oh, we've only been married three months. Well, what do you want me to do? Oh, give me a break. Listen, if you take me down to headquarters now, it may be hours. Oh, it'll be hours, all right. And in the meantime, if there's still a chance. But. But there's got to be. She's somewhere and she's in danger. I know it. Yeah? How? I tell you, I followed her down to her mother's place in West Hampton. There's a guy at the station who remembers selling her a ticket. The bus driver remembers her getting off there and then she just disappeared. Then what? I went down to her mother's house. They hadn't seen her. There's something funny about it. There's something funny about her mother and that. That stepfather. There's something funny about the house and about that room. What room? That living room of theirs. Listen, you've got to help me. Help me find her. You've got to go down there to West Hampton with me. Because I've got a hunch somehow that I'm the only one who can find her. All right, Bliss. All right. I don't know why, but I believe. You do? Yes. I shouldn't believe you either. Because. Because what? What? What was your wife wearing when she ran out on you on Monday night? What was she wearing? Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure. You must remember what she was wearing. Well, she's wearing a gray flannel suit, skirt and jacket. You know, pink silk shirtwaist, patent leather high heeled shoes. One of those crazy little hats. Any baggage? Yeah, a little tan suitcase. You're sure of that, Sarah? Well, that's why I shouldn't believe you. Why not? Because when you find somebody's clothes around, you usually start looking for the body right nearby. What do you mean? Well, they weren't burned up because that fuse had blown. But we found every one of those things in the furnace down in your cellar about 20 minutes. When he said that, I knew there wasn't much time. But he was going up to West Hampton with me anyway. And that was the main thing. Of course. First he had to route out the bus driver and the ticket seller and check my story with them just to be sure I wasn't trying to pull a fast one. But that was all right. I expected that. Then we climbed into the police car and headed out to West Hampton. He believed me now. All right. That car couldn't have been pushed any harder if I'd been driving it myself. Still, it was brought down daylight when we got there. We parked the car a little ways down the road and walked towards the house. See what I mean, Bert? Take that brick wall, for instance. Well, what about it? It's new. What did he build that for? It's not tall enough to hide the road. It's not even tall enough to keep a dog out. What did he Build it for? Well, maybe he built it to keep in practice. Come on. Come on, let's go in. It's awful quiet. Yeah, well, why not? They're probably in bed. And that's where I would be if I hadn't let you talk me into this. Listen, Bert, you don't think I. I'm here, ain't I? Go on, ring the bell. No answer. I'll keep trying. Shades are all down. I don't think so. Well, come on. Let's try the back door. Shades are down on this side of the house, too. Huh? Look. The garage is empty. Yeah. Well, I guess our birds are through to Cooper. Right. Bird I don't like. Come on, come on. We'll try this back door anyway. Oh, it's locked. Here. Here's an axe. Yeah. Wait a minute. Let me try my keys. Oh, nuts. Ah. There. That got it. This. This is the way to the front of the house? I guess so. I've never been back here. Yeah, this is it. Here's the front hall. There. There it is. What? The room. The living room I was telling you about. Oh, what about it? Snap on the lights. All right, I still say, what about it? I don't know, but don't you get something funny about it? No. What? The lights or something about the fresh paint, the rug. There's something, though. I know there is. Oh, come on, come on. We're wasting time. There's something screwy about the whole joint. We went over the place from top to bottom. I wanted to get back to that room, and time was awful important. But Bert Stillman wanted to look into everything, which was only right and natural. Then we ran into something. That was just about the last thing I expected. Say, what's the store here? I don't know. I thought we covered everything on the ground floor before. Hmm. Locked. That must be some sort of back bedroom. The keys won't fit this one. Funny. The only room in the house that was locked. Well, maybe we've got what we're looking for. Give me that axe. But, Bert, don't you see? If she was here and then gone, they must have taken her. She's probably. Who's she? Mrs. Alden. Your wife's mother? Yeah. Say, where's your daughter? Oh, please, please. Come on. Come on. Where is she? I don't know. Was she here? Yes. Where's she now? I don't know. Did she leave with your husband? I don't know. Why didn't you tell me she was here the other night? Joe told me not to she was here. And the next morning Joe told me she left. And this morning he left. What did you lock yourself up in here for? I knew when Joe left this morning that something. Something terrible when you came. I was frightened. Come on. Come on where? Don't you get it? For some reason, the stepfathers put the snatch on her. We've got to put a call through the headquarters and get the highway patrols on the watch for them. Well, what about her? Oh, she comes along. Come on. Come on. Bert. Yes? There's something wrong about this. You bet your life there is. No. I mean, why would he do it? What. What motive would he have? Let me worry about the motive. You worry about your wife. And it's got some connection with what's wrong about that room. Whatever it is. Will you forget about the room? We've got to get. I want to look at it just once more. Listen. You listen. Do you want your wife back or don't you? There's no time to stand. Bert. I've got it. Got what? It's lopsided. Don't you see? It's not on a square. How do you know? I'm an architect. Look, the lights aren't in the middle of the ceiling. The windows aren't in the middle of the wall. So what? The design of the rug is wrong. It's cut off too close to that wall. It's. Bert. What? That wall. That's why the room has just been repainted. That's why I built the brick wall in front of the house. I don't get it. One wall of this room is a dummy built out in front of the real one. That's why the room looks lopsided. That's why he built the brick fence, to get bricks without arousing suspicion. Which wall? That one. And, Bert, it must be hollow. Give me that ax. You don't think that the Janet. Bert, give it to me. Get back. Get back. You heard me. Get back. Mrs. Olive, the joke. The Janet. Answer me. Answer me. He couldn't have done a thing like that. Hey, Ed. Yes? Didn't. Didn't you say your wife was. Was young? 23. Well, then you can look. This is an older woman. Do you. Oh, you know her? No. Well, there's your motive. Yeah, but. But who could it be? I don't know. Well, she. She must know the mother. She can't even talk. Say, Ed. Ed, you would know if she was the mother, wouldn't you? Of course I would. What? No, I wouldn't. I never saw Janet's Mother. Until I came here to the house Monday night. Mrs. Alden. Mrs. Alden. Answer me. I'm not Mrs. Alden. That's Mrs. Alden. It was just a question of time now, whether we'd get back there in time to stop it. It all fit together now. And what Burt didn't know, he got out of the woman on the way back. Did you know Joe Alden before? No, not before I came to their house in Eastport to take care of her. I was her nurse, and Joe and I. Well, who got the idea of the killer, you or Joe? He did. When he saw me giving her a sedative. 1. She was pretty sick. Premeditated, eh? Why did you do it? Money, of course. She kept a lot of bonds around the house. That's what Joe wanted. Is that why you moved from Eastport to West Hampton? Yes. Nobody knew us in West Hampton. We moved in at night. They thought there was only the two of us. They thought I was the real Mrs. Alden. When did he do it about us? Week after we got there, one night. By morning, she was where you found her. We were doing better than 80 most of the way, but I still didn't think we'd make it. And naturally, Burt was afraid to put the local cops around the house for fear Alden would spot them first and take Janet away and do it somewhere else. He hadn't done it already because Bert had the picture cold. Now. Janet had come to the West Hampton house and found her mother was missing before Alden had been able to make his getaway. So Alden had to kill Janet, too. He knew where he was taking her because of the clothes in the furnace of my house. That was the tip off that Joe was going to try to plant it on me. The only break I had. At least I knew where to look, if I could get there in time. The outskirts of town. We picked up a police that Bert made them lay off. When we got near the house, we drove up the side street and parked a little ways off. We walked up to the house. There was a car in front of it. Is that Alan's car? Yes. All right, now, you're coming in with us, lady. But the first sound out of you and I'll shoot. And I mean that. I know. Got your keys, Ed? Yeah. Y'all quiet? Look. Look. There's a light. That's the door to the cellar. Come on. Listen. He's digging. The lights have gone out. He must have heard us. Put on your flashlight. Come on, let's go. There he is. Head. Why you. Hey. Hey. Ed. You shouldn't have done that. He killed my wife. Tindy. Switch on the like. Where is she? Maybe it isn't too late. There she is. She's dead. Yeah, yeah. Chloroform. You smell it? Come on, get that cough off her face. It's too late. Can't you see? Yeah. Yeah. I'm afraid, Ed. Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing carrying a gun, Ed? I got a permit. Anyway, what's the use of asking questions like that? She's moving. Well, she's alive. Here, come on, Ed, give me a hand. Quick. Ed. Here, Ed. Come on, help me. I. Hey. Hey, Ed, where you going? Put up your hands, Ed. Okay, they're up. Ed. You could at least have done it yourself instead of hiring a murderer. What did you do it for, Ed? The money? What do you think? For fun? Go ahead, talk. Anything to make you happy. Would have been perfect if Alden had killed her when he first got her in the cellar like I told him to. Maybe he had a sneaking idea I was going to double cross him. He was stalling until the last minute. I don't know. Anyway, it won't do him much good where he is. What did. What'd you have on him, Ed? The mother? His wife? I'd been up there before. Alone. I knew he killed his wife because I'd seen a picture that Janet had of the real wife. I spotted the room right away. Told Olin I'd split the money with him if he took care of Janet. And if he didn't go on, I knew I could pick a fight with Janet. And I knew she'd run up to her mother's. Then I went up there to make it look good. After I left, Alden was to call the cops like he did you. Take me down here to headquarters. And while you were giving me the old third degree, Alden was supposed to plant the body in the cellar. That way I was in the clear. Because, you know, I couldn't have done it while I was down here talking to you. You know she hadn't been there before. Because you'd look. That's why I planted the clothes. The furnace, remember? So you would look. I had an alibi. Nobody had a thing on Alden unless I squawked. He had to take that chance. Yeah. Looked pretty good there for a while, didn't it? Yeah. Yeah. Your. Your wife's outside. Want to say anything to her? Huh? Oh, just tell her I said, you'll never see me again. Suspense presented by Roma Wines R O M A made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. And now, here is our producer, director William Speer with a basket of grand Estate wines. A gift for the distinguished star of tonight's suspense play, Robert Young. Bob, these grand estate wines are our way of thanking you for a really wonderful performance. Well, thank you, Bill, for this wonderful basket. You know, Mr. Young, each grand Estate wine is a limited bottling of outstanding excellence. Presented by Roma, the greatest name in wine. Each precious bottle is distinguished by brilliant clarity, full fragrance and mellow taste. Yes, the name Grand Estate Wine stands for the ultimate in wine goodness. I'm impressed. And I've learned something. Well, discriminating wine users Everywhere are learning, Mr. Young. They're finding out that grand Estate wines offer a rich new experience in wine enjoyment. Choicest grapes and the patient perfection of winemaking serve to establish Grand Estate wines by Roma as the crowning achievement of vintner skill. Very convincingly speaking. And Mr. Young's gift basket of grand estate wines will convince him still more. Bob, it's always great to have you on suspense. I'm sorry we had to make such a heel out of you at the end. But that's what you get for being such a two way stretch of an actor. Well, I'll get a two way verdict on the show when I get home tonight. Kids will be furious because they know I'm such a nice guy. But my wife will say that suspense is the only show that ever lets me play my true villainous self. How is Betty? Fine. Well, congratulations again, Bob. I hear that Lady Luck, the picture you just finished at rko, is swell. Well, I'll be looking forward to seeing it. Well, you're very kind, Bill. Who's on suspense next Thursday? It's a double threat. Lloyd Nolan and Vincent Price in a play about two lifelong enemies who go away on a hunting trip together. Both knowing that only one of them is ever coming back alive. Well, it sounds terrific, Bill. I won't miss it. Swell. And now, Bob, with my compliments and Roma's, here's that gift basket of grand estate wines. Thank you again and good night. Next Thursday, same time, listen to Vincent Price and Lloyd Nolan on suspense. Presented by the Roma Wine Company, Fresno, California. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System. In just a moment, suspense with Edward G. Robinson. Boy, have I got the hiccups. I say you have. And the way you're sputtering, you sound like a car that needs a set of new autolites. Buck, now happy? It isn't funny, Billy. Have you tried drinking A glass of water while you hold your breath. Mom, I'm so full of water now I feel. I feel like an Autolite. Stay full battery. Men never take anything seriously. Maybe what Billy needs is a hiccup. I mean, a checkup at an Autolite ignition service station. It might help if I could get my mind on something else. Say, I know what'll make you forget those hiccups and give you a bunch of thrills to boot. Switch to Autolite, Mary. It's time for suspense. Suspense. Autolite and its 60,000 dealers and service stations Bring you radio's outstanding theater of thrill. Starring tonight, Mr. Edward G. Robinson in Anton Liter's production of the man who Wanted to Be Edward G. Robinson. A tale well calculated. To keep you in suspense, I'm making this statement in accordance with the promise to a very dear friend. It's a complete statement in every detail, Even including those matters which are to me personally most incriminating. Because my trust in my friend is such that I haven't the slightest concern on that score or any other. What follows concerns primarily two persons. Myself, Homer J. Hubbard and my wife, Ada Sampson Hubbard. Even when I was courting Ada, I was aware that hers was a strong and domineering personality, say the least. And after we were married, well, at first I put up with Ada's constant nagging and petty persecutions as best I could. I put up with them for 20 long years. It wasn't until a memorable evening a little over a year ago. That the first dim outlines of an escape. And finally a plan began to take shape in my mind. You see, I. I never was much of a one for movies, but Ada and I had gone to see a picture called Little Caesar. It was a reissue, I think they call it, with an actor in it whom I never even heard of before. Oh, so you thought you rat on me, huh? Well, get this. Nobody rats on Little Caesar. See, the moment I saw that face on the screen, the minute I heard that voice, the world of reality around me simply ceased to exist. I lived that picture. I was Little Caesar. I was Edward G. Robinson. I was dimly conscious that my voice was like his. That even my face, without my spectacles and with my hair parted differently, might have been mistaken for his. But it was more than that. It was his personality that fascinated me. And that, I assumed. Calm, assured, tough kind of a man who made people do what he wanted done the way he wanted it done. Walking out of the movie theater afterward, I knew something had happened that was going to change my whole life. Well, There's a man. Yes, Caesar, they call him, and well they may. And that Edward G. Robinson, I'll wager he's no Casper Milk Toasty. Yes, dear. Is that all you have to say? Well, yes, dear. What does it take to arouse a little enthusiasm in you anyway? Here, you've seen a fine performance, a picture that'd get anybody in the world excited, and all you can say is, yes, dear? I wish you were half the man that Robinson is. But from that moment, I no longer really cared what Ada wished or thought. I'd begun my escape into a dream world of my own making, a world in which I was Edward G. Robinson. As the weeks went by, I began to identify myself with him more and more. I imagined myself in countless dangerous situations, and when no one was looking, I imitated him and I affected his mannerisms. I would start daydreaming at my desk, wondering what the other people in the office were would think if I suddenly exposed this hidden side of my personality. Okay, everybody stay where you are. Hold your hands over your head. I don't want any monkey business, see? Now, stand back there, Ryan. Any funny stuff from you, and I'll let you have it. This is preposterous. What do you mean by such behavior? Is this your idea of a joke? We'll see whether it's a joke or not if you make one false move. Now, this isn't a water pistol I'm holding here, you know. I read your. Leave this office immediately. I'm getting out, all right, but I'm not fired, see? I'm leaving well healed. That's where you come in, Mr. Ryan. Oh, please, please, Hubbard, be reasonable. Shut up and do what I tell you. Keep your hands up in the air while you walk over to that safe, open it up, get all the money out of it and put it right here on the desk in front of me. I. Get moving. I don't want to have any trouble with you, Orion. I'm gonna count three, and if you're not moving when I finish, you'll never move again. See? One, two. Hubbard, what are you doing? Daydreaming. You better get busy or I should be forced to report you to Mr. Pemberton again. Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Ryan. I'm terribly sorry. I can't understand what could have come over me. Well, that's the way it went at the office. Walking down the street, riding home on the bus, my life outwardly calm and well ordered, possibly even dull, was actually 24 hours of harrowing adventure. With myself as the central figure. I saw every Edward G. Robinson picture that came out. It was the day after seeing Key Largo for the third time that Ada finally caught me. I was lathering my face and talking to myself. Okay, I rat. You asked for it. You don't come out, say, we're coming in and get you, see? And we're coming in shooting, see? What's that? Oh, yeah. Well, only a guy to yell a rat would say that. Okay, boys, let him have it. Well, I never. Of all the four performances I ever heard of. This beats everything. What in the world are you jabbering about in here? Well, it's really nothing, dear Ada. I was just sort of trying to imitate Edward G. Robins. You were what? Edward G. Robinson? Yeah. That's rich. You trying to imitate Edward G. Robinson? Oh, I can't stand. Don't stop. Don't let me interrupt the performance, Mr. Movie Star. Come on, come on. Do your act for me. Well. Well, dear, I I, I I don't see anything so funny about it. Well, maybe you don't, but you're the only person in the world who wouldn't. Oh, my. Well, I'll leave you to your rehearsing. Why don't you imitate any Bracken or Margaret or Brian? I think you'd find it easier. It was right then that I decided to kill her. For suspense, Autolyte is bringing you Mr. Edward G. Robinson in radio's outstanding theater of Thrills. Suspense. Say, Mary, looks like Billy's all over those hiccups. Thanks to Edward G. Robinson and suspense. Shh. Don't mention hiccups again. He might get him back. Let's switch his mind to something else. Well, you know how he is about anything Autolyte makes. Let's listen to Frank Martin. That'll do the trick. Friends, money can't buy better electrical equipment for your car than Autolite. And here's why. In the first place, Autolight is the world's largest independent manufacturer of automotive electrical equipment. Original factory equipment for many of the finest cars and trucks in America. In its 26 nationwide plants, Autolight manufactures distributors. Generators, starting motors, spark plugs, batteries, wire, not to mention such things as bumpers, die castings, horns, instruments and gauges, lights, ornamental plastics and over 400 other products. What's more, Autolite service stations all over the country are staffed with trained men and specialized machines to give your car the best possible electrical service. So, friends, when your car's electrical equipment needs attention, drive into your nearest Autolite service station. Or the dealer who sells your make of car and ask for original factory parts and service. Remember, auto light service stations are listed in your classified telephone directory under automotive electrical equipment. And now Autolight brings back to a Hollywood soundstage, Mr. Edward G. Robinson in the man who Wanted To Be Edward G. Robinson. A tale well calculated. To keep you in suspense, I. I might have decided to have Missy on her if she'd only let me alone. But Ada could never leave anyone alone. She ridiculed me at home and in front of our friends. Sometimes she'd let a few weeks go by without saying anything, and I would think that perhaps she had forgotten. No, Ada never forgot. She would wait until we were in a group of people and then she would come out with it. Well, my dear, you mean I haven't told you about Homer's dream world? Oh, no. He thinks he's Edward G. Robinson. Oh, no. Do tell us, Mr. Homer G. Robinson, when do you think you'll be getting your next contract from Hollywood? Oh, you folks have got Homer all wrong. He's a killer at heart. Just a cold blooded killer. I want to buy a gun. Yes, sir. What kind of a gun? Well, I don't know much about guns, but that one looks all right. Yes, yes, that's a nice little gun. Yes, isn't it? 28, 50. Do I have to have a license? Oh, not unless you're going to carry it on your person. Otherwise, we just register it for the police records under your name. Oh, yeah? What's the name, huh? Oh, Edward G. Robinson. I beg your pardon? You heard me, mug. Edward G. Robinson. See, I had made my plans very carefully. My plan was that her murder would look like suicide. It would be a night when the moon was full so that I could see her head on the pillow and aim carefully. I would fire the shot through the temple quickly wipe my fingerprints from the handle of the gun and then push it in into her hand. And as the shocked and bereaved husband, I would call Dr. Wallace. The police wouldn't come until later, and when they did, I would be ready for them. I was so busy laying my plans that I hadn't been reading the papers and had to be told the big news. Homer. Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Robinson, please, would you mind passing the spinach? That is, if you're not too preoccupied with planning your next murder. Please, please, Ada. Yeah. Held up any banks lately? Homer? Here you are, dear. Oh, say, that reminds me. All kidding aside, did you know that he's gonna be here next week? Who? Edward G. Robinson. He's going to address the hobbyist convention. Oh, is that so? Yeah, sure. Well, I. I'd like to hear him. I would too. Oh, I'd love to see what a real he man is like. Not just a poor imitation. We went and at first it was the most terrible disappointment of my life because he wasn't tough or hard boiled or anything like it. He seemed to be a mild mannered little fellow. A little shy, almost like me. He talked about orchids and modern art. They were his hobbies, he said, raising orchids and collecting paintings. Modern paintings, yes. But as the lecture went on, I began to understand. By the time it was over, I knew. And so, ladies and gentlemen, I consider myself twice blessed. Every man is blessed who has a hobby. But I am among the fortunate few who have two hobbies. And as the fellow said, whose fiance had a twin sister. I love them both. Thank you. Thank you very much. Later that evening I made an excuse to get away from Ada and went down to the hotel where I knew Mr. Robinson was staying. I bribed the bellboy $1.75 to tell me which was his room. I went down the hall and knocked at the door of 708. Yeah. Western Union. Come on in. Just put it on the. Well, say, Western Union dresses their boys up pretty snappy in this town, don't they? I must apologize for adopting the subterfuge, Mr. Robinson, but I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you. And I was afraid you might not see me since, well, we've never been formally introduced. Formally introduced? Why, that's all right. What is it? Autograph? I'm afraid it's something a good deal more serious than that, Mr. Robinson. Yeah, well, you caught me right in the middle of shaving, as you see. But if you don't mind my finishing the job while you talk, why, come right along inside, tell me all about it. Thank you. Well, now, what's on your mind? Well, Mr. Robinson, I have a problem. And I feel you are the person best fitted in the world to tell me what to do. That's all. Well, what is the problem? Mr. Robinson? Suppose, of course, this is purely hypothetical, but suppose you were going to kill somebody. Kill somebody? Yes, in your own home. Somebody who's, shall we say, related to you. Yeah. Now hold on a minute. Mr. Hubbard. Homer J. Hubbard. Mr. Hubbard, I may look like a bad guy on the screen, but when I'm not working I'm just a plain peace loving citizen like anybody else. You can fool people like that. Audience night with all that talk about orchids and modern art and it was very good. And I quite understand why you do it. The man in your position must have a front. Of course, but you didn't fool me. I didn't, huh? Well, I. I know, rather. I. I knew I. I could come to you and be perfectly frank. Yeah? About what? Why, about the murder. About the what? Look at me, Mr. Robinson. I'm a shy, inhibited, weak, utterly ineffectual person. I have none of your assurance, your hardness, your ability to cope with any situation the direct, ruthless way. Yeah. How many times I wished I had. Because for 20 years my life has been made horribly, unbearably miserable by one person. My wife. Oh, so that's the way it is. Yes. For years I bore it as best I could. And then one day I thought, how would you have coped with it? And of course, I knew at once you would kill it. Here, now, wait a minute. Are you kidding me? Oh, no, no, Mr. Homson, I wouldn't think of such a thing. Look, look here. I've even secured a gun to do it with. Yeah. Here, you better give me that. No, no, don't point it. Hand it at me by the barrel. Here. Put it over here. Safer, you know. Yeah. I must admit, I know very little about firearms, and they're quite distasteful to me. It's you and me both. You, Mr. Robinson. Well, I mean, small arms like that. Of course, tommy gun, that's different. That's the only thing to use. Yeah, I suppose you're right. But I didn't know where to get a tommy gun. I was afraid even if I did, I'd never master the art of using it. Yeah, well, now you want to kill your wife, is that it? You want me to help you? If you would, Mr. Robinson, if you could spare the time, I can't tell you how grateful I'd be. Yeah, well, you know, Mr. Hubbard, you. You look like a pretty nice little guy. Must really be an old battle axe to got you in a frame of mind like this. All right, now, I'll tell you what I'll do. I will help you. Oh, Mr. Robinson. Yes, but it's got to be done my way, see? It's got to be done right. You got to plan these things. Yeah. Now, take this gap, this little flea, for instance, that you got over there. That's no kind of a rod to kill your wife with. Why, the caliber is all wrong. The ballistics would be all wrong. Things would be on your trail, just like that. Now, I got a guy at home that's perfect for the job. Get me. I've knocked off Orson Welles. Jimmy cag. Oh, I don't know how many guys were there. Now, the first thing, when I get home, I'll send it to you parcel post, see? Would you, Mr. Robinson? Oh, sure, sure. Now, when you get it, just lay low, see? Now, don't do a thing till you hear from me. I'll lay this thing out for some of my boys and. And I'll get in touch with you. Okay? Oh, yes, Mr. Robinson, I don't know how to thank you. Ah, forget it, pal. What's a little miter between friends? I could scarcely maintain my composure in the two days that followed. The second day, sure enough, the gun arrived. It was a great heavy thing. The kind that's referred to, I think, as an automatic. Remembering its history, I handle it with the utmost care and reverence. I hid it in the garage where I keep my pipe that Ada won't let me smoke in the house. It was the next afternoon, Saturday, that the phone rang. I rushed into the bedroom to answer it and close the door after me so Ada wouldn't hear in case it was. Hello, Homer? Yes? This is Eddie. Eddie? Yeah, yeah, you know, Eddie Robinson. Oh, yes, yes, Miss. Eddie, you get that package I sent you? Oh, yes, yes, I. I got it. Okay, but don't fool around with it, will you, until the time comes. Kind of tricky. Oh, no, no, no, I won't. Now, listen. The deadline is tomorrow night, midnight. Got it? Yes. Now, here's the layout. Tomorrow night, you go to bed just as always, but have that cat handy and leave the front door open, see? I understand. Oh, say, wait a minute. I meant to ask you, is it safe to talk where you are? Oh, yes, yes. The phone's in the bedroom and the door is closed. The bedroom, huh? Swell. Well, now, listen. A little before midnight, you get up, see? When she's asleep, you take a spot just outside the bedroom door, see, where you can keep an eye on her. And on the front door too, see? Yes. Well, at midnight, I'll contact you. We'll do your job then, make a quick getaway, and you can hold up in the hide until he eats off. Get it? Tomorrow night, midnight, I'll do everything. Just as you say, Eddie. I followed his instructions to the letter. Seemed hours before Ada went to sleep. That night. Seemed days until my watch finally crept around towards midnight. But at last the time had come. I crept out of bed, got the gun out of my coat pocket. And took my position on the landing outside the bed door as he had told me to. And then suddenly. Suddenly the phone rang. The plan was ruined. Even Edward G. Robinson couldn't have foreseen this. I rushed back into the bedroom, hoping against hope that I could catch it before Ada woke up. But she already had the light on. Homer, what in the world are you doing prowling around at this time of night with a gun in your head? I. I thought I heard a burglar. Burglar? When I've answered this phone, I want to talk to you, Homer Jeremiah Hubbard. Hello? Yes. What? Hmm? Oh. What? Homer, there is a burglar. Someone just saw him trying to get into the house. Are you sure? Of course I am. A man just phoned that he saw the burglar. Well, don't just stand there. You've got a gun. Go on down and stop him. Yes, but, Ada, do you want us to be killed in our beds? Go on, I say. Oh, wait. Why do you have to spoil everything? There was nothing to do but go. I crept down the stairs. In the darkness, I knew what Edward G. Robinson would have done. He would have gone down and captured the burglar without the slightest trouble and turned him over to the police after giving him the beating he deserved. But somehow I didn't feel much like Edward G. Robinson just then. It was at that moment that the terrible thought occurred to me that maybe it wasn't the burglar. Maybe this was Edward G. Robinson. I had no time to pursue the thought further. Let him have it. Come on. Suddenly there was a barrage of shots and a confused yelling of voices. In my terror, I suppose I must have squeezed the trigger of my own gun because of the man jumping in my hand. I tripped on something, and the next thing I knew, I was tumbling headlong down the stairs. And that was the last I remember. When I woke up, Ada was holding my head in her arms and she was crying. They made me stay in bed for a couple of days, but I really didn't mind. There were reporters to see me and take my picture for the paper. And all kinds of people, even Mr. Ryan and Mr. Pemberton, came to see me. And Ada, well, Ada was simply a changed person. Nothing was too good for me. My slightest wish was literally her command. If the whole thing hadn't been an accident, if I planned it that way, it couldn't have turned out better. Then, as the final climax that afternoon when the phone rang by my bed. Yes? Oh, yes, Eddie, you did, eh? Oh, nothing. Nothing, really. Yes, oh, well, about that. Things have changed. Oh, yes, they've changed quite a lot. I don't think we'll have to go through with a. Yeah, that's right. Oh, sure, sure. She's right here. Just a minute. Eddie wants to talk to you, Ada. Eddie? Yeah, Eddie Robinson. Quite a pal of mine. You mean Edward G. Robinson? Oh, yes. We had quite a little chat that night he was in town. After I let you eat, he got pretty chummy. Go on. Hello? Oh, yes. Oh, yes, Mr. Robinson. Oh, I know he is. Oh, I certainly will, Mr. Robinson. Yes, yes, I know. I'm very lucky. All right, Mr. Robinson. Goodbye. Oh, Homer, he knew all about it. He'd seen it in the papers. Yeah, so he said. And he said you were a hero. A real hero. Bigger than any movie hero that ever was. He did? Oh, Homer. Well, if Eddie Robinson says I'm a hero, I guess maybe I am. Couldn't have turned out better. Eddie, you know how grateful I am. I'm a regular Little Caesar around town now. And my married life is all I've ever wanted to be. Cause there are some things about the whole thing that confuse me a little. It has even occurred to me, I'll confess, that you might have had more of a hand in it than was generally known. And that the gun you sent me might have contained blanks, I believe you call them. Because in spite of all the shooting, there wasn't one bullet hole anywhere in the house. And the gun had the spear, which confused the police on what to. And the burglars might have been some of your boys playing a little joke. But I don't think you would do a thing like that to a palady, would you? I don't even think you would use the statement that you asked me to send you to hold over my head as a guarantee that I wouldn't try to kill Ada again. Not that I ever would. Yes, but even if you did all that, Eddie, I don't really mind. Because as you might say yourself, what's a little joke between pals? Thank you, Edward G. Robinson, for a splendid performance. Mr. Robinson will return in just a moment. My, that was a wonderful performance, wasn't it, Hap? Sure was. Oh, say, Billy, how are the hiccups? All gone, Dad. I think I lost them during Mr. Martin's last autolite commercial. That's fine. Well, I guess it's time to. Oh, my gosh. Now I've got them. Mary, turn up Frank Martin again, quick. Auto Light original factory parts and Auto Light service stations work as a team to help you maintain carefree, economical performance for your car. So, friends, when your car's electrical system needs attention, drive into your nearest auto light service station or the dealer who sells your make of car and ask for original factory parts and auto light service. Money can't buy better electrical equipment than Autolite. And remember, auto light means spark plug ignition. Engineered spark plug. Auto light means batteries stay full battery. Auto light means ignition system. The lifeline of your car. And now, here again is Mr. Edward G. Robinson. It's been fun appearing in our suspense story tonight. But just so nobody gets the wrong idea, it was only a story. I'm not really so tough. Only get this I'm telling you, see? You better listen to suspense next week, see, because Ray Milan will be hearing the story called Night Cry by William L. Stewart. Another gripping study in suspense. Edward G. Robinson may soon be seen in the Paramount production Night Has a Thousand Eyes. Tonight's suspense play was written by Leslie Raddatz. With music composed by Lucian Morowic and conducted by Lud Gluskin. The entire production was under the direction of Anton M. Leiter. In the coming weeks, suspense will present such stars as William Powell, Lucille Ball, John Garfield, Sydney Green street and many others. Make it a point to listen each Thursday to suspense Radio's outstanding theater of thrills. And next Thursday, same time, here, Ray Milan in Nightcry. This is the Autolite suspense Show. Drive as if your life depends on it. It does. Good night. Switch to Autonite. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System. And now, Roma Wines. R O M A made in California. For enjoyment throughout the world. Roma Wines present suspense Tonight, Roma wines bring you Mr. Brian Dunleavy as star of Lazarus Walks. A suspense play produced, edited and directed for Roma Wines by William Speer. Suspense radio's outstanding theater of thrills is presented for your enjoyment by Roma Wines. That's R O M A Roma Wines, those excellent California wines that can add so much pleasantness to the way you live. To your happiness in entertaining guests. To your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now a glass full would be very pleasant. As Roma Wines bring you Brian Don Levy and a remarkable tale of suspense. This is the truth. Do you understand? The truth. It must be the truth. It has to be. I, Robert Winsley Graham, a doctor and psychiatrist by profession. Do hereby of my own free will and volition. Albeit with deepest regret, make the following full and complete statement. Relative to that all but unbelievable series of events which has brought such disaster and misfortune to my house. And particularly to my poor Wife. Isabel. It had its beginning, properly speaking, some two months ago, to be exact. On the evening of August 25th. We were in the drawing room, Isabel at the piano, practicing, as she said, her Aunt Jane and I on opposite side. Isabel, what's the matter? I don't know. I can't seem to keep my mind on anything anymore. Even my music. Nerves. Nerves. Aunt Jane, please. I'm sorry, but I don't believe in beating about the bush. You're an artist. You've got talent. There's no sense of your trying to subordinate yourself to somebody else. Aunt Jane, that's enough. I'm not subordinating myself to anyone. Really, Aunt Jane, you mustn't interfere. You know Robert doesn't want me to go back on stage. Oh, darling, it isn't that I don't want you to go back. I'm proud of you. You know that. It's only because I think. Because I know that going back to a professional career at your present mental condition could be terribly harmful. Yes, I know, Robert. I know. You're right. After all, I am a doctor. It's my business to know these things. I'll get it. Probably in the hospital. Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Graham. Who? Oh, yes, yes. Why, of course. When would you like to see me? All right, fine. No, no, no trouble at all. Very well. I'll be expecting you. Bye, Isabel. Good heavens. Who do you suppose that was? Who? Roger Holcomb. Do you remember the case? Roger Holcomb? Roger Holcomb. I remember it. Of course you do. The fellow who was brought back from the dead, as the newspapers put it, about a year ago. Oh, yes. You know, he really was dead for four full minutes as far as medical science was concerned. Then Bates brought him around. It was a nine days wonder at the time. What does he want to see you about? I don't know. Something to do with his experience. Obviously. He was in a terribly agitated state. Poor fellow. He'd been walking up and down in front of the house for an hour, trying to get up courage during the bell. Finally, he phoned from the corner drugstore. Oh, the poor man. Why in the world would he do that? Anxiety neurosis. They hounded him in the most shocking way when he got out of the hospital. You know, preachers and spiritual and movie agents and just plain fakers. People trying to find out if he remembered anything of the four minutes when he was supposed to be dead. And people just trying to explain. Oh, that's notoriety. Some thrive on it, some don't. One man's meat is another man's poison. Well, that must be Holcomb now. I'll take him into the office. Dr. Graham? Yes. You're Roger Holcomb? Yes. Come in. Thanks. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holcomb. Is it? Sit down. Why did you come to me, Mr. Holcomb? Well, I was told that you specialized in strange cases, things that other men can't explain. Yes, that's true, in a way. You know what happened when I got out of the hospital? How they followed me and questioned me, hounded me day and night, trying to find out if I remembered anything, if I'd experienced anything beyond the grave. Yes, I remember that. Then you remember that my answer was always the same. That I remembered nothing, that I knew nothing. Well, I was robbed. Oh. What did you experience during those four minutes? I don't know, but it must have been something. Something I don't even dare to think about. How do you know this? Well, it happened the first time on a boat trip which I'd taken to recover my health. I found myself chatting with a woman who was seated at my table in the dining salon. She found occasion such women often will to mention her age. She said, after all, I'm not yet 40. And then it happened. What happened? From somewhere came crashing into my mind, a certain knowledge of the exact day and year of that woman's birth. And with it, a compulsion to speak out. A compulsion which I could no more have resisted than I could have resisted breathing. I said, madam, you were born in May, weren't you? May 30th. And then I added the date. The year. 1900. She was well over 40. She'd lied to me. It's an innocent enough thing, but I had known the truth and been forced to speak it. And I have been ever since. Wow. And this condition has existed only since your. Since my four minutes beyond the grave? Yes. It's as though. Well, this will sound. It's as though in that brief time I had glimpsed eternity that I'd seen revealed all truth of all the ages. Now, I know that sounds foolish, but this is most amazing. Tell me you have a family and friends who are understanding. Oh, for heaven's sake, doctor. Don't you understand what this has done to me? Yes. I had a family, friends, girl I was gonna marry today. I'm an outcast, a pariah. I'm shunned, feared. It's hate. Hated. Mr. Holcomb, I believe that this condition is very real to you, causes you very real anguish. And I want to help you. Do you think you can? I am confident that I can. Do you suppose you could arrange to stay with me here at my home? For a matter of weeks or months, if necessary? I'd do anything, anything in the world to be a normal man again. Well, you'll have your own quarters. You'll be quite comfortable, I assure you. Well, I'm sure it's a lovely house. What I've seen of it. Yes, I'm rather lucky. I'm interested in research, primarily. Not much money in that, you know. But a couple of years ago, I came into quite a nice inheritance. The house went with it. What is it? What's the matter? The inheritance was not yours. It was your wife's. The house is your wife's. You are penniless. That is true. I don't know why I lied to you. I suppose I'm sorry. I told you I couldn't help it. I'll go now. No. No, please. It was my fault. It's a small matter. But you see, now I want to help you. Do you believe me now? I believe, Mr. Holcomb. Either that you are far more ill than I realized or that in the months to come, you and I must venture into a realm never before explored by mortal men. MAN for suspense, Roma wines are bringing you Brian Dunleavy in Lazarus Walks, a radio play by Robert L. Richards from a story by J. Marion Speed. Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theatre thrills suspense. Between the acts of suspense. This is Ken Niles for Roma wines. These crisp autumn days, there's real pleasure in coming home to a welcome glass of Roma Grand Estate wine. Yes. For evenings at home or small get togethers with friends, it's smart to serve Grand Estate wines. You can serve Grand Estate wines proudly, to anyone, anytime. For each Grand Estate wine, a limited bottling by Roma is born of choicest grapes, then guided to superb taste richness by patient skill, America's finest winemaking resources and necessary time. Win compliments from your guests with grand estate California wines for entertaining, medium sherry, Ruby port or golden muscatel. For dining, Burgundy or Sauternes. Remember, Grand Estate wines presented by Roma, America's greatest vintner. And while there's time, take advantage of present low Roma prices. Buy a case of assorted Roma wines for the holidays. Do it now and save money. And now, Roma wines bring back to our Hollywood sound stage Brian Donlevy in Lazarus Walks, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. It was utterly fantastic and yet it was true. I checked the facts again. And again, he could not possibly have known. And yet he knew. Can you imagine what this meant to a man of science? If I could fathom the depths of Roger Holcomb's mind, I could make a contribution to the body of scientific knowledge absolutely without parallel in modern times. There remained the problem. I was aware of the danger, of course, but I believed I could control the situation. I determined to proceed. Actually, Holcomb's presence made itself felt almost immediately. The first incident came after he had been with us scarcely a week. Isabel, please stop that playing and listen. Aunt Jane, you know Robert has said I mustn't talk about it. That's bad for me. I don't care what Robert says. I've been sick, that's all. He's made you sick? That's ridiculous. Maybe it's just that he's afraid of losing you. Maybe he's even afraid of losing your money. But I'm absolutely convinced that whether he's meant it or not, he's made you believe there's something the matter with you that isn't. Aunt Jane, I simply forbid you to talk this way. Isabelle. Isabel, do something before it's too late. Do what? Get away, leave him, divorce him, anything. Aunt Jane, you don't know what you're saying. Oh, I hope we're not interrupting. Of course not, darling. Hello, Roger. Hello, Isabel. Mrs. Pot. Good afternoon. How are you feeling, Roger? Better, I think. I think it would be better if we didn't discuss our. Our states of mind. Isabel. Oh, yes. Call. Of course. I'm sorry. Well, would you like me to play something for you? You know, I think I'm beginning to get the feel of it again. Really I do. You're sure we haven't interrupted some conversation? Of course not. We were just discussing how helpful you've been in getting Isabel back to her work again. Roger. No, you are not. You were telling Isabel. Isabel. To divorce her husband. Isabel, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Roger. Roger, come back here. Isabel, is that true? You brought him in here deliberately? Is that true? It doesn't matter. Oh, you've known how I felt for a long time. Yes, I'm afraid I have. Robert, it was all so silly. She didn't mean it. It was just that I did mean it. I'm sorry, Isabel, but I've been under this roof too long as it is. Oh, Aunt Jane, you're not leaving us? It's the best. Yes, I think it is decidedly best that you go at once. It was this incident which gave me my first insight into the relationship which was destined to develop between Isabel, Roger and myself. The first and most obvious result was that Isabelle and I became further estranged as each day passed. It was difficult to speak of even the most casual things with this strangely terrifying specter of truth always at our elbow. The situation reached its inevitable climax the evening that Leopold Syrinsky, the famous conductor of the Los Angeles symphony, was to call on Elizabeth with a view to a resumption of her professional career under his auspices. I gave a great deal of thought to that evening. It had to be handled with the greatest effect. Robert, you. You will help me, won't you? Of course I will, darling. Robert, does he have to have dinner with us tonight, Roger? Isabel, you know how I stand on that. Oh, yes, I know, but just this once. Even once, Isabel. To keep him in his room like a spoiled child when we have guests Might undo everything I've accomplished in weeks. I know, darling. Of course, you're right. But, Roger. Come in. Robert. Yes? I was wondering if I mightn't be excused just tonight. You're having dinner with us, Roger. Must I? You know you must, Roger, and you know why. Roger, don't you Want to meet Mr. Sirinsky? He's really a wonderful person. Yes, indeed. I would, very much. You know Roger. I made my debut with him in 1934. I did a concert with him every year until April, until Isabella was very talented. I was. I am, Roger. I'm going to play with him again. You know, he. He wants me to open the season in November. Can you imagine what it means to me? I'm so glad, Isabel. And Robert has finally given his consent. Haven't you, dear? Robert, I'm sorry. What was it you said, Isabel? I said you'd given your consent to my playing with Sirinsky. I. Isabel, you know I don't want you to think that I'd ever stand in your way. Yes, I know, dear. I'll do the. The emperor concerto and you'll come to hear me. You do want to, don't you, Roger? Well, I. Please, Isabelle, don't ask me things that I can't. What's the matter? What's the matter with both of you? You act as though you thought I wouldn't be able to appear. As though the whole idea were hopeless or something. Isabel, please. I am going to play now. I'll be better than I ever was. You know I will, don't you? Don't you? Yes. Yes, of course. Isabel, you play wonderfully. No. No, Robert. No, that's not true. You're Very certain that Isabel. Isabelle. Will be prevented from ever playing again by death. Death. Oh, Isabelle, forgive me. Forgive me. Death. No. No, it's not true. Tell me it isn't. Roger. Roger, who's going to die. Answer me. Roger, do you hear me? Answer me. Answer me. When Sirinsky arrived, I told him that it would be quite impossible for Isabel to leave her room. The concert was canceled. And indeed, to my knowledge, she has never touched the piano since that day. By now, to even the most capable casual observer, it must appear only natural that Isabel had every motive for a desperate, almost paranoid hatred of Roger Holcomb. As much was clear to me. The rest not yet. As a precautionary measure, I prescribed a drug for Isabel which she at last consented to take. I gave her her own supply, and she administered it to herself as I had directed. But one thing from any point of view was certain. I had to keep Roger and Isabelle apart. Perhaps what I feared was indeed inevitable. I honestly did not think so at the time. Roger. Roger. Yes? It's me, Isabelle. What do you want? Let me in, please. No, please, it's terribly important. Robert said. I know, but he said. He said it would be all right this time. Are you sure? Yes. Yes, please. All right. Now what do you want? I want to talk to you, that's all. What about that's so important? Roger, why don't you ever leave your room anymore? Can't you guess? Do you think I hate you, Isabelle? I don't know what to think. You do, don't you? I warned him. I told him it would happen. Now I'm going mad up here thinking of the anguish I've caused you. But, Roger, I. Don't. You must believe me. I know what it's been like for you having me here. Roger. Roger. You see. You see, for the first time in my life, I think my husband is about something wrong. Yes. Don't you see? He's been worried about both of us. And so this. This distrust has grown up between us. Well, I don't distrust you, Isabelle. You've been more wonderful. But you're. You're afraid of me. And that amounts to the same thing. And it's bad for both of us. It's hurting both of us. I've often felt I wanted to talk to you, to beg your pardon. Oh, Roger, you don't have to do that. We're both. We're both sick. But I. I think if we saw each other sometimes, if we talked the whole thing out, it would help us both. Does. Does Robert think So too. No. Then he didn't tell you it was all right to see me? No. I lied to you. You what? I lied to you. You lied to me and it didn't happen. Isabel, don't you see? I am getting well. It didn't happen. I know. I know, Roger. I don't think it does happen anymore. Except. Except with Robert. With Robert? But what makes you think that I know something about the way he acts, the way he is. But, Isabelle, he is curing me. Then perhaps you should. No. Don't you understand? We must see each other. We must talk. Isabel. Robert, something's happened that I must tell you. Please. You're completely overruled. Robert. Robert, I must insist. Isabel, why did you do this? I'm sorry. You have to have a sedative right away. Isabelle, get the bottle from your room. Mine? Yes, yes. Hurry. All right. Robert, she lied to me. Yes, yes, I know. But, Roger, I must absolutely forbid you to talk now. You must trust me. All right. But later I want to have a long talk. Of course we shall. Here it is. And I brought my hypodermic too. I'm glad you did. The other one's mislaid somewhere. Will you give it to him, please? I. Yes. This has upset me rather badly. My hands are shaking. Oh, Robert, I'm terribly sorry. No matter now. Give him the hypodermic. The upper arm. That's right. Yes. There. Thank you. Leave us now, please, Isabel. Yes, all right. How are you feeling now, Roger? Huh? I'm fine, Robert. I think I'm better than I have been in months. I know you're better. That's why I was so upset. You see. Why, Roger, I can't tell you all my reasons now, but you must trust me and believe in me. I. I do. It's only that I'm afraid for your help, Roger. No. You're afraid of mur. It was clear to me now. I knew I must take immediate action. I knew that the most terrible consequences might result if Isabelle were alone with Roger Holcomb even for a moment. For he knew. He said so. There was no other explanation. I thought it through most carefully. And yet no plans are perfect. No man is infallible. Isabelle. Robert. You frightened me. What were you doing? Why, nothing. Don't lie to me, Isabel. I'm not. I was. You were coming from Roger's room. No. No, I swear I wasn't. Isabelle, don't you understand that you're sick? That I've insisted on these things for your own good and his? All right. I was Going to talk to him. But I haven't. Oh, Isabel. Why do you try to tell me that? It's true, Robert. Really true. Is it Roger? Roger. What? What's the matter? Look, Robert. Oh, no. It couldn't be. It is. He's dead. Dead? The hypodermic by his side. The drug. Your drug. Your hypodermic. But it's only a sedative. Except that in large quantities it's fatal. You know that. Oh, Robert. No. No, listen to me. Oh, Isabel. Why? Why, when I warn you. Robert, look at me. Look at me. It's Isabel. It's your wife. You can't. No. Where are you going? Robert, Come back here. I'm going to call the police. Even though it did not come to me as a shock, even from my point of view as a scientist, it was terrible enough. Yet it had to be done. And I had done it. I did not speak to her as we waited, and she made no further attempts to appeal to me. The police arrived. I told the story with as little emotion as possible. Yeah, yeah. Their fingerprints, all right, on both the bottle and the hypodermic. Those would be my wife's, of course. They both belong to her. Is that true, Mrs. Graham? Yes. Dr. Graham. Do I understand you're formally charging your wife with the murder of Roger Holcomb? You could hardly expect me to do that, could you, Inspector? I am simply telling you the facts. Yeah, well, you've carefully avoided saying anything definite as to your suspicions, Doctor. But I get the distinct impression she hated him. My wife has been mentally ill for some time. There are many people who can testify to that. She will plead insanity, Inspector. Of course. Well, Dr. Graham, I can't tell you how sorry I am. But the things you've told me add up to only one thing, as you yourself obviously recognize. Yes? Your wife, Isabel Graham, murdered Roger Holcomb. What did you say? I said your wife, Isabel Graham, murdered Roger Holcomb. No. No, I did what? The truth is, I murdered him. No. Plans are perfect. No man is infallible. Yes, I killed Roger Holcomb. And I had planned to dispose of Isabel for many months. I had never loved her. I had loved only science. And I wanted her money. And Holcomb found it out. That was the risk I ran, that any chance lie in his presence, either by Isabel or myself, would bring out the truth. And it did. I had no alternative once he discovered that. But to kill him. It was easy enough to throw the blame on Isabel. But I had not counted on that terrible compunction. For the truth. That strange affliction of Roger Holcomb's and its power over me. Did it transfer itself at his death to me? Or was it conscience? It is a pity that it had to end this way. It was a fascinating case. Suspense presented by Roma Wines R O M A made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. And now this is Can Nile. Bringing back to our suspense microphone the star of tonight's play, Brian Donlevy. Well, Brian, we can't give you an Oscar for your outstanding performance tonight, but Roma does want you to enjoy this basket of fine Grand Estate wines. Grand Estate wines. Well, that kind of Oscar has tasted feel, Ken. Right you are, Brian. Here in your basket is Grand Estate California Burgundy and Grand Estate Burgundy. At mealtime, railing makes a difference. You can taste. Yes, Grand Estate Burgundy brings out all the taste goodness in juicy roast beef. Adds to your enjoyment of a good steak. Abrasive sizzling chops. Or even simple hamburgers. You're killing me. I'm starved. I. I never eat before a broadcast. Well, then you'll especially enjoy Grand Estate Burgundy with supper tonight. For Grand Estate Burgundy, like all Grand Estate wines, is at limited bottling of rare distinction. A wine born of the choicest grapes. Then, with infinite patience guided to mellow perfection by the unmatched skill and resources of Roma master vintner. Remember the name. Grand Estate Wine presented by Roma, America's greatest vintner. I'll remember, Ken. And speaking of great names, I understand that you have Jack Carson all set for Suspicion next week. A comedy show, I suppose. Oh, now, come, come, Brian. You know we specialize in the unexpected. On Suspense. No. Mr. Carson will, I think, astonish a great many listeners who think of him as a gay mad jokesmith. They'll hear him really give out with the drama. When he appears on Suspense next Thursday, he'll play a man who wants his freedom badly enough to kill somebody for it. Well, that I've got to hear. Well, thanks, Ken and Bill and L, it's been swell as usual. Well, thank you again, Brian. And we all think you are great. In Paramount's two years before the mass. Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Mr. Jack Carson as star of suspense produced and directed by William Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California. Stay tuned for the thrilling adventures of the FBI in peace and war following immediately over most of these stations. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System. In just a moment, Suspense with Lucille Ball. Hi, Arnold. Well, look who's here. Say, it's mighty nice of you to be sitting around all week. Just to hear me tell more about Autolite. Oh, I haven't been waiting around all week. Why, I was way up in Oregon. Oh, that's. Well, that's. Well. Hey, Hap, do you know the real story about Autolite Stay full batteries. Sure, I know the real story about Autolite Stay full batteries. Needs water only three times a year in normal car use. What? A battery stay full, that is. Why, by Cornelius, an autolyte stay full battery has more liquid reserve than a centipede has legs than an ocean has waves than a rabbit has. Well, rabbits water, Whales spout it, geysers gush it, people drink it. But Autolites stay full batteries carry good old Aquapura so long and so well. They take a drink about as often as you have a birthday, a wedding anniversary and a New Year's celebration. Only three times a year in normal car use. And let me tell you something else. You'd better get an Autolite Stay full battery before. Before you go on some more. Harlow. Let's listen to suspense. Suspense. AutoLight and its 60,000 dealers and service stations bring you radio's outstanding theater of thrills. Starring tonight, Ms. Lucille Ball in Anton Liter's production of A Little Piece of Rope. A tale well calculated. To keep you in suspense. They said I'd never make good here in Hollywood. Everywhere I went, it was the same story. Sure, they'd see me, but the minute they took a look at my baby face, all I'd get was advice and excuses. No job. My last try was for a schoolgirl part. I was too baby faced to even land that one. I was walking home still wearing the school uniform that I'd bought to help me get the part when I got the idea. Then I remembered another thing. It was years ago, reading an old copy of the Police Gazette in Grandpa's attic. Printed about 1880, I guess. With their falsely youthful faces dressed as innocent schoolgirls, these vicious females haunt the vicinity of select young ladies seminaries. And with their airs of artless girlhood, they entice and trap unwary gentlemen. Some from the best of families. It was funny then, but now, well, those gals were suckers. I take the exclusive gents for all they've got and give absolutely nothing. That's how I made good in Hollywood. Up to a thousand dollars a month. Good. I just take a little. I've got uniforms for all the best schools. And I still have the baby face, so help me. Lots of those kids look older than I do. When school's out, I let some old wolf Pick me up. They always want to park up in the hills or some other lonely place. I drop my compact. He bends over to pick it up. I let him have it with a special little blackjack I carry. Then I leave, taking their wallets and any letters I find. You'd be surprised at some of the letters some of them do have. Makes a dandy bank balance now and then, them. Remember, I pick them. Old enough to have families, dignified jobs. Would they want to admit to chasing bobby socks? They never squawk. My landlady thinks I am the ideal tenant. Oh, she's no trouble at all, the poor little thing. Infantile, you know. Has to take long walks every day and rest the rest of the time. Never any fun or dates like other pretty girls. Well, lucky she can afford it, I say. Be a county ward otherwise. And so sweet and quiet. Uncomplaining poor little soul. Yes, Mrs. Tilford is a swell character witness. Of course, I always wear a over those uniforms near home. And I keep them locked up just in case she snoops. Yes, yes, I've got a nice career in Hollywood. That is, I did have until last month. You going out in this cold, Isabel? Oh, this is a good heavy coat. Well, don't you overdo now. These walks are just what the doctor ordered anyway. You sure look healthy enough. Thank heaven for that. Anything I can pick up for you on the way back? Oh, no, thanks, dearie. I got everything done. Goodbye now. Bye. I was dressed for Miss Cadwaller School this time, and it was just letting out when I got there. I didn't have long to wait. You know, you get so you can tell by the way the cars move along the street if the guy's on the prowl. This one was driving a big black coupe and he was a little younger than I liked, about 40. But he can't be too fussy. I stepped off the curb pretending to look for a bus. Waiting for the bus? Why, yes, I am. Which one? The Bel Air bus. Oh, I say, that's a shame. Why, I just passed it back there. Broke an axle. Oh. You know, I think I've seen you passing my house. What street do you live on? Cameron. Oh, sure. I'm just over on Bender. Hop in. I'll take you home. Well, you're a neighbor. I guess It's. Gee, thanks, Mr. Rice. Alex Rice, Insurance. How do you do? Like school? I hate it. School's no fun. I'd like. Oh, what? What? Oh, excitement, danger. I suppose you think I'm pretty silly. No, no, I Think you're the kind of girl who get excitement and danger? Really? Yes, really. Look. It's so early yet. Like to take the long way through the hills. It's pretty there now. Oh, yes, I'd love to. I think the hills are div. Oh, isn't it just out of this world? Yes. Yes, indeed. What's the initial on your bag for? The initial? Yeah. Irma Inez Ingeborg. Ingeborg. You made that up? No. Swedish. Imagine. No. Irene. Irene Taylor. A pretty name for a pretty girl. I'll bet you have beautiful hair and eyes. And a beautiful throat. Wow. Throat. Irene, you're very excited. Oh, Mr. Rice, I dropped my compact. You don't need it. But it might get stepped on. You won't need it. But I want it now. All right. Character, huh? Well, here, roll back a little. There. I. Well, what do you know? Rope. Now, why would a guy carry a piece of rope in his inside breast pocket? Nice wallet. Well, goodbye, Mr. Rice, and thanks for everything. Back home, I showered and changed and settled down to see what was in this wallet worth keeping. Only about 50 bucks. What made it so thick was a lot of newspaper clippings. Oh. Oh, no, it can't be. But it was. Those clippings were all about the strangler who'd murdered five girls in the last year. Left them in the hills with a piece of rope around their necks and never a clue. And Alexander Rice carried his press notices. Alexander Rice carried a little piece of rope in his inside breast pocket. Picked up girls, drove into the hills. And Alexander Rice wasn't his name. No. His driver's license said Benjamin Carney. I had picked up and slugged the strangler. My latest sucker was the most dangerous man in the country. For suspense, Autolite is bringing you Ms. Lucille Ball in radio's outstanding theater of thrills. Suspense. Say there, neighbor, I didn't get going very well on those Autolite Stay full batteries. Now, look here, Hollow Wilcox. Never mind. I'm right back in there pitching. Gee, if I could only tell you about every one of those 400 auto light automotive, aviation and marine products. But that takes real breath. Lots of breath. And while I'm not as short on taking breath as an auto light, stay full. Battery is on taking a drink. Not by a jugful, even. I just haven't got enough breath for that. Well, if you just stop talking so much, I won't sure wind up and sound off on those Autolite stay full batteries. Though making camels look like topers is just the beginning. With them, they've got oversized electrical capacity plus fiberglass insulation. You know what that means, my friend? Sure, I know what that means. It means you should find out for yourself how long these batteries are bound to live. You'd have to hibernate like Rip Van Winkle. I guess you could at that if you had an auto light stay full battery in your car. I've got an auto light. By the way, those auto light engineers designed. That auto light stay full battery is so darned ingenious by Cornelius that you could pay as little attention to your auto light stay full battery as Rip Van Winkle did to old Father Time. Go down to your Autolite dealer and get one right away. There's no better buy in batteries, my boy, because no better batteries be behind the byline of Barlow Billcox. Now, look. I mean, Wilcox, you got bees in my bonnet. Now, if you'll only pipe down, we'll hear some more of suspense. And now, Auto Light brings back to a Hollywood soundstage. Ms. Lucille Ball as Isabelle in A Little Piece of Rope, a tale well calculated to keep you in. Susan Spend. At first, I just shivered over my narrow escape. Why, if I hadn't been out to get him, he'd have gotten me. I'd be number six in tomorrow's headlines. Then I suddenly realized I was the only one who could identify him. I can't be silent, let him go on killing. I've got to go to the police station and tell them. I started to go out when it occurred to me I couldn't. I didn't dare go to the police and take the chance of exposing my own racket. If that ever came out. And it probably would. San Quentin, here I come. It seems they're a little stuffy about people who carry blackjacks and steal wallets and sell letters. So instead, I went for a walk, a real one this time, and tried to think. Pretty soon, another thought hit me. He knew I could identify him by now. The strangler was no fool. He'd have me figured out and know the kind of place and time to look for me. And he'd certainly be looking for me to kill me, to shut my mouth forever. I had to find a way to City Desk Thompson. I. I know who the strangler is. Who's this? I can't tell you that. Oh, I see. Well, what can you tell me? You know his name. Benjamin Carney. Carney. C A R N E Y. 1156 A, Boydell Street. Yeah. Description? About 45, 9 or 10, 160 pounds. Dark hair, eyes, skin, even features, not ugly, not handsome. Drives a big black coupe. Lady, late model. Got it. Any identifying marks? Mustache? No, nothing. And how do you know this guy's the Strangler? I just know. Goodbye. Hey, wait a minute. Wait a minute. So you can trace the call? There had been hundreds of phony clues and he thought mine was another. But surely they'd checked that name and address. All the way home I had a creepy feeling he was around somewhere, following me, waiting. Evening paper barely mentioned my call, just listed it with several others. Radio wasn't very much better. An unidentified woman phoned in a description of the killer as a 40 year old brunette, medium height and weight, with no distinguishing features, driving a new black coupe. Police checks revealed that such a man with the name she gave had moved from the address given several months before the first of the Strangler murders. But there is no further trace of him. Investigation continues, but it is believed this is another spite accusation. A Portland, Oregon woman reported the strangler as the man who entered her hen house last night. And no use phoning again. I didn't think a letter would help much either. But I tried being careful. It couldn't be traced to me and mailed it to a newspaper that night. Hey, Mike. Mike, you going to the courthouse? Take this to O'Shea, will you? Another Strangler letter telling all. Why can't he just strangle letter writers? One more and I'll strangle somebody. Another failure. The letter wasn't even printed. I was getting jumpy from being cooped up like a prisoner. What if he couldn't find me? As long as I stayed home, I was losing money every day. I didn't pull my act, I could leave town. But why should I give up this good thing? My, my perfect setup. I've been doing fine. Another year I could quit the racket, make friends, invest my money, maybe even get married. Now this had happened, I'd never be safe, not as long as we both lived. I finally faced it. I have to find him and kill him. This time. I put an ad in the personals column. Would he see it? Well, I'd run it till he did. AK Rice can book your rope act for mutual profit. Have immediate out of town engagement. Signed Slugger rope act, mutual profit. I knew that would get him because it sounded like black. And by pretending to fall for a shakedown, he'd hope to get close enough to kill me. Only it was gonna be the other way around. And so our strange correspondence began. He answered right away. Slugger Interested in offers? Send details. Box 047M298. Rice. I had him hooked. I didn't lose any time writing. Dear Mr. Rice, I have an invention which I think you'll want for your robot. It's expensive, but remember, it's completely silent and yours exclusively if we agree on terms. Signed, Slugger. Completely silent. It's delicious and expensive. Yes, indeed, Slugger. Give price and details of contract. Rice. So close now. I couldn't afford the slightest mistake. Now or. Dear Mr. Rice, 5,000 cash buys complete assortment of paper and leather goods. Time and place of meeting must be my choice. But decide I must leave town immediately. Signed, slugger. P.S. you should never have left that snapshot in your wallet. It's awfully good of you. Snapshot? I thought I. Oh, no, I didn't burn it. So the little lady's in a jam, needs money to hide out, and I can help her, make her get away. Oh, I can indeed, Slugger. Price. Okay, we'll close at your convenience. Rice. I've got him. My plan was as foolproof as I could make it. I packed a suitcase with the kind of clothes I'd hate to to be found dead in. And maybe I would be. And told Mrs. Milford I was taking a vacation with friends. Oh, I'm so glad, dearie. I said to Ms. Knight yesterday, that child should have country air. City air just don't do the same for you. Yes, I know. It'll do me good. And you stay longer if they ask you. Don't worry about me holding the apartment for you. Well, Thanks a lot, Mrs. Tilford. It's certainly nice of you. I have to catch that train now. Goodbye. Goodbye. Have a nice time now. I took those awful clothes to the bus depot, changed, washed and let the soap dry on my face till it was white and shiny. And 10 years older with my hair skinned back tight under an old beret. I saw a stranger in the mirror. Baby Face was gone. Good. No one had noticed me. And looking like this, nobody would. Then I walked to another apartment I'd rented by phone last week. It was in a dingy neighborhood. I'm Ms. Sproat. Oh, Ms. Sproat. You can move right in. The people left yesterday. Here. This the key? It's the first door at the head of the stairs. Fine. I'll go right up. It ain't clean yet. Them stairs bother me so. I'd really rather do it myself, thank you. Well, I'll just leave you alone, then. Now, I was Ms. Annie Sproat, librarian. And I Looked as much like Isabel Townes baby face as an alley cat. Looks like a Persian. I sat down to write the last letter. Dear Mr. Rice, come to 6:09 Fitzgilbert Place at 10pm Friday and don't try to come near me or I'll scream my head off. Tap five times. Come in and stand right by the door while we make sure neither of us is double crossing the other. Have the money in an unsealed envelope. I want that traveling money, but I'd rather take a chance on the cops than on you. So follow instructions, slugger. You fool. You baby faced fool. He'd have to make sure the layout was right before he'd dare attack me. The more precautions I took, the more he'd believe I was on the. Near the door where he'd stand, I put a chest with a lamp on it. That was my booby trap, that lamp. The room was so dimly lit he'd. He'd have to light my lamp to look at the wallet. And when he pulled the light chain, he'd shoot himself. I had a gun fixed where the bulb should be and the chain pulled the trigger. It was set to get him in the chest heart, if I was lucky, dead or not. I'd leave him there for the cops with his wallet and clippings. Pretty cute, huh? And I'd skip out the back way with all that beautiful money. Go to depot, become Isabel Townes again, safe and free. I wore gloves all the time I was there in the suitcase with Isabel Towne's identity in it was ready by the back door. The hours passed like centuries and the old house creaked like a sick old man in a squeaky bed. Of course, it might be the house or it might be someone on the stairs. And then it was 10 o'clock. I was standing at the other end of the room facing the door. The light was very dim. I heard the feet coming up the stairs. Or. Or was it just the creaking of the old house? No. Good evening, slugger. You see I'm prompt, sluggard. Stand where you are. Certainly. Did you bring the money? Yes, indeed. Here, miss, envelope. Throw it down in the middle of the room between us. Go ahead, throw it down. It'll stay there while you examine the leather goods. Do you have the wallet here? Yes. Throw the money. I can't reach it from here, you know. It's quite safe. All right. There. The wallet. Where is it? On that chest beside you. By the lamp. Yes. Well, thanks, slugger. Aren't you going to look to see that everything's there? Why should I? I trust you. So long, baby face. See you around. He's gotten away Alive. He must have guessed I'd done something to the lamp. So he was still alive and still dangerous. But at least I had the money. The $5,000. I picked up the envelope and opened it. There was nothing in it but pieces of newspaper cut to the size of bills. Why, you dirty cheat. I ran to the door and opened it. I looked out, but he wasn't in sight. Maybe I could catch him before he got out of the house. You won't get away with this. I stepped into the hall, and before I could turn, I felt the rope around my neck. His hands were pulling it tight. Baby, I told you I'd see you around, didn't I? There you are, baby. You're paid off in full. Now I'll just go back inside. Let's see. I guess you'll be safe on the floor while we finish our business. Now, I'll take a look at that wallet. Baby, you might have held out some of those clippings. I'll just turn on this light. Thank you, Lucille Ball, for a splendid performance. Ms. Ball will return in just a moment. Say, Hap, you going back to Oregon? Well, hold on. It's a nice trip if you can get it with an auto Light Stay full battery. You know, I'd advise you to get a sign for your thumb saying, any car with auto light stay full batteries can carry me. I forgot my canteen. But how? No, of course. You could buy an auto Light Stay full Battery and simply insist that whoever picked you up use your battery. But you couldn't get back to Oregon that way. No, sir. They'd never let you out of the car just so they could keep that wonderful Autolite Stay full battery. Let's see. After you got to Oregon, you could go to Washington, Montana, Minnesota, Maine, New York and. Hello. I've been trying to tell you. I've got an Autolite Stay full battery. Oh, well, then you know that Auto light means battery Stay full battery. Auto light means spark plugs, Ignition engineered spark plugs. Autolite means ignition system, the lifeline of your car. And now, Here again is Ms. Lucille Ball. It's always a great pleasure to appear on suspense, especially when the part is so unusual and exciting. That's right, Ms. Ball. The part of Isabel tonight was very different from your regular radio role on My Favorite Husband Plug. Why not? Why not something like. Listen to Lucille Ball as Liz KU got on My Favorite Husband Every Saturday night over your favorite CBS station. All right. Wonderful. And I hope all of you will be listening next week when suspense presents William Powell in a role that's also different from the parts he's been playing lately. He's playing a man who's just stolen a quarter of a million dollars and then finds out that. But you'll hear about it next Thursday when suspense brings you Give me liberty. Another gripping study in suspense. Lucille Ball may soon be seen in the Paramount production, Sorrowful Jones. Barry Kroger was heard tonight in the part of the Strangler. Tonight's the suspense play was written by Virginia Cross with music composed by Lucian Morowek and conducted by Lud Gluskin. The entire production was under the direction of Anton M. Leader. In the coming weeks, suspense will present such stars as John Garfield, Margaret O'Brien, Sydney Greenstreet, Agnes Moorhead, Edmund O'Brien and many others. Make it a point to listen each Thursday to suspense radio's outstanding theater of thrills. And next Thursday, same time, hear William Powell in Give give me Liberty. This is the Autolite suspense show. Here's your party, Ms. Ball. We should all support our local community chest and their drives for funds. Money is badly needed for aid to the handicapped, child care, hospitals, clinics, and a host of other humanitarian services. Subscribe to your local community chest. Everybody benefits, everybody gives. Thank you. This is cbs, the Columbia broadcasting system. We just heard Orson Welles in Donovan's Brain, Robert Young and you'll never see me again, Edward G. Robinson in the man who thought he was Edward G. Robinson, Brian Donlevy in Lazarus Walks, and Lucille Ball in a little piece of rope. That will do it for episode 400 of Stars on suspense. Thanks for joining me today. I'll be back in next week for more old time radio thrillers. In the meantime, you can check out down these Mean Streets, my old time radio detective podcast. New episodes of that show are out every Sunday. If you like what you're hearing, don't be a stranger. You can rate and review it in Apple podcasts or wherever you listen. And if you'd like to lend support to the show and every bid is appreciated, you can visit buymeacoffee.com meansts otr. Now, good night until next week when I'll be back with another Hollywood legend in tales well calculated to keep you in suspense. Ladies and gentlemen, the chief hope of our enemies is to divide the United States along racial and religious lines and thereby conquer us. Let's not spread prejudice. A divided America is a weak America. Through our behavior, we encourage the respect of our children and make them better neighbors to all races and religions. Remind them that being good neighbors has helped make our country great and kept her free. Thank you.