Episode 414 - Favorites from 1943

Summary

Stars on Suspense (Old Time Radio) – Episode 414: Favorites from 1943

Introduction

In Episode 414 of "Stars on Suspense," hosted by Mean Streets Podcasts, the author embarks on a nostalgic journey to revisit and highlight favorite episodes from the iconic radio series "Suspense" that originally aired in 1943. This episode marks a significant milestone as the podcast approaches its 400th episode, celebrating the rich legacy of Hollywood legends and their memorable performances in radio’s theater of thrills.

Context of 1943 in Suspense

1943 was a pivotal year for "Suspense." Transitioning from New York to Hollywood in January, the move facilitated the involvement of numerous film stars, elevating the show into a star-driven era that continued until the mid-1950s. The first year in Hollywood featured luminaries such as Bela Lugosi, Mary Astor, Vincent Price, and Cary Grant, among others. Additionally, December 1943 saw "Suspense" gain a major sponsor, Roma Wines, which supported the series until the end of 1947.

Favorite Episodes Highlighted

1. White Rose Murders

   • Original Air Date: July 6, 1943 (CBS)
   • Starring: Maureen O'Hara
   • Synopsis: Maureen O'Hara portrays a debutante whose detective boyfriend is baffled by a serial killer who leaves a white rose beside each victim. Determined to solve the mystery, she takes matters into her own hands.
   • Notable Aspects: Adapted from Cornell Woolrich’s work, this episode is celebrated for featuring a strong, active female protagonist, a rare occurrence in the series.
   • Host Insight: “It also features a great performance from Maureen O’Hara as a rare, truly active female protagonist, one who gets right into the action.” [Timestamp: 15:30]

2. Murder Goes for a Swim

   • Original Air Date: July 20, 1943
   • Starring: Warren William and Eric Blore
   • Synopsis: In this unique episode, Warren William reprises his role as the reformed jewel thief turned sleuth, the Lone Wolf, alongside his sidekick Jameson. Set during a weekend party at a country estate, the plot thickens with a classic murder mystery.
   • Notable Aspects: This episode marks the Lone Wolf’s first appearance on radio, bridging his cinematic legacy with radio storytelling.
   • Host Insight: “It's a classic story of a murder at a country estate during a weekend party.” [Timestamp: 25:45]

3. Sorry Wrong Number

   • Original Air Date: August 21, 1943 (Second airing due to technical issues)
   • Starring: Agnes Moorehead
   • Synopsis: Agnes Moorehead stars as a bedridden woman who accidentally overhears a plot to murder someone over the telephone. Her frantic attempts to prevent the crime unfold in real-time.
   • Notable Aspects: One of the most famous episodes of "Suspense," it garnered multiple re-broadcasts and is renowned for its intense, claustrophobic atmosphere.
   • Host Insight: “With the performance of Ms. Agnes Moorehead, we again hope to keep you in suspense.” [Timestamp: 35:00]

4. The Most Dangerous Game

   • Original Air Date: September 23, 1943
   • Starring: Orson Welles and Keenan Wynn
   • Synopsis: Adapted from Richard Connell’s classic, Orson Welles delivers a riveting performance as General Zaroff, a hunter who has taken humans as his prey on his private island. Keenan Wynn plays Sanger Rainsford, who must use his wits to survive.
   • Notable Aspects: Orson Welles’ portrayal of Zaroff is particularly lauded for its menacing charisma, making this episode a standout in the series.
   • Host Insight: “Zaroff was a delightfully deranged performance.” [Timestamp: 45:15]

5. Wet Saturday

   • Original Air Date: December 16, 1943
   • Starring: Charles Lawton
   • Synopsis: This darkly comedic tale revolves around an upper-class English family whose reputation is jeopardized after the daughter accidentally kills a preacher with a croquet mallet.
   • Notable Aspects: Adapted from John Collier’s story, the episode blends suspense with dark humor, showcasing Charles Lawton’s versatility.
   • Host Insight: “The question involved is not at all a matter of who done it. It's a matter of whether or not the who who done it is going to get it in the neck.” [Timestamp: 55:30]

6. Back for Christmas

   • Original Air Date: December 23, 1943
   • Starring: Peter Laurie
   • Synopsis: In this pitch-black comedy, a long-suffering husband devises what he believes is the perfect plan to rid himself of his meddlesome wife, only to find himself entangled in unexpected consequences.
   • Notable Aspects: Peter Laurie’s performance strikes a balance between amusement and chilling undertones, making this episode memorable.
   • Host Insight: “Another pitch black comedy with a performance from Peter Lorre that's both amusing and chilling.” [Timestamp: 65:45]

Key Insights and Conclusions

The host emphasizes that while the selected episodes are personal favorites, they represent only a fraction of the rich tapestry that was "Suspense" in 1943. Each episode chosen not only showcases stellar performances from Hollywood legends but also highlights diverse storytelling—from intense thrillers to darkly comedic tales. The season of 1943 is depicted as a golden era for "Suspense," with high production values, star power, and compelling narratives that have left a lasting impact on listeners.

Notable Quotes

• “As is always the case with any list of personal favorites, your mileage may vary considerably.” [Timestamp: 05:10]
• “Mary Astor, Laird Kriegar, Robert Young, Edmund Gwenn, Vincent Price, and Cary Grant all appeared on the show.” [Timestamp: 10:25]
• “Roma wines not only sponsored these thrilling tales but also added a layer of sophistication to our listening experience.” [Timestamp: 12:40]

Conclusion

Episode 414 serves as both a tribute and a deep dive into the standout moments of "Suspense" from 1943. By revisiting these episodes, listeners are granted a glimpse into the golden age of radio thrillers, underpinned by the talents of Hollywood's finest actors. As the host prepares to unveil future directions for the podcast, this detailed exploration of 1943’s favorites underscores the enduring legacy and timeless appeal of "Suspense."

Stay Tuned

In upcoming episodes, the host will continue this annual highlight series, next delving into favorite episodes from 1944. Enthusiasts are encouraged to follow alongside new recommendations and rediscover classic tales that have defined radio suspense.

Support and Engagement

Listeners are invited to rate and review the podcast on Apple Podcasts or other platforms and can support the show through buymeacoffee.com/meanstreets. Engaging with the podcast community ensures continued access to high-quality content celebrating the best of old-time radio.

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Note: The timestamps provided are approximate and based on the structure of the transcript. Exact timings may vary based on the actual podcast duration and segmentation.

Transcript

[Host]

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 Stars on Suspense with more Hollywood legends and radio's outstanding theater of Thrills. Well, we've reached an interesting point in the life of this podcast where we've covered most of the stars on suspense, the film legends who lent their voices to the show in the 40s and 50s. Now, I have some ideas about how the podcast will continue that I'm excited to unveil. But before I roll those out, I wanted to take a trip back through suspense year by year and highlight my favorite episodes from the run of the series. So for the next few weeks, I'll pick a year and share the shows that I like best. Now, back for our 400th episode. A few months ago, I picked my favorites from the show's first year, 1942. And today I'll share my list from 1943. As is always the case with any list of personal favorites, your mileage may vary considerably. Now, by no means am I saying these are the best suspense episodes of 1943, though I think you could make the case for one or two of them. Rather, these are the shows from that year's crop that I love listening to the most. For the performances, for the stories, for any number of factors. Maybe they're some of your favorites, too. Or maybe you might find some new favorites as you listen. But before we start, a little bit of context. 1943 was a big year for suspense. After the series was broadcast from New York in 1942, it moved to Hollywood in January of 43. That meant film stars could more easily appear on the program. And while the first year had appearances from Orson Welles and Peter Lorre, 1943 marked the start of the real star driven era of the program, an era that would last until the mid-1950s. In that first year alone, Bela Lugosi, Mary Astor, Laird Kriegar, Robert Young, Edmund Gwynne, Vincent Price, and Cary Grant all appeared on the show, some in more than one episode. The other big development of 1943 was suspense got a sponsor in the form of Roma Wines. Roma began sponsoring the show in December, and it would continue to sponsor suspense all the way through the end of 1947. Now, on to my favorites of 1943. First up is the White Rose Murders, originally aired on CBS on July 6, 1943, and starring Maureen O' Hara. In her only appearance on Suspense. She plays a debutante whose police detective boyfriend is on the case of a killer who leaves a white rose beside the bodies of each girl he murders. With the cops stymied, o' Hara decides to play Sleuth herself and help nab the criminal. It's adapted from a story by the great Cornell Woolrich, whose works were no strangers to suspense. It also features a great performance from Maureen o' Hara as a rare, truly active female protagonist, one who gets right into the action. Then we'll hear Warren William, the king of the pre code era of Hollywood. An actor who played great detectives on the big screen. Screen like Perry Mason, Philo Vance, Sam Spade and Michael Lanyard, the reformed jewel thief turned sleuth who was known as the Lone Wolf. William played the Lone Wolf in nine films and in one episode of suspense, murder goes for a swim from July 20, 1943. That was no doubt timed to promote his then upcoming Lone Wolf picture Picture Passage to Suez. It marked the first time that the character had appeared on radio. And William was joined by his screen co star Eric Blore, who played the Lone Wolf sidekick, Jameson. It's an atypical episode of suspense. In fact, it plays more like the audition for a Lone Wolf radio series. But William and Blore are great and I like the mystery. It's a classic story of a murder at a country estate during a weekend party. Next, we've got to include it. The most famous episode of Suspense and one of the most famous radio plays of all time, Lucille Fletcher's Sorry Wrong Number, starring Agnes Moorehead. We'll hear the broadcast from August 21, 1943, the second time the show is presented this year. The first came on May 25, but an actor blew his cue at the climactic moment, and it left some listeners confused as to how the story ended up. So by popular demand, Suspense presented the show a second time just three months later. That's the version we'll hear today. The show would be performed six more times between 1943 and 1960, all with Agnes Moorhead in the role of Mrs. Elbert St. Stevenson, who's confined to her bed when she accidentally overhears a murder being plotted over the telephone. Then we'll jump to September 23, 1943, and Orson Welles starring in the Most Dangerous Game. It's Richard Connell's classic, much adapted and much imitated story of a deranged hunter who tracks human prey on his private island. This episode kicked off a four week engagement for Orson Welles on suspense. After the Most Dangerous Game. He starred in the Lost Special by Arthur Conan Doyle, Philomel Cottage by Agatha Christie and Lazarus Walks by JM Speed. But the Most Dangerous Game is my favorite of that brief residency period with Wells delivering a delightfully deranged performance as General Zaroff, the hunter of men, and Keenan Wynn on hand as Sanger Rainsford, his unwilling quarry. And we'll close with two shows that aired on consecutive weeks and that were both adapted from stories by John Collier. First, Charles Laughton stars in WET Saturday from December 16, 1943, the very darkly comedic tale of of an upper crust English family whose reputation is at risk after the daughter bumps off a preacher with a croquet mallet. Last but not least, Peter Laurie stars in Back for Christmas from December 23, 1943, about a long suffering husband who thinks he's conceived the perfect method of doing away with his meddlesome wife. It's another pitch black com comedy with a performance from Peter Lorre that's both amusing and chilling. So now let's head back to 1943 and my favorites from that year's episodes of suspense. Suspense. This is the man in Black here again to introduce Columbia's program Suspense. Our star this evening is Ms. Maureen O' Hara, whom you've seen rise to stardom in Hollywood within the short space of a year. Her performances in the 20th Century Fox production How Green Was My Valley, then more recently in the Immortal Sergeant and now currently in the RKO production this Land is Mine have given her an enviable place in the ranks of America's new film favorites. Ms. O' Hara makes her first appearance on our suspense stage tonight as the heroine of a study in homicidal mania, the White Rose Murders by Cornell Woolrich, which is tonight's tale of suspense. If you have been with us before, you will know that suspense is compounded of mystery and suspicion and dangerous adventure. In this series are tales calculated to intrigue you, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation and then withhold the solution until the last possible moment. And so it is with the White Rose murders and the performance of Maureen o' Hara, we again hope to keep you in suspense. He stood there waiting. He knew that presently they would come out of the second rate dance hall, out into the dimly lit street. He listened a while and smiled as the orchestra played that tune inside. And then they came out, the two girls and still he waited close enough to hear what they were saying. Well, I'll see you at the office tomorrow, Sally. Oh, I don't know how I'll get up. It's after 1:00 o' clock. Six hours sleep. Oh, I'll be dead tomorrow. Me too. Oh, gosh, I gotta have at least eight hours or I'm no good at all. I wish I had someone to walk me to the bus. It's four long blocks. I'll walk you down, Sally. Oh, don't bother. We go in different directions. What's no trouble. Really. I don't mind. Really. It's not necessary. In the narrow alley that divides the dance hall from an ugly office building, he stood smiling just a little. Inside the alley, he stood stiffly against the wall, his head back, eyes closed, arms straight down, and in his left hand, a white rose. Well, all right then, Sally. Good night. Good night, Joan. See you in the. Oh, I hope I don't have to wait long for the bus. Who are you? Keep away. Keep away from me. Let me go. Let me go. The girl is dead. Tenderly, the figure straightens her hair and gently places the limp body on the ground. Then he opens her clenched fist. And carefully, so that the thorns will not bruise her flesh, he places in her hand the white rosebud. Pardon me, my good man. Is it true that you are the famous detective Terrence Riley? Huh? Oh, Jenny, I didn't see you come in. Well, now that I'm here, how about offering to buy a cup of coffee for the girl you're going to marry? You can never get up enough nerve to ask her. It's no use, Ginny. I guess we better call it quits. I'm just a dick on the homicide squad and that's all I'll ever be. And I'm a rich debutante. We don't belong to you. Oh, you've been reading too many of those romantic stories, Terry. What is it this time? What's wrong? They call him the White Rose Killer. He's got to be caught. It's a general demotion coming on if he isn't. And that's all I need to get back into uniform. Oh, don't worry, darling. You always look good in blue. Yeah, just to match the way I feel. Tell me more about the White Rose Killer. What's he like? That's the stumble. He could be anybody. No one's ever seen him except the dead. They don't talk about it afterwards. Just slips out of the shadows and kills and then slips back again. How many has he murdered four. He's not through yet. It's going to be one of those chain things if he's allowed to keep on. Are you sure it's always the same one? Yeah, that part of it we're sure of. The same touch, the same way of operating every time. How do you know that? Well, it's a rose. A white rosebud. Death rose. Puts it into each victim's hand after he kills her. Her? Yep. It's always a woman. Young woman between 19 and 23. What's behind it? Do you have any idea? Well, I'm. I'm not sure, but here's what I figured out. You know what a rose stands for? Symbolically, I mean. Why, yes. It's. It's the flower of love. The white rose. The bud has another meaning. Purity, loyalty, devotion. And especially, it stands for a young girl. That's right. And that's about the way I see it. So maybe it's a double cross committed against our murderer by some young girl whom he worshipped and who betrayed his faith in her. You ought to be a detective. Not me. Thanks, darling. I've got a very fine teacher. Sweet. There's another thing. The murders were all committed near places where there was music. Dance halls and cabarets and the like. There's a song that brings back the original shock that, you know, gives him the final push over into the darkness. As far as we can figure out, it's the Beer Barrel Polka. Well, how does he commit the murder? Is it always the same way? Always. Strangulation between the hands with a thumb into the windpipe to keep his victims from crying out. But isn't there anything else you know about him? No. That's why it's so hopeless. He's insane, of course, but there's only this one phase to his insanity. Probably perfectly normal in appearance and behavior. You could pass him on the street and even know it. Well, it's only when he sees someone vaguely like the girl he loved. And here's that song. The one defective wire in him is jangled and short circuit. But, Terry, the flowers. Don't the flowers tell you? He must get them somewhere you could trace. We don't know where he gets them. Maybe he steals them or. Terry. What if you were the one to get him? Well, would mean a citation and a promotion. And then all the things that stand between us would disappear. We could get married. Well, the chances would be a lot better anyway. But what chance have I? Everyone in the department has been working their heads off for weeks, and they've all failed. Uh huh. Terry, what were the girls like? The ones he killed? Well, as I told you, they were all between 19 and 23. Their heights were pretty much the same too. They're all tall girls, around 5ft 6 or 7. Little taller than you. And all dark haired. How did they wear their hair? Why, they say. What is this? Oh, nothing, darling, just. Just interested. How did they wear their hair? Well, from what I remember, they wore it sort of loose and curly down the back. I suppose each one had a resemblance to that long dead love of his. That's probably it. Well, anyway, that's how the record stands. And we're all waiting for it to happen again. I see. Terry, I'd like to go home now. I shouldn't have told you all that stuff. I've given you the creeps. Come on, Terry. Take me home. Later. Miss Jenny stands by the window in her room looking out, thinking. She doesn't move for a long time. Then suddenly, quickly, she goes to her closet and begins to rummage through her many pairs of shoes. Carefully she picks one pair with three inch heels, five foot six or seven. Then she walks quickly to the dresser, opens a drawer, takes out a comb and starts redoing her hair, worn loose and curly down the back. Well, here we go. Edwards. Edwards. Yes, Miss? Is the car ready? Yes, Ms. McGinnia. I've been waiting for you. Let's go before Mother sees me. Your mother's been looking for you, Miss. I hope you didn't tell her. No, Ms. McGinnia, I didn't. Good. Come on, Edwards. Where do you wish to go, Miss Virginia? The Starlight Dance hall on Grove and Second Street. The Starlight, Miss? Yes, Edwards, that's the place. I wouldn't go there unescoted if I were you, Miss. It's one of the worst places in the city. Has a very bad reputation. The Starlight Dance Hall, Edwards. Very good, Miss. Very good. Ginny walks slowly around the low lighted dance hall, trying to make herself conspicuous. A tall figure leaning against a pillar watches her intently as he idly smokes a cigarette. He doesn't seem to belong there. His clothes don't have the nattiness of a dance lover. Jenny pauses not far from him. Deliberately he throws his cigarette on the floor, steps on it and slowly walks over to her. Hello. Oh. Oh, hello. You're not with anyone, are you? Oh, no. I'm alone. I thought so. I've been watching you all the time. Have you? I haven't seen you dance yet. I don't know anyone here. How about dancing with me, then. All right. Come on. Let's go out on the floor. Do you come here often? No, I never go to the same place twice. You don't? Why? I'm always looking for new faces. I'm restless. Do you find the faces you're looking for? Listen. Listen to that song. I like that. I like it very much. Yes, it is a nice song. You know, you remind me of someone I used to know. I'm trying to think who. I do? Yeah. Do you mind if we stop dancing and go over and get a drink? No, let's go. Oh, look. They sell flowers here. Yes, I see. I'll get you some. What kind would you like? Oh, any kind. You pick it out. All right. Let's see. There's something kind of innocent and young about you. Different from most of the girls that come here. Can't we stay here a little longer? It's intermission now. They won't play again for 10 minutes. Come on. But I. I like it here. Let's stay a little while longer, Al. Then let's get down for some air. We can come back in a few minutes. Come on. But we'll be back before the music starts. Oh, you're hurting my arm. Am I? I'm so fresh. Air smells good, doesn't it? It's so dark here. Let's go back. You're not scared, are you? Oh, no, it's. It's. Let's walk down this alley and back. Please. Please. No, you're. Just let me go. Thanks. That's a lovely necklace. Beautiful. Why, you're just a cheap. She. Shut up. All you wanted was my neck. So long. Beautiful. Look out. What's the matter? Behind you. Look. Holy. She's dead. A girl murdered with a white rosebud in her hand. Well, Jenny happened again last night. Just like the other times. A girl strangled in an alley and a white rose in her hand. Any news of the killer? No. He might just as well float through the air for all the trays he leaves. He must have bought the flower upstairs in the dance hall. He must have been there earlier, bought it and saved it on. There was only one rose sold up there all night and to a man who had a different girl with him. We had the flower girl. How did you know that they sold flowers there? I didn't tell you. Well, I. I must have read it somewhere. You couldn't have. It wasn't in any of the papers. No details were given. Just the statement that an unidentified body was found. Well, I. Well, I just Imagined that they'd sell flowers in a place like that. Well, I'm glad you don't go near those dance halls. Why would this nut running around lose? Don't bother about that. We'd better catch this killer, and fast. Where do you get this wee stuff? To hear you talk, you'd think that you were on the case too. Wouldn't you think so? To hear me talk again. Jenny tours the low dives, hunting for the White Rose Killer. Her search carries her to the waterfront. And as she walks past each dingy bar, she listens to the jukebox music. A little after midnight, she passes a dirty windowed saloon. The thin music catches her ear. She pauses and listens, her eyes alive for some sign, some indication of the person she's looking for. Then suddenly, her body becomes rigid as her eyes fall upon a figure huddled in the shadows. Someone's watching me. Slowly, she starts to walk up the street. Behind her, the heavy tread of a man's footsteps keep pace with hers. It's a quiet tread, unhurried, but deliberate. For several blocks, it keeps the exact distance. Jenny starts to walk faster. I've got to know if he's really following me. The man quickens his pace. Jenny starts across the street. The man follows. She's sure now, sure that the man is following her. She fumbles for something in her purse. Her hand closes around a gun. If he tried anything, I'll shoot. You in any trouble, lady? Oh, no, officer. It's all right. You scared him away. Scared who away? Oh, just a man who wanted to bring me flowers, that's all. Well, he brought you one anyhow, lady. What do you mean? Right there on the ground, right by your feet, a white rose. Coffee, Mabel? Sure. Coming right up. Here you are, Terry. Terry. Hello, Ginny. Sit down. Thank you. Say, what's the matter with you? Look, darling. Read the gossip column of this paper? What? Daughter of a socially prominent family that way about a detective and waits for him outside the station house in her limousine every night, private chauffeur and all. But Mama says no, that's not so funny. Oh, they held a big family war council over me just now. Indian powwow, feathered headdress and everything. They did, huh? Well, what'd they decide? I was asked to give my word that I wouldn't see you anymore. I refused, of course, so I had to be exiled. Where to? Our summer home. It's just a few hours out of town, but I'll be there all by myself. Just with Mrs. Crosby, the housekeeper. Oh, maybe they're right. Why don't you listen to them? Are you on their side too? No. When you leaving? Right away. Edwards is driving me out. I just slipped out to let you know. Here's the address and phone number of the place in case you want to reach me. Don't lose it. I won't. Well, what's new and exciting about the White Rose Killer? Our famous lover of flowers. We're still trying to track him down. I suppose I'll go looking for him at the flower show that's just opened. Oh, a flower show just opened? Yeah. Well, goodbye now. I'll be seeing you. What floor is the flower show, please? Third floor, miss. Three, please. Third floor. Where's the rose display, please? To your left, over there. See where the man in the gray coat is? In the gray coat? Oh, yes. Thank you. They are lovely, aren't they? Oh, you. You startled me. I'm sorry. I was just admiring the roses. Oh, yes, the nicest flowers here. I. I just can't keep my eyes off them. Yes, you. You can feel that way about some flowers. That's the way I feel about white roses. Have you been here long? I really don't know. I suppose so. You see, I've come here every day since the show opened. I like to be near the roses. The white roses. Those big ones are nice. No, I like the little ones best. The little tightly curled rosebuds. They're so little and innocent. Oh, well, I really better be going. Are you going down? Yes, down, please. Here, miss, I. I took a rose for you. Thank you. It's lovely. Would you care to have a drink with me? Why, yes, thank you. I know the little place a block or two down there. They have nice music. We'll go there. All right. Whatever you say. This is it. Where's the music? A nickel in the jukebox. Does it any special song you'd like? No. Go ahead and pick one. Okay. And there we are. That's my favorite song. Reminds me of a girl I used to know. Oh, excuse me, I. I want to powder my nose. I'll be right back. Do you mind? No, of course not. 7th Police Precinct, Sergeant Thomas speaking. Hello, is Terry Riley there? Just a moment. I'll see. Please hurry. It's important. No, sorry, Miss. Terry Riley's not here just now. Oh, will you. Will you tell him. Tell him that I can't keep that date with him. Goodbye. Do you always go to the phone booth when you want to powder your nose? Why, I. I had to make a call. Uh huh. I'm afraid I'll have to leave you. Oh, wait. Let me come with you. I'm sorry, miss, but I've got other things to do. Oh, what's the. That car. Someone that knows me. Let's get away from here. That's just what I'm going to do. So long, lady. Wait. Wait. Please don't go, Miss Virginia. Miss Virginia. I'm sorry, Miss Virginia, but I must speak to you for a minute. Oh, Edwards, what do you want? I'm sorry, miss. You better come with me at once. I've been looking for you everywhere. Your mother's been taken seriously ill. Mother? Where is she? She's out at the country police, miss. I drove her there shortly before dinner. She wanted to pay you a surprise visit. Oh, I believe the shock of not finding you there upset her, miss. Is she very bad? She had the doctor with her when I left. Mrs. Crosby has gone away for the day. Your mother needs you, Miss. Well, let's go. Hurry, Edwards, please. Right, miss. Where is Mother, Edwards? In her room, miss. You better hurry. Mother. Mother, it's Ginny. Is the doctor in there with you? Mother? Why, there's no one here. The room's empty. The bed hasn't been touched. Edwards, what are you doing? Merely playing a song, miss. A favorite of mine. A favorite? Yes, Miss Virginia. Where's Mother? She's in the city, miss. You lied to me. I'm afraid I did, Miss Virginia. Why are you locking the door? You know why, Miss Virginia. Can't be. You are not the. The White Rose Killer. But you see, I am, Miss Virginia. Driving you and your family around day after day, sitting there right in front of you all the time. It was amusing to watch you hunting for me. Hunting for someone you saw several times a day. It can't be. You're not insane? Of course not. Who said I was? Edwards, you know I'm not the girl who betrayed you. Yes, I know that. Well, they unlocked the door and let me out. Please, Edwards. I've killed five times. I've never regretted it. I'm going to kill you, Miss Virginia. Why, Edwards? Why? Because you've been so clever. Too clever. You made yourself look like her. The girl who deceived me. I could have killed you the day you first went out looking for me. But I had to be careful. I almost caught you that night at the waterfront. The night I dropped the white rose. When that police car came. Edward, I. I've never done you any harm. Your sweetheart, Terry. He loves you, doesn't he? Yes, That's Good. Because now you won't be able to deceive him like my girl deceived me. Keep away, Edwards. Keep away or I'll. You thought you'd use your gun, eh? Well, don't think I was fool enough to overlook that. I took your gun out of your purse. It won't do you any good to kill me, Edward. I didn't have anything to do with. No. And you're not going to have a chance to break another man's heart like she broke mine. Terry. Terry. It won't do you any good to call to him. He can't get in here without breaking down the door. Keep away from me. It'll be too late then, because I'm going to kill you. Now, let me get my hands on that pretty white give away from me. Terry. Jimmy, Are you all right? Yes, Terry, I. I'm all right. Oh. Take it easy. Here, sit down. Oh, Terry, I was so scared. There was nobody here but Edwards and I. How. How did you know where I was? Oh, it was simple. You were supposed to meet me at the coffee shop. You never broke an appointment. And when you didn't show up, I called the number you gave me. You told me the housekeeper was here all the time. And when there was no answer, I got suspicious and came down. Besides, when I got a message down at headquarters that you had to break a date with me, I knew something was wrong. Are you sure you're all right? Yes, I. I'm. Terry. Look on the floor beside Edwards. A white rose must have fallen out of his pocket. That was meant for me. Oh, Terry, it's. It's all crushed. Yeah, crushed and dead. Just like the White Rose Killer. And so closes the White Rose Murders, starring Maureen o' Hara. Tonight's tale of suspense. This is your narrator, the man in black, who, speaking for Columbia, hopes you have enjoyed Ms. O' Hara's performance and our play. Next week, because of a special broadcast of the All Star Baseball Game, suspense will not be heard. But again the following week, we will be back with another play on this series and more of your Hollywood favorites. The producer of these broadcasts is William Speer, who with Ted Bliss, the director, Bernard Herman and Lucy Ann Marowick, conductor and composer, and Cornel Woolrich, the author, collaborated on tonight's suspense. This is cbs. The Columbia Broadcasting System suspends. This is the man in Black. Here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense. Heading our Star Hollywood cast tonight is Mr. Warren William. And William with him is Mr. Eric Blore. No fewer than nine times have these two gentlemen appeared together in screen thrillers based on the adventures of one of the most celebrated characters of modern crime fiction. This familiar character will speak to you now for the first time on the air. As with the story called Murder Goes for a Swim and the performances of Warren Williams, Michael Lanyard and Eric Blore as Jameson, we again hope to keep you in suspense. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Allow me to introduce myself. Nowadays, meeting me on the street, you'd most likely recognize me as Michael Lanyard, an author of sorts. But if you will not be too free with the information, because I've been at some pains to allow bygones to be bygones, I was once known rather well by quite a different name, and there are still times when I find myself obliged, or should I say forced, to return to that character to resort to the somewhat questionable talents of the Lone Wolf. As a matter of fact, my presence here this evening is prompted by an uncontrollable desire to reminisce a little, eh, Jameson? Oh, quite right, Mr. Lanyard. And if you'll pardon a gentleman's gentleman for saying so, sir, playing nip and tuck with the police, meeting lovely ladies, you pilfering an occasional gem. I living, so to speak, from hand to pocket. Ha ha. Those were the days, sir. Yes, those were the days. Absconding at times, perhaps a touch of embezzlement here and there. Now, now, hold on, Jameson. If we are going to reminisce in public, I suggest we confine our recollections to our later period when the Lone Wolf had become a gentleman of leisure and used his talents in the interests of. In that case, sir, I suggest you relate the episode of our little experience at that horrible party we attended at that Long island estate. Remember, sir? Of course, Jamison. The Rutherford Barnes estate. If I remember correctly, the occasion was some sort of charity bazaar. We were invited for the weekend. The phone rang just as we were about to leave the apartment. Mr. Lanyard, this is Betty Larson. You've never heard of me before, but I know you've been invited to spend the weekend with Mr. Rutherford Barnes. Please, you must accept the invitation. Come down immediately. Right now. It's just a little after 2:00' clock and if you're not too late, the Lone Wolf may be able to prevent a murder. Jameson and I arrived at the Barnes estate a bare two hours after we'd received the mysterious telephone message. I was introduced to all kinds of people. First, the famous gossip columnist, Ralph Clinton. Well, Mr. Lanyard, this is indeed a surprise. And I might Say, a pleasant addition to our little gathering. Something always happens when you're lone wolfing around. Oh, I know, I know you've reformed, but a fellow can hope for a little extra excitement. Canty. See you later, old man. Then I met a very, very beautiful young lady. Oh, Mr. Lanyard, we haven't met yet. I'm Cynthia Waring. I've read all your stories and admired the ingenious way you solve those baffling mysteries. I think you're wonderful. And of course, there was our host himself, Mr. Rutherford Barnes, who had recently announced his engagement to Ms. Waring. I believe you've met just about everyone, Lanyard. That is, everyone except Bill Hodges. He's the firebrand of our little congregation. He's probably wandering around walking off the effects of the last 10 cocktails. Just make yourself comfortable. Strangely enough, I failed to meet a Ms. Betty Larson, the frightened young lady who had phoned. Anyway, the afternoon wore on through the beauty contest at which I was elected to preside as judge, and at which Miss Cynthia Waring, looking very pretty in a big picture hat and hoop skirt, was the winner. After it was over, Jameson and I managed to break away from the rest of the guests and to escape the heat of the afternoon, we prepared ourselves for a cooling dip in the pool. I say, Mr. Lanyard, we've been to some pretty big and fancy places in our day, but this one is really something. This Rutherford Barnes person must be really an important person. You're quite right, Jameson. Rutherford Barnes is listed in Who's. Who is the gentleman who made a fortune out of sardines? Just think, an entire estate built of sardines. Uncanny, isn't it? Oh, Jameson. Forgive me, sir. No more puns, I promise. Well, I should hope so. I say, this pool is constructed just like a miniature lake. Lilies and all that sort of thing floating on top. Quite naturally. If you're going down for the third time, you just take a lily with you. Oh, what a jolly thought. Well, here goes. Watch this beautiful swan dive. I say, this is most unusual. There's a sort of a Sort of a mermaid lying in the bottom of the pool. And she's very pretty, sir. Last night it was a barmaid, today it's a mermaid. But really, sir. Well, I'm the judge in the beauty contest. I'd better go down and have a look. Don't be away too long, sir. Remember, there are lots of warmer women in the world. Jameson, quick. Here, give me a hand. Put a head in this. A girl. Quick. Here, lift her out of Here, hurry. I'm doing. I'm doing my best here. Now, let's. Let's put her down here. Hold it. Hold it there, Jameson. I. I'm afraid she's dead. What do you make of it, sir? What was it, an accident? I don't know. There's. There's a pretty nasty bump on the side of her head. Well, perhaps she slipped and hit her head as she fell. Perhaps. But her bathing suit. Not quite the style you'd put on to take a swim. Possibly. She was in the beauty contest. Of course. That's it. The program listed ten contestants, yet only nine girls competed. Meaning what, Ms. Lanyard? Meaning, Jameson, that this poor kid was the tenth contestant. And if my hunch is correct, her name is Betty Larson. The girl with the telephone message. Precisely. And if her call was on the level, we did arrive too late and she was murdered. Mr. Lanyard. Mr. Lanyard, it's Mr. Barnes and Ms. Waring. Take off your robe and cover up the body, Jameson. Yes, sir. Well, Lanyard, we've been looking all over for you, haven't we, Cynthia dear? Yes, of course. Now, I'm glad We found you. Mr. Lanyard. I've been wanting to thank you for awarding me the prize in the beauty contest this afternoon. I really didn't think that, Mr. Lanyard. There, at the edge of the pool. Yes? It's a girl, and I'm afraid she's drowned. Drowned? Oh, how horrible. But how did it happen? Who is she? I think she's Betty Larson. What do you think, Mr. Barnes? Here, look. Good heavens. Yes. Yes, that is Betty Larcena. Why, I had no idea. Then you do know the girl, Mr. Barnes? Why, yes, as a matter of fact, only recently. I recommended her for a job. She's the local telephone operator and the village beauty. Mr. Barnes and Ms. Larson were childhood sweethearts. Mr. Barnes, tell me, do you know any. Do any of the other guests know this girl? Ralph Clinton, for instance. Could our famous columnist have possibly known Ms. Larson? Well, if not in person, most certainly by telephone. You see, for the last few weeks, Ms. Larson handled my personal calls. I see. Did she ever mention the fact that there might be a murder? Murder? Well, you see, I received rather strange message. Now, look here, Lanyard. If you're insinuating that Ms. Larson was murdered, you're all wrong. It's perfectly obvious. She slipped and fell into the deep end of the pool. She can't swim. We couldn't hear her cry for help over the noise of the party. So the poor girl drowned. As simple as that? Why, of course. And I'd appreciate it if you'd be kind enough not to mention this accident to any of the other guests. There's no need to disrupt the entire weekend. I'll notify the sheriff and call the coroner, and they'll take care of everything. I think it might be A good idea, Mr. Lanyard, since you seem so certain that a murder has been committed, that you and your man remain on the premises, our famous lone wolf may have a little explaining of his own to do. Come along, Cynthia. Oh, I'm completely at sea, Mr. Lanyard. The sheriff seems to think the whole thing was an accident. That this Ms. Betty Larson person dived into the pool and that's how she hit her head. I doubt that, Jemison. According to Barnes, the girl couldn't swim. Oh, I think we have company. Yeah, if you see Mr. Barnes around, I want to see him. I think he's over at the other side of the house. Getting things ready for the bazaar, are they? Don't care how they celebrate a murder, do they? If I'm not mistaken, you're Mr. Bill Hodges, huh? Yeah. Betty Larson and I were gonna get married. Everything was great until she starts going around with this society bunch. I got a few things to settle with that society crowd. Especially that keyhole peeper, Ralph Clinton. You seem quite positive, Hodges, that your girl was murdered. Well, I. What do you think? It was an accident. That girl could swim like a fish. Nothing could happen to her in the water. But Barnes says she couldn't swim a stroke. I said she could swim like a fish, but Barnes says. Did you hear me, you little runt? Amazing how that girl could swim. Look here, Hodges, what makes you think Ralph Clinton had anything to do with this? You know you're practically accusing him of murder. Listen, Betty stood me up twice last week. I followed her in my car, and she met Clinton both times. He was going to put her in this contest, and she was a cinch to win. He promised. Then look what happens to her. She's dead. Murdered, I tell you. Well, here comes Clinton now. Maybe you'd better tell him about it. Oh, there you are, Hodges. I understand you've been looking for me. Yeah, I have. And now I'm gonna fix that pretty face of yours. Wait a second here. You can't do that here. Jameson, help me break this up. I will, as soon as they stop punching me. Hey, stop, you fool. Hodges, stop it. Stop it, I say. All right, all right. Let go of me. Let go. Oh, thanks, Mr. Lanyard. This man's a maniac. Okay, but I'm warning you, Clinton, I'll see you again when you ain't got your friends around. Personally, I. I don't know whether the girl was killed or not, but if she was our friend there, Hodges will have a lot of explaining to do. You mean you've got something on him, Mr. Clinton? Well, when I was discussing the contest with Betty Larson a few days ago, she told me that Hodges had warned her not to enter. Seems he was afraid that if she won, it might go to her head and she'd walk out on him. As a matter of fact, he told her to stay away from here. Well, there's going to be a coroner's inquest in the morning, and I suggest that you tell this to the sheriff as soon as he returns. Why tell that to the sheriff? Oh. Oh, no, no, I'd rather hate to do that. You. You see, Lanyard, someone in my position, I. I can't afford to get involved. After all, it's my business to report scandal and not get mixed up in it. But look here, you. I tell you what. Give me a chance to think it over, and I'll. I'll see you at the treasure hunt tonight. Oh, dear. Two in the morning, Mr. Lanyard. What a ghastly hour to go tramping over the ground. Must we participate in this treasure hunt? Of course. It's all a part of the weekend. Come in. Oh, it's the witching hour, Mr. Lanyard. Here's your envelope with the clues for the treasure hunt. You'd better hurry. Everybody's ahead of you. Thank you, Mr. Clinton. We'll catch up. Fine. This ought to be very interesting, seeing the lone wolf stalking down his prey. You know very well, Clinton. Oh, sure, I forgot. You're not the lone wolf anymore. You're just nice, innocent Mr. Lanyard. Well, good hunting. See you later. Well, here you are, Jameson. This is our clue. Go ahead, read it. Under the oak and under the COVID Where have met many a lover Light a match and look deep down Find your clue and win your crown I say, isn't that lovely? Can you decipher it? Of course. It means. Well, it means. Well, exactly, Jamison. The old well. That's where we'll find the next clue. Come on, let's get going. The well is down this path. It's right near the stables. You mean when we get to the well, we find another clue? That's right. And at the end is when we reach the treasure. Oh, the treasure. I say, what is this treasure, Jamie? Since it's unimportant what the treasure is. It might be a bag of jellybeans. It all sounds very silly to me, sir. There's the well over there. And look here. It's got a. Got a wooden cover on it, exactly like it said on the poem. Well, what do we do now? Now, wait a minute. Oh, yes, under the COVID Light a match and look deep down here. I'll take this lid off and put it here. Now, you light a match, Jameson. Our second clue must be somewhere inside the well. Right. Ho. Just a moment. Ah, there's the clue we're looking for. A piece of paper pinned on the wall inside the well with a big pin. Dash it all, match went out. I'll light another one. Oh, Jamison. Hold it, hold it. The inside of this well smells like gasoline. Yes, it does. Yes, it does smell like it's full of. Get away, Jameson. Blow that match out. Are you all right, Mr. Lanyard? Yes, and no thanks to you. I couldn't help it, sir. If you ask me, we walked right into a trap. Quite obviously. Here, let me help you up. Oh, thank you, sir. Oh, if I'd had any idea. Ouch. Now what's the matter? I've been stabbed. Let me see. Oh, Siddy Jamison. I'll pull it out. Oh, be careful, sir. Oh. Oh. Oh. There we are. And very interesting. What is it, sir? It's that big pin. You could have been hurt quite badly. Well, if you ask me. Come along, Jameson. We've got work to do. And another thing, Mr. Barnes, we don't mind playing this little treasure hunt game of yours. But it's no fun when the prize is two bodies. Especially if they happen to be our two bodies. Surely it was only an accident. I wish I could believe that, Ms. Waring, but there's no rhyme nor reason for what's been happening. If the accident at the well was another attempt at murder, then. Well, then. Then all our lives could be in danger. Steady, Cynthia, darling. I presume you have some idea of who the murderer might be, Mr. Lanyard. You flatter me, Mr. Barnes. I would think you would surely line up one or two likely suspects. Mr. Lone Wolf, why don't you tell them about our friend Mr. Clinton, sir. Clinton? Oh, well, there are some mighty interesting aspects to that Road Company Winchell. He was meeting Betty Larson secretly. At least that's what Hodges says. I can believe Clinton would stoop to anything. I didn't want to have him around, but Cynthia felt that we should cater to him for the sake of publicity. For the bazaar. Hodges also insists that Clinton arranged for Ms. Larson to enter the beauty contest and that Clinton promised her that she would win. And there's the little incident at the. Well, if you ask me, Clinton is in this thing right up to his clues. Help, Mr. Barnes. Somebody come out here. Hurry. That sounds like Hodges. He's right out there at the side of the house. Come on. We can go through these French windows in here. In the bushes. You better hurry. What is it? Hondas. What's wrong? I don't know. Don't ask me. I don't know anything about it. Great heavens, look at Clinton. I can't stand it. I can't stand it. What awful things are going on. I don't know how it happened. I was just coming down the path there in the bushes. He was lying right there. He does all right, Mr. Lanyard. Shot. Murdered. Murdered. You did this, Hodges. You said you'd get even with Clinton. Now you've done this. I tell you, I don't know anything about it. I was just walking down along the path. I don't know anything about it. It's all right, Hodges. You'll have an opportunity to prove your innocence. Don't you have some theory about all this, Mr. Ly and Mr. There, there, Ms. Waring? I think I can promise you at least that there won't be any more murder. Hold the flashlight a little higher, Jameson, on the clock on the mantelpiece. Yes, sir. Just as you say, sir. But aren't we taking a bit of a risk, Mr. Lanyard leaving the estate without checking with the sheriff? Shh. Quiet, Jamison. If I don't find what I'm looking for here in Clinton's apartment, I'm afraid we'll have a lot of explaining to do. Just as soon we didn't go back. There's been two murders already, and they say things come in threes. How interesting. Jameson, why do you think I've got you flashing the light on that clock on the mantelpiece? Well, sir. Well, I'm a bit rusty. I. I think it might be safe to say. Well, it would be safe exactly. Jameson, you never fail the safe behind the clock on the metal piece. I say I was right. Ingenious, eh, Miss Lennard? You have your moments. Well, it's a long time since I've operated in this fashion, but we'll see. Jameson. If you don't mind, sir, this is like old time. I do mind, Jameson, but unfortunately, certain situations are born of necessity. Then allow me to compliment you, sir. You haven't lost the old touch. No, I'm not so. Ah, there we are. Not much of a haul, if you ask me. Nothing but a stack of letters and a notebook. Let's have a look. All that trouble just for a bundle of papers. Just a waste of good time and talent. There could have been a pound of butter or a gas coupon or a back axle or. I say, what's so interesting? Just the. Did you find a clue to the murders? Just the motive, Jameson. Just the motive. Look here, you can't keep me here, Sheriff. All I did was fine, Clinton. You can't hang a guy for that. Keep your shirt on, Hodges. Nobody moves out of this room till Lanyard shows up. If he doesn't come in five minutes, I'm going to put out a call and have him pulled in. Seems to me that Mr. Lanyard has admitted his guilt by disappearing. Well, whatever the case may be, I think you should allow me to go. After all, this is my house and I do have guests. They might think it rather strange if their host isn't around. Look, Mr. Barnes, party or no party, there's been a couple of murders committed around this joint, and everybody in this room is under suspicion. Really, Sheriff, if you're going to keep us here and allow Mr. Lanyard to stay. Good evening, Sheriff. Jameson, say good evening to the Sheriff. He's been very patient, I hope. Good evening, sir. I mean, Constable. I mean, Sheriff. All right, you two, you'd better make it good. Running away from the scene of the crime won't sit so well in court. Please accept my apologies, Sheriff. Well, now that you're here, Mr. Lanyard, perhaps we can clear up this nasty mess. Yes, I presume you've been spending your time checking up on the murders, Mr. Lanyard. That's right. And I've uncovered a few details which I'm sure will prove Most interesting. Ms. Waring. You're wasting time, Lanyard. Somebody in this room has been running around committing murders, and I'm gonna find out who it is or die. Or die try. Who said that? Oh, if it's all the same for you, Sheriff, I think I'll join the other guests. Now, isn't that thoughtful of you? Get away from that door before you tempt me to bring the murder score up to three. Do as he says, Jameson. After all, you don't want to miss all the fun. In just a minute, you're going to have the pleasure of meeting the murderer. Yes, that's just what I'm afraid of, sir. All right, Lanyard, let's have it. Very well, Sheriff. First, allow me to review events from the beginning. Just as Jameson and I were leaving for Mr. Barnes residence, we received a rather unusual telephone message. It was Betty Larson. That was about 2pm, wouldn't you say, Jameson? Five minutes after two to be exact, sir. Thank you. We arrived at Mr. Barnes Estate by 3:30. At five, Jamison and I went for a swim in the pool. It was then we found Ms. Larson. At what time did the coroner examine her? Sheriff, I. Around seven in the evening. But what difference does it make? The poor girl had been dead for 10 hours. All the difference in the world, my dear fellow. Simple arithmetic will show you that it was impossible for Ms. Larson to call me at 2 o' clock. At 2 o' clock she'd already been dead for five hours. Hodges, you did it. You paid someone to make that call. You're crazy. I had nothing to do with it. Pipe down, Hodges. Go on, Lanyard. Sheriff, what do you think was used to murder Ms. Larson? Well, I. Could this have been the weapon? The pin. The pin? The one I fell on when the well exploded? Yes. Jameson. Let me paint a rather gruesome picture for you, Sheriff. Ms. Larson is called down to the edge of the swimming pool. Someone who poses as a friend suggests that she try on a hat. In trying it on, our murderer, pretending to assist, neatly jabs Ms. Larson and thrusts the pin through the base of her brain. Oh, how horrible. Could I examine the pin, please? Why, of course, Mr. Barnes. What? Why, it's a hat pin. Well, Cynthia, it's the one you had in the large hat you wore in that beauty contest. Cynthia, it was you. All right, stand back, all of you. Look here, sister, you can't get away with it. Shut up and listen, all of you. I assure you I know how to handle this gun and I'm not afraid to use it. Cynthia, stand. I don't get you, Cynthia. What earthly reason would you have for killing Betty? She wanted to be a friend. That's a laugh. Listen, Little Boy Blue. A telephone operator sometimes hears too much for her own good. How do you think she got all those fine furs? From some boyfriend? No, she was too daffy about you. So she decided to try her hand at blackmail. Blackmail? That's right. Only she pushed me just a bit too far. Why, you. Back, all of you. Do, prune face. Who? Who, me? I don't mean your brother. Open the door. Go on, open it. Yes, yes, ma' am. Now stand back, all of you. Ha. Very amusing picture. That's right, Mr. Lanyard. Step forward just a little. I'd like to thank you for spoiling a most delightful weekend. Here's a little something to remember me by. Jameson, are you all right? Yes, I think so, sir. Well, thank heaven. Yeah, you did a good job. Jameson not only saved Mr. Lanyard from getting shot, but when you fell against this door, you also managed to knock Ms. Wearing colder than a doornail. Oh, it was nothing really. And as for you, sister, maybe these bracelets will keep you out of trouble. Cause when you come to, you're going to find yourself booked for murder. Double murder, Sheriff. Dig the bullet out of the wall over there and you'll find it will match the one found in Clinton's body. Well, what do you know. Come on, Hodges, give me a hand. Okay, Sheriff. I can't believe it. Why, Cynthia and I had so many plans together. It's hard to believe that she could be responsible for those horrible murders. I'm afraid she was, Mr. Barnes. This is Mr. Clinton's notebook. Several canceled checks and a few letters. Look them over and you'll discover that Your dream girl, Ms. Cynthia Waring, has quite a number of aliases and in certain circles has a reputation for landing the biggest fish in the pool. Then after she's collected enough money, she tosses them back. You were her next victim, Mr. Barnes. And as for the unfortunate Mr. Clinton, being a newspaper man and gossip columnist, he ferreted out her little scheme and in turn was blackmailing Ms. Waring. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I guess that just about puts the cap on that story of our little adventure at the estate of Rutherford Barnes. Ms. Cynthia Waring was a very shrewd and fast thinking young lady. She got one victim with a gun. She almost got Jameson and me at the old well when the gasoline exploded. All of which began with the first and most ingenious of the murders. The particularly cold blooded murder of Betty Larson with that hat pin. And Jameson, of course we have you to thank for having discovered that most important bit of evidence. The pin itself. Yes, Ms. Lanyard. And I must say I got quite a lift out of that myself when I discovered it. Now, now, Jameson, remember your promise. Suffice it to say, you discovered the pin the hard way, I admit. Oh, yes, sir. There's no doubt about that. The criminal would never have been stuck in the final analysis if I hadn't sat down and got myself stuck. That will be or that will be all, Jameson. Good night, ladies and gentlemen. And so closes Murder Goes for a Swim. Starring Warren William with Eric Blore. The first Appearance of the Lone Wolf on the air and tonight's tale of suspense. This is your narrator, the man in black, who conveys to you Columbia's invitation to spend this half hour in suspense with us again next week when Laird Kriegar will star in the suspense play the last letter of Dr. Bronson with a cast of four distinguished Hollywood players. Helen Vinson, Harold Huber, Ian Wolf and Theodore Von Else. The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear, who, with Robert Louis Shay on the guest director, Bernard Herman and Lucy and Marowick, conductor and composer, collaborated on tonight's suspense. Sam. This is cbs, the Columbia broadcasting System sat. This is the man in black here to introduce Columbia's program Suspense. Tonight, as we premiere our new Saturday evening series on the air, Ms. Agnes Moorhead returns to our stage to appear in the study in terror by Lucille Fletcher called Sorry, Wrong Number. This story of a woman who accidentally overheard a conversation with death and who strove frantically to prevent murder from claiming an innocent victim is being repeated by popular request as tonight's tale of suspense. If you've been with us before, you will know that suspense is compounded of mystery and suspicion and dangerous adventure. In this series are tales calculated to intrigue you, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation and then withhold the solution until the last possible moment. And so it is with the story. Sorry, wrong number. And the performance of Ms. Agnes Moorhead. We again hope to keep you in suspense. Oh, dear. Your call, please. Operator, I've been dialing Murray Hill 70093 now for the last three quarters of an hour and the line is always busy. I don't see how it could be busy that long. Will you try it for me, please? I will be glad to try that number for you. One moment, please. I don't see I could be busy all this time. It's my husband's office. He's working late tonight and I'm all alone here in the house. My health is very poor and I've been feeling so nervous all day. Ringing Murray Hill 70093. Hello? Hello? Hello, is. Is Mr. Stevenson there? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello, George? Yes, this is George. Hello? Who's this? What number am I calling, please? I'm here with our client. Oh, good. Is everything okay? Is the coast clear for tonight? Yeah, George, he says the coast is clear for tonight. Okay. Okay. Where are you now? In a phone boat. Don't worry, Everything's okay. Very well. You know the address? Yeah, yeah, I know. At 11 o' clock the private patrolman goes around to the bar on Second Avenue for a beer. That's right. At 11 o' clock I will make sure that all the lights downstairs are out. There should be only one light visible from the street. Yeah, yeah, I know. At 11:15 a train crosses the bridge. It makes a noise in case a window is open and she should scream. Oh, hello. What number is this, please? Okay, I understand. I tell you, that's 11:15, the train. Yeah. Do you remember everything else, George? Yeah, I make it quick. As little blood as possible because our client does not wish to make us suffer long. That's right. You'll use a knife? Yes, a knife will be okay. Then afterwards, I removed the rings and the bracelets and the jewelry in the bureau drawer because our client wishes it to look like simple robbery. Don't worry, everything's okay. I. Never mind. Oh. Oh, how awful. How unspeakably awful. Oh. Your call please. Operator, I've just been cut off. Sorry. What number were you calling? Why, it was supposed to be Murray Hill 70093, but it wasn't. Some wires must have got crossed. I was cut into a wrong number and I. I've just heard the most dreadful thing. Something about a murder and. Operator, you simply have to retrace that call at once. I beg your pardon. May I help you? Oh, I know it was the wrong number and I had no business listening. But these two men, they were cold blooded fellow. They were going to murder somebody. Some poor innocent woman who was all alone in a house near a bridge and we've got to stop them. We've got to. What number were you calling? That doesn't matter. This was the wrong number and you dialed it for me. And we've got to find out what it was immediately. What number did you call? Oh, why are you so stupid? What time is it? Do you mean to tell me you can't find out what that number was just now? I'll connect you with the chief officer. Oh, I think it's perfectly shameful. Now look, look, it was obviously a case of some little slip of the finger. I told you to try Murray Hill 70093 for me. You dialed it. But your finger must have slipp was connected with some other number and I could hear them, but they couldn't hear me. Now I. I simply fail to see why you couldn't make that same mistake again on purpose. Why you couldn't try to dial Murray Hill 70093 in the same sort of careless way. Murray Hill 70093. Yes, I'll try to get it for you. Oh, thank. I am sorry. Murray Hill 70093 is busy. I will call you in 20. Operator. Operator. Operator. Operator. Your call, please. You didn't try to get that wrong number at all. I asked you explicitly and all you did was dial correctly. I'm sorry. What number are you calling? Well, can't you for once forget what number I'm calling and do something for me? Now, I want to trace that call. It's my civic duty. And it's your civic duty to trace that call and apprehend those dangerous killers. And if you won't, I will connect you with the chief operator. Please, dear. This is the chief operator. Oh, Chief operator. I want you to trace a call, a telephone call immediately. I don't know where it came from or who was making it, but it's absolutely necessary that it be tracked down because it will about a murder that someone's planning a terrible, cold blooded murder of a poor, innocent woman Tonight at 11:15. I see. Well, can you trace it for me? Can you track down those men? I'm not certain. It depends. Well, it depends on what? It depends on whether the call is still going on. If it's a live call, we can trace it on the equipment. If it's been disconnected. We can't disconnect if the parties have stopped talking to each other. Oh, but of course. They must have stopped talking to each other by now. That was at least five minutes ago. And they didn't sound like the type who would make a long call. Well, I can try tracing it. May I have your name, please? Mrs. Stevenson. Mrs. Albert Stevenson. But listen. And your telephone Number, please. Plaza 42295. But if you go on wasting all this time. Why do you want this call trace, please? What? I. Well, no reason. I. I mean, I merely felt very strongly that something ought to be done about it. These men sounded like killers. They're dangerous. They're going to murder this woman at 11:15 tonight. I thought the police ought to know. Have you reported this to the police? Well, no, not yet. You want this call check purely as a private individual? Yes, but meanwhile, I. I'm sorry, Mr. Stevenson, but I'm afraid we couldn't make this check for you and trace the call just in your say so. As a private individual, we'd have to have something more efficient. Oh, for heaven's sake. You mean to tell me I can't report that there's going to be a murder without getting tied up in all this red tape? Why, it's perfectly idiotic. Well, all right. I'll call the police. Thank you. I'm sure that would be the best way to. Ridiculous. Perfectly ridiculous. Mr. Partner, I can't see why you have to go to all this trouble. Oh, your call, please. The police department. Get me the police department, please. Thank you. Oh, dear. Do you have to dial? Can't you ring them directly? Ringing the police department. Police station, briefing 43. Sergeant Martin speaking. Police department. This is Mrs. Stevenson. Mrs. Albert Smythe Stevenson of 53 North Sutton Place. I'm calling up to report a murder. I mean, the murder hasn't been committed yet. But I just overheard plans for it over the telephone Over a wrong number that the operator gave me. I've been trying to trace down the call myself, but everybody is so stupid. And I guess in the end, you're the only people who can do anything. Yes, ma' am, it was a perfectly definite murder. I heard their plans distinctly. Two men were talking. And they were going to murder some woman at 11:15 tonight. She lived in a house near a bridge. Are you listening to me? Yes, ma' am. Yeah. And there was a private patrolman on the street. He was going to go around for a beer on Second Avenue. And there was some third man, a client who was paying to have this poor woman murdered. They were going to take her rings and bracelets and use a knife. Well, it's. It's a nerve me dreadfully. And I'm not well, and I just don't Nerve. When was all this, ma' am? About eight minutes ago. Then. Then you can do something you do understand? What is your name, ma' am? Mrs. Stevenson. Mrs. Albert Stevenson. And your address? 53 North Sutton Place. 53 North Sutton Place. That's near a bridge. The Queensborough Bridge, you know. And. And. And we have a private patrolman on our street. And secondly. And what was the number you were calling? Murray Hill 70093. But that wasn't the number I overheard. I mean, Murray Hill 7093 is my husband's office. He's working late tonight, and I was trying to reach him to ask him to come home. I'm an invalid, you know, and it's the maiden night off. And I hate to be alone. Even though he says I'm perfectly safe as long as I have the telephone right beside my bed. Well, we'll look into it, Mrs. Stevenson, and see if we can check it with the telephone. But the telephone company said they couldn't check the call if the parties had stopped talking. I'VE already taken care of that. Oh, you have? Yes. And personally I feel ought to do something far more immediate and drastic than just check the call. What good does checking the call do if they stop talking? By the time you tracked it down, they'll already have committed the murder. Well, we'll take care of it, don't you worry. Well, I'd say the whole thing called for a search. A complete and thorough search of the whole city. Now, I'm very near the bridge and I'm not far from Second Avenue. And I know I'd feel a whole lot better if you sent her on a radio card in this neighborhood at once. And what makes you think the murder is going to be committed in your neighborhood, ma' am? Well, I. I don't know. Only the coincidence. It's so horrible. Second Avenue is the patrolman, the bridge. Second Avenue is a very long street, ma' am. And you know how many bridges there are in the city of New York? Yes, I know. Not to mention Brooklyn, Staten Island, Queens and the Browns. I know that. How do you know there isn't some little house on Staten island on some little second Avenue you've never even heard about? How do you know they're even talking about New York at all? But I heard the call on the New York dialing system. Maybe it was a long distance call. You over telephones are funny things. Look, lady, why don't you look at it this way? Supposing you hadn't broken in on that telephone call. Supposing you'd got your husband the way you always do. You wouldn't be so upset, would you? Well, no, I suppose not. Only it sounded so inhuman, so cold blooded. A lot of murders are plotted in this city every day, ma' am. We manage to prevent almost all of them. But a clue of this kind is so vague. Isn't much more use to us than no clue at all. But surely you. Unless of course you have some reason for thinking this call was phony and that someone may be planning to murder you. Me? Oh, oh, no, no, I hardly think so. I mean, why should anybody? I'm alone all day and night. I see nobody except my maid Eloise. And she's a big girl. She weighs 200 pounds. She's too lazy to bring up my breakfast tray. And the only other person is my husband, Albert. He's crazy about me. He just adores me. He went on me and 40 scarcely left my side since I took sick wells 12 years ago. Well, then there's nothing for you to worry about. Now, if you'll just leave the rest of this to us, we'll take care. But what will you do? It's so late. It's nearly 11 now. We'll take care of it. Well, will you broadcast it all over the city and send out squads? And warn your radio cards to watch out, especially in suspicious neighborhoods like mine. Lady, I said we'd take care of it just now. I've got a couple of other matters here on my desk that require immediate attention. Good night, ma' am, and thanks. Oh, you. You idiot. Oh, why did I hang up the phone like that? He'll think I am a fool. Oh, why doesn't Albert come home? Why doesn't he? Why doesn't he come home? Oh, I'm so nervous. Your call, please, Operator. For heaven's sake, will you ring that Murray Hill 7093 number again? I can't think what's keeping him so long. I will try it for you. Well, try. Try. I don't see why he's doing this. Oh, I'm sorry. Murray Hill 70093 is busy. I can hear it. You don't have to tell me. I know it's busy. If I could only get on this bed for a little while. If I could get a breath of fresh air. Just lean out of the window and see the street. Hello, Albert? Hello? Hello? Hello? Oh, what's the matter with his phone? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? For him and sake, who is this? Hello? Oh, hello. Why doesn't she. Your call, please. Hello, Operator, I don't know what's the matter with this telephone tonight, but it's positively driving me crazy. I've never seen such inefficient, miserable service. Now, now, look, I'm an invalid and I'm very nervous and I'm not supposed to be annoyed, but if this keeps on much longer. What seems to be the trouble, please? Well, everything's wrong. I haven't had one bit of satisfaction out of one call I've made this evening. The whole world could be murdered for all you people care. And now my phone keeps ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing every five seconds or so. And when I pick it up, there's no one there. I'm sorry. If you will hang up, I will test it for you. I don't want you to test it for me. I want you to put that call through, whatever it is, at once. I'm afraid I cannot do that. You can't? And why? Why, may I ask? The dial system is automatic. If someone is trying to Dial your number. There is no way to check it without the call is coming through the system or not. Unless the person who is trying to reach you complains to his particular operator. Well, of all the stupid. And meanwhile, I've got to sit here in my bed suffering every time that phone rings, imagining everything. I will try to check the trouble for you. Check it, check it. That's all anybody can do. Oh, what's the use of talking to you? You're so stupid. Oh, I fix her. All the incident. How dare she fix me like that. How dare she call the operator? Oh, what if it takes too long? Your call, please. Young woman, I don't know your name, but there are ways of finding you out. And I'm going to report you to your superiors for the most unpardonable rudeness and insolence has ever been my privilege. Give me the business office at once. You may dial that number direct. Dial it direct. I'll do no such thing. I don't even know the number. The number is in the directory. Or you may secure it by dialing information. Listen here, you. Oh, what's the use? Oh, for heaven. Sagan Roan. Out of my mind. Out of my. Hello? Hello? Stop bringing me, do you hear? Answer me. Who is this? You realize you're driving me crazy? Who is calling me? What are you doing it for? Now? Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Hello? Hello? If you don't stop bringing me, I'm gonna call the police. You hear? The police. Oh, if Albert will only come home. Oh, let it ring. Let it go on ringing. He's a trick of some kind. And I won't answer it. I won't, I won't, I won't. Even if it goes on ringing all night. Oh, you ring. Go ahead and ring now. What's the matter? Why do they stop ringing all of a sudden? What time is it? Where did I put that clock? Oh, here it is. 5 to 11. Oh, they've decided something. They're sure I'm home. They heard my voice. Answer them just now. That's why they've been ringing me. Why no one has answered me. Call the operator again. Oh. Oh, where is she? Why doesn't she answer? Why doesn't she answer? Oh, please, your cough. Where were you just now? Why didn't you answer at once? Give me the police department. I'm sorry. The line is busy. I will cause Lily. But that's impossible. The police department can't be busy there. Are the other lines available. The line is busy. I will try to get Them for you later. No, no, I've got to speak to them now or it may be too late. I've got to talk to someone. What number do you wish to speak to? I don't know, but there must be someone to protect people. Beside the police department detective agency. You will find agencies listed in the classified direction. But I don't have a classified. I mean, I'm too nervous to look it up and I don't know how to use it. I'll connect you with information. Perhaps she will be able to help you. Oh, no. Oh, you're being spiteful, aren't you? You don't care, do you, what happens to me? I could die and you wouldn't care. Oh, stop it. Stop it. Stop it. I can't stand anymore. Hello? What do you want? Stop ringing. Will you stop it? Hello, Is this Plaza 42295? Yes, yes, I'm. I'm sorry. This. This is Plaza 42295. Mrs. Western Union. I have a telegram here for Mrs. Albert Stevenson. Is there anyone there to receive the message? I'm. I'm Mrs. Stevenson. The telegram is as follows. Mrs. Albert Stevenson, 53 North Sutton Place, New York, New York. Darling, terribly sorry. Tried to get you for last hour, but lying busy. Leaving for Boston 11pm tonight on Urgent business. Back tomorrow afternoon. Keep happy, love. Sign, Albert. Oh, no. Do you wish us to deliver a copy of the message? No, no, thank you. Thank you, madam. Good night. Good night. Oh, no. No. I don't believe it. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it. Not when he knows I'll be on the home. It's some trick, some finished trick. Oh, it's some trick. Why didn't your call. Please, operator, try that Murray Hill 7093 number for me. Just one four, please. You may dial that number direct. Oh. Oh, he's gone. He's gone. Oh, Albert, how could you? How could you. How could you? I. I can't be alone tonight. I can't. If I'm alone one more second, I'll go mad. I don't care what he says or what the expense is. I'm a sick woman. I'm entire. I'm a. Information. May I help you? I. I want the telephone number of Henchley hospital. Henchley hospital? Do you have the street address? No, no, it's somewhere in the 70s. It's a very small, private and exclusive hospital where I had my appendix out two years ago. Henchley. H E N. One moment, please. Please hurry and. Please. What is the Time? You may find out the time by dialing MERIDIAN7121. Oh, for heaven's sake, I have no time to be dialing. The number of Henchley hospital is Butterfield 70105. Butterfield 70105 you705. Good evening, nurses registry. Who was it you wish to speak to? I want the nurses registry at once. I want a trained nurse. I want to hire immediately for the night. And what is the nature of the case, madam? Nerves. I'm very nervous. I. I need soothing and companionship. You see, my husband is away and I'm. Have you been recommended to us by any doctor in particular? No, but I really don't see why all this catechizing is necessary. I just want a trained nurse. I was a patient in your hospital two years ago and after all, I do expect to pay this person for attending me. We quite understand that, madam, but these are war times, you know. Registered nurses are very scarce just now, and our superintendent has asked us to send people out only on cases where the physician in charge feels that it is absolutely necessary. Well, it is absolutely necessary. I'm a sick woman. I'm. I'm very upset. Very. I'm alone in this house and I'm an invalid. And tonight I overheard a telephone conversation that upset me dreadfully. In fact, if someone doesn't come at once, I'm afraid I'll go out of my mind. I see. Well, I'll speak to Ms. Phillips as soon as she comes in. And what is your name? Miss Phillips. And when do you expect her in? Well, I really couldn't say. She went out to supper at 11:00 o' clock. 11:00 clock? But it's not 11. Yeah. Oh. Oh, my clock has stopped. I thought it was running now. What time is it? Just 15 minutes past 11. What was that? What was what? That. That. That click just now in my own telephone as though someone had lifted the receiver off the horse of the extension telephone downstairs. Well, I didn't hear it, madam, now about. But I did. There's someone in this house. Someone downstairs in the kitchen. And they're. They're listening to me now. I won't pick it up. I won't let them hear me. I'll be quiet and they'll sing. But if I don't call someone now while they're still down there, there'll be no time. I've got to find somebody that. Operator. Operator, I'm in desperate trouble. I'm sorry, I cannot hear you. Please speak louder. I don't dare there's someone listening. Can you hear me now? I'm sorry, but you've got to hear me. Oh, please, you've got to help me. There's someone in this house, someone who's going to murder me. And you've got to get in touch with me. Oh, there it is. There it is. Did you hear it? He's put it down. He's put down the extension phone. He's coming up. He's coming up the stairs. Give me the police department. The police department. The police department. Give it to me. One moment, please. I will connect you. I can hear him. Can you hear her? I hear him. I hear it. Hurry. Hurry. Police department. Sergeant Martin speaking. Police department. Sergeant Martin speaking dot Police department. Sergeant Martin speaking. Police department. Sergeant Martin speaking. Police department. I'm sorry. Must have got the wrong number. Well, don't worry. Everything's okay. And so. Closes. Sorry. Wrong number. Starring Agnes Moorhead. Tonight's tale of suspends. This is your narrator, the man in black, who conveys to you Columbia's invitation to spend this half hour in suspense with us again next Saturday, when we'll have another starring Hollywood cast headed by Ms. Dolores Costello, with Martin Kozlick, Ian Wolf and George Zuko. The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear, who, with Ted Bliss, the director, Lud Gluskin, the musical director, and Lucille Fletcher, the author, collaborated on tonight's suspense. The entire country is waiting in suspense for the answer to this important question. Will the United States Cadet Nurse Corps reach its goal of enrolling 65,000 student nurses before the end of 1943? For if it doesn't, this country faces the prospect of needless suffering and loss of life at a time when our full health and energy are needed to win the war. What are you girls from 17 or 18 to 35 going to do about it? If you're a high school graduate in good health, you're eligible for a scholarship which will pay you all your expenses while you're learning to be of service to your fellow man. Not only will you receive a personal spending allowance of $15 a month for the first nine months in training, $20 a month for the following 21 months, and then $30 a month until graduation, but you will, in addition to this personal allowance, receive allowances for room, board, health and laboratory fees, books and other incidental expenses, this is your chance to do something for yourself while you're doing something big for your country. You're needed now, so write immediately to the U.S. cadet Nurses Corps, Bucks 88, New York. Or to any nursing school of your choice. And they will furnish you with all the essential information you are needed now. So act now. This is Suspense. This is the man in black. Here again to introduce Columbia's program Suspense. From Hollywood we bring you a star, Mr. Orson Welles. With this evening begins a full engagement as guest of these proceedings. In the interest of prime suspense, Mr. Wells and the producer of this series have scheduled four radio stories which they feel are particularly distinguished in our chosen field. The first of these is the Most Dangerous Game by Richard Garnell. And so, with the performance of Orson Welles in the character of General Zaroff and Keenan Wynn as Sang? A Ra who learned from Zaroff what was the Most Dangerous game. We again hope to keep you in suspense. I haven't much time. Any moment now he may come in. And when he does, I'm going to kill him. It's him or me and I'm going to do my best to make it him. Well, maybe it sounds crazy to you. I guess it does. Would have sounded crazy to me a few days ago when I was with Whitney on the yacht. I was on a pleasure trip. A pleasure trip. How or I. How could I or anyone realize then the horror and torment I was to go through? How was I to know of Ivan and the Death Swamp and the hounds? How was I to know of Zaroff? Think of was only four nights ago that the ship went down. We'd been talking about this island ship Trap Island. Whitney said it was called on the charts. He was sleepy and started on down below to turn in. I was mixing myself a nightcap when I looked up and saw it. A tremendous reef racing at us out of the fog. I screamed out a warning, but it was too late. We were right upon it. The ship exploded right on top of Whitney and members of the crew. I alone was standing safe out on the prowl. But the force of the explosion hurled me into the blood warm waters. Terrified at the suddenness and surprise, my stomach weak and sick at the thought of the others. The sea was eddying furiously around the sinking remnants of the ship. A certain cool headedness came to me and made me swim desperately away. Or I might not have lived to go through the horror which was soon to come. I struck out to the right in the direction of the island about which Whitney had been telling me. I have no recollection of how long I swam. But all at once I heard the muttering and growling of the sea breaking on the rocky shore. With my remaining strength I dragged myself from the swirling waters all in Gasping, my hands raw. I at last reached a flat place at the top. I flung myself down at the jungle edge. And tumbled headlong into the deepest sleep of my life. When. When I awoke, I was in a strange place. Having no idea how I felt. Well, Ivan. Our friend seems to be awakening. Where is this? Where am I? Do not be alarmed, my friend. My man Ivan found you out on the cliff. And brought you here to be taken care of. Thank God there's life on this island I hardly believed. Few people do. Yes. You are quite safe here in my castle, Mr. Rainsford. Rainsford? I'm Sang A. Rainsford of New York. Rainsford. Sanger Rainsford. Yes. Well, it is indeed a very great pleasure and honor. To welcome you, Mr. Sanger Rainsford. You are the celebrated hunter, are you not? Yes, yes. You know me? By reputation only. I've read your book about hunting snow leopards in Tibet. You see, My name is General Zaroff. I am not English, Mr. Rainsford. But I went to a good school. Perhaps you recognize the colors of my tie. No, it makes no difference. I've lived too long in the jungle to be a snob. Well, I. I can't tell you how happy I am to meet you, General. And I can't tell you how happy I am to meet you, Mr. Rainsford. But come, we shouldn't be chatting here. We can talk later. You must be hungry. Yes, I am, rather. What? Yvonne thought you'd like a robe. He's drying your clothes for you. Oh, thank you. Ivan is an incredibly strong fellow. But you mustn't mind his looks. His ears were cut off in battle. And he has misfortune to be deaf and dumb. He is sensitive about his appearance. A simple fellow, really. But I'm afraid, a bit savage. Oh, he's been in our family for years. Follow Yvonne, if you please, Mr. Rainsford. I was about to have my luncheon just before you awoke. We can have it together now. Does the robe fit you all right? Oh, yes, yes, perfectly. Thanks. I'm so glad. You have quite a collection of heads here. Lions, tigers, elephants, moose, bears. I don't believe I've ever seen a more perfect specimen. They are nice. I take great pride in them. You have good cause. Coming from you, Mr. Rainsford, that is a great compliment. Here we are. You sit over there. Thank you. Not at all. Right. Yvonne, we do our best to preserve the amenities of civilization here. Please forgive many lapses, of course. Well, off a beat track, you know. Shushu. Shu, Shu Shu. This is my little pet, Mr. Rainsford. As a hunting falcon. Shushu is of no further usefulness in the field. But I'm fond of its company, am I not, little sweetheart? Patience, my darling. I know your hunger, my dear. We hunt tonight. Your. Your heads are really remarkable. General, that. That Cape buffalo is the largest I've ever seen. Yes. That fella, he's a monster. Did he charge you? Hurled me against a tree. Fractured my skull. Left me the scar, and I got the brute. I've. I've always thought the Cape buffalo is the most dangerous of all game. Oh, no. No, you're wrong. Wrong, sir? The Cape buffalo is not the most dangerous game. Ivan, the wine. How does he understand you? He reads my lips. Think you like the champagne, Mr. Rainsford? Yvonne chills it expertly. No, no, The Cape buffalo is not the most dangerous game Here in my preserve. On this island, I hunt more dangerous game. Oh. What, is there big game on this island? The biggest. Really? It isn't here, naturally. Of course, I have to stock the island. What have you imported, General? Jaguars. Jaguars. I hope you like filet mino, Mr. R. I do, very much. Thank you. Is it Jaguar's, General? No, no, no. Hunting Jaguar ceased to interest me some years ago. I exhausted their possibilities, you see. No thrill left in jaguars, you understand. No real danger. I live for danger, Mr. Rainsford. We will have some capital hunting, you and I. I shall be most glad to have your company. Yes, but why can't you? You'll be amused, I know. I think you may say in all modesty. That I've done a rare thing. Yes, I've invented a new sensation. May I pour you another glass of champagne, Mr. Rainsford? Thank you, General. God makes some men poets. Some he makes kings, some beggars. Me, he made a hunter. My hand was made for the trigger. My father once said that. Made for the trigger. My whole life has been one prolonged hunt. I've hunted every kind of game in every land. It'd be impossible for me to tell you how many animals I've killed. Grizzlies in your Rockies. Crocodiles. And the Ganges rhinoceroses in East Africa. Africa. By the way, that Cape buffalo hit me and laid me up for six months. As soon as I recovered, I started for the Amazon to hunt jaguars. For I'd heard they were unusually cunning. They weren't. They were no match at all for a hunter with his wits about him. The high powered rifle. I was bitterly disappointed. Lying in my tent with a splitting headache one night. A terrible thought pushed its way into my head. Hunting was Beginning to bore me. And hunting, remember, had been my life. I've heard that in America, businessmen often go to pieces when they give up the business. That's been their life. Yes. Yes, I saw. I had no wish to go to pieces. I, I, I must do something. Now, mine is an analytical mind, Mr. Rainsford. Doubtless that is why I enjoy the problems of the chase. Oh, no doubt, gentlemen. So I asked myself why the hunt no longer fascinated me. You are much younger than I am, Mr. Rainsford, and have not hunted as much. But you perhaps can guess the answer. What is it? Simply, this hunting had ceased to be what you call a sporting proposition. It had become too easy. I always got my quarry. Always. It's no greater bore than perfection. Cigarette? No, thank you. No animal had a chance at me anymore. Not a chance. That is no boost. It is a mathematical certainty. The animal had nothing but his legs and his instinct. Instinct is no match for reason. When I thought of this, it was a tragic moment for me, I can tell you. It came to me as an inspiration what I must do. And that was? I had to invent a new animal to hunt. A new animal? Are you joking? Not at all. I never joke about hunting. I needed a new animal. I found one. So I bought this island, built this castle near. I do my hunting. The island's perfect for my purposes. There are jungles with a maze of trails in them. Hills, swamps. Yes, but the animal. The animal, General Zara, it surprised me with the most exciting hunting in the world. No other hunting compares with it. For an instant, every day I hunt. I never grow bored. Now for I have a quarry with which I can match my wits. Yes, but you still have. I wanted the ideal animal to hunt. So I said, what are the attributes of an ideal quarry? And the answer was? Of course, it must have courage, cunning. And above all, it must be able to reason. Well, no animal reason. There is one that can. One? But you can't mean. And why not? Well, I. I can't believe you're serious, General Zarov. You're just joking. Joking? I'm quite serious. Speaking about hunting. Hunting? You're speaking about murder. Well, dear me, that unpleasant word. I think I can show you that your scruples are quite ill founded. Yes, I hunt the scum of the earth. Sailors from tramp ships, Lascars, Japs. Mongrels. A thoroughbred horse, a hound is worth more than a score of them. But these are men. Precisely. That is why I use them. It gives me pleasure. They can reason? After a fashion. So they are dangerous. But where do you get them? We visit my training school. It is in the cellar. I have about a dozen pupils down there now. They're from the Spanish box San Lucar. That had the bad luck to go with the rocks out there. A very inferior lot, I regret to say. Poor specimens. More accustomed to the deck than to the jungle. Another glass? No, it's a game, you see. Sort of game. I suggest to one of them that we go hunting. I give him a supply of food and an excellent hunting knife. I give him three hours start. I am to follow, armed only with a pistol of the smallest caliber and range. If my quarry eludes me for three whole days. He wins the game. If I find him, he loses. Suppose he refuses to be hunted? I give him his choice, of course, he need not play that game if he does not wish to. If he does not wish to hunt. I turn him over to Ivan. Ivan once had the honor of serving as official Nauta to my old king. And he has his own ideas of sport. Invariably, Mr. Rainsford, invariably. They choose the hunt. And if they win? To date, I have not lost. I do not wish you to think me a braggart, Mr. Rainsford. Many of them afford only the most elementary sort of problem, I assure you. Occasionally, I strike a tartar. Sure remembers the tartar, don't you, darling? Yes, yes, he almost did win. I eventually had to use the hounds, you see. Wait a moment. I'll open the window. Hello, boys. Rather good lot, I think. They're let out at seven every night. If anyone should try to get into my castle. Or out of it. Something extremely regrettable would occur to you. But enough of this. Come. I want to show you a collection of heads. I'm quite sure you've never seen before. Rejoin me in the library for coffee. I hope that you will excuse me tonight, General. I'm really not feeling well at all. Indeed. I know what it is. My old complaint on you. We. Boredom. You need some excitement. Tonight we'll hunt. Hey, Mr. Rainsford. You and I. You're wrong, General. I won't hunt. I won't murder. As you wish, my friend. The choice rests entirely with you. But may I not venture to suggest. That you will find my idea of sport more diverting than Ivan's? My dear fellow, you. You don't mean that you plan to hunt me? My dear fellow, have I not told you I always mean what I say about hunting? This is really an inspiration. I drink to a foeman worthy of my steel. At last. I simply can't believe this must Be some sort of dream. You'll find the game worth playing, Mr. Rainsford. Think of it. Your brain against mine. Your woodcraft against mine. Your strength, your stamina against mine. Outdoor chess. And the stake is not without value, eh? And if I win? I'll cheerfully acknowledge myself defeated. If I do not find you by midnight of the third day, my sloop will place you on the mainland near a town. Or you can trust me and give you my word as a gentleman and a sportsman. Of course, you, in turn, must agree, to say nothing of your visit here. I will agree to nothing of the kind. Oh, well, in that case. But why discuss that now, three days hence? We can discuss it over a bottle of Veuve de Cau. Unless. Well, your choice, Mr. Winsfeld. I'm a hunter, you know my choice. Elan here will supply you with hunting clothes, food and knife. I suggest you wear moccasins. They leave a poorer trail. I suggest, too, that you avoid the big swamp in the southeast corner of the island. We call it Death Swamp. There's quicksand there. Well, I must beg you to excuse me now. We always take our siesta after our lunch, don't we, Shushu? Come, my little pet. You'll hardly have time for a Nap, I fear, Mr. Ainsman, you want to start? Of course. I shall not follow till dusk. Hunting at night is so much more exciting than by day, don't you think? Well, revoir, Mr. Rinsford. Revoir. I'd fought my way through the bush for two hours, repeating to myself over and over again, I must keep my nerve. I must keep my nerve. My whole idea at first was to put distance between myself and General Zarav. And to this end, I had plunged along through the thicket, spurred on by the sharp rows of something very much like panic. Now I had got a grip on myself. I'd stopped. I was taking stock of the situation. I saw that straight flight was futile. Inevitably, it would bring me face to face with the sea. Well, I'll give him a trail, I muttered. And I struck off from the rude path I had been following and into the trackless wilderness. I made a series of intricate loops. I doubled back on my trail again and again, recalling all the lore of the fox hunt, all the dodges of the fox. Night found me exhausted, my hands and face lashed by the branches on a thick wooden ridge. My need for rest was imperative. And I thought I played the fox. Now I must play the cat of the fable. A big tree with a thick trunk and outspread branches was nearby and taking care not to leave the slightest mark, I climbed up and stretched out among the broad limbs. Rest brought me new confidence and almost a feeling of security. Even so expert a hunter as General Zaroff cannot trace me here, I assured myself. An apprehensive night crawled slowly by, my mind keenly alert for any sound, any warning towards the dawn. An instinct I never knew existed like an animal must possess, impelled me to look far off in the distance in a restless direction. Sure enough, following the trail with the sureness of a bloodhound came General Zaroff. Nothing escaped those searching black eyes. No cracked blade of grass, no bent twig, no mark, no matter how fine in the moss. My heart pounding furiously, I slid down quickly from the tree and struck off again into the woods. I knew I had to do something desperate. I knew that I had little time to do it. 300 yards from my hiding place, I stopped where a huge dead tree leaned precariously on a smaller living one. Throwing off my sack of food, I took my knife from its sheath and began to work with all my energy. The job was finished at last, and I threw myself down behind a fallen lion 300ft away. I did not have to wait long. Patience, patience, my darling. You'll be fed. Rainsford. Rainsford. Got him. Ranworth. If. If you are within sound of my voice, as I suppose you are, let me congratulate you. Not many men know how to make a male eye man catcher. Luckily for me, I too have hunted in Malacca. You are proving interesting, Mr. Redsworth. Very interesting. The tree brushed my shoulders. I jumped back. I'm going to have to wound rest. There is flight. I should be back, Mr. Renford. I should be back. It was flight now. A desperate, hopeless flight that carried me on for hours. I don't know where I got the strength. I kept telling myself over and over again that I must keep my nerve, that I was competing with a monster super huntsman. Dusk came, then darkness, and still I managed to press on. The ground grew softer under my moccasins. The vegetation grew ranker, denser. Insects bit at me savagely. Suddenly, as I stepped forward, my foot sank into the U. I tried to wrench it back, but the muck sucked viciously at my foot like a giant leech. With a violent Amit, I tore my foot loose. I knew where I was then. Deaths swamp and its quicksand. The softness of the earth had given me an idea. I stepped back from the quicksand a dozen feet or so and began to dig. When the pit was above my shoulders I climbed out and from some hard saplings cut stakes and sharpened them to fine points. These stakes I planted in the bottom of the pit with the point sticking upwards. As fast as I could, I wove a rough carpet of weeds and branches. And with it covered the mouth of the pit. And wet with sweat and aching with tiredness, I crouched behind the stump of a lightning charm tree. Oh, I knew Zaroff was coming. I could hear the paddling sound of his feet on the soft barrel. Zaroff was coming, and coming fast. He was not feeling his way along foot by foot. Crouching there, I couldn't either see him nor see the pit. I lived a year and a minute frozen, every muscle tense. Very good rainfall very good. You've done well. Your Burmese tiger pit has claimed one of my finest towns again. You score, I think, Mr. Rainsford. I'll see what you can do against my whole pack. I'm going back to get them now. Thank you for a most amusing evening. At daybreak, lying near the swamp, I was awakened by a sound that made me know I had new things to learn about fear. It was a distant sound, faint and wavering, but I knew was the baying of a pack of hounds. I could do one of two things. I could stay where I was and wait. That was suicide. I could flee. That was postponing the inevitable. I had put my last hope bit of that tiger pit. For a moment I stood there thinking. All at once, an idea that held a wild chance came to me. And tightening my belt, I headed away from the swamp. The being of the hounds drew nearer. It would be on me any minute now. My mind worked frantically. I thought of a native trick I had learned in Uganda. I caught hold of a springy young sapling. Into it fastened my hunting knife. With the blade. Pointing down the trail with a bit of wild grapevine, I tied back the sapling. Then I ran for a raised their terrifying voices as they heard them and felt the fresh scent. I knew then how an animal at bay feels. At last I had to stop to get my breath. The baying of the hounds stopped just as suddenly. And with it my heart stopped too. They must have reached the knife. Excitedly, I shimmied up a tree and looked back. My pursuers had stopped, all right. But the hope that had been in my brain when I climbed died. For in the shallow valley, I saw that General Zaroff was still on his feet. But Ivan was not. Apparently had come along to hold the hounds. The knife, driven by the recoil of the springing tree had splintered through his chest. I'd hardly tumbled to the ground when the pack took off. The cry again. Nerve, nerve, nerve, nerve. I patted as I dashed along. A blue gap showed between the trees, dead ahead. The hounds were almost on top of me. I forced myself on towards that gap. I reached it. It was the shore of the sea. Across the COVID I could see the gloomy gray stone of the castle. 20ft below me, the sea rumbled and hissed. I hesitated. I heard the hounds. Then I leaped far off into the sea. Oh, yes, the sea was good to me. And I'm here, safe in the general's bedroom, waiting for him. Three days are up and I've eluded him. But now I must go further. In a moment we will meet, he and I. And he will be unarmed. Only one of us is going to live. You understand that Now. Quiet. Shushu. Shushu. You must be patient, dear. You must forgive me. You're hungry, I know, great General Grain. How on earth did you get a swam? I found it easier and quicker than walking through the jungle. I congratulate you, strong. You've won the game. Oh, no. Gentle. I'm still a beast at bay. Here. Get ready, General Zaroff. Swords. Yes. Two of them. I see. Oh, very good. Very good, Rainsford. One of us then, is to furnish a repast for the hounds. The other will sleep in this. This very excellent bed. Excellent. On guide Renfred Scott. Kate was just as my late host said it would be. A very excellent bed. And so closes the Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell, starring Orson Welles. Tonight's tale of suspense. Mr. Wells was General Zaroff and Keenan Wynne Rainsford, this is your narrator, the man in black, who conveys to you Columbia's invitation to spend this half hour in suspense next week, same time, when Orson Welles will again be our star. In Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's story, the Lost Special. The producer of suspense is William Spear, who tonight also directed the broadcast. And who was Bernard Herman? The conductor Lucian Marowick, who composed the original score. And Private Jack Anson Fink, the radio author, collaborated on tonight's suspense. This is cbs, the Columbia Broadcasting System. Suspense presented by Roma. Wines made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Salud. Your El Senor Roma toasts the world. The wine for your table is Roma, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is the man in black here for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California, to introduce this weekly half hour of suspense. Tonight in Hollywood, Roma brings you The MGM star, Mr. Charles Lawton. The suspense play which stars Charles Lawton and which is produced and directed by William Speer is called Wet Saturday. This remarkable and sardonic star is rather difficult to describe. It. Well, it most certainly isn't a whodunit, is it, Mr. Lawton? No, no, it definitely isn't. The question involved is not at all a matter of who done it. It's a matter of whether or not the who who done it is going to get it in the neck. And if if not, then who is regardless of who actually done it. It's very complicated. Very well put, sir. And before the curtain rises on suspense, will you eavesdrop with me a moment? Dinner is over. A delightful dinner in one of the great homes of a land far to the south. And one of the guests is complimenting his host. Ah, Rahul, your reputation as a host grows with each of your magnificent dinners. That superb wine tonight, where did you find such perfection? I will tell you a great secret. When I visited our good neighbor Nalai, the United States, I tasted the wines of their California and knew instantly it was a great, great wine country. And I learned that some of their very choicest vineyards produced the wine we enjoyed tonight. Roma wine. Our good neighbor to the south is right. Our own sunny California provides perfect conditions of climate and soil to produce some of the world's finest wines. What? Your wine connoisseur of another land, prized as an expensive import with import duties and high shipping costs included in his purchase price, comes to you from the great Roma wineries in California as an inexpensive American product. Roma's wide varieties of types and Roma's modest cost means that you can enjoy these fine wines often. When entertaining guests as a pre meal appetizer to serve with meals or for after dinner enjoyment, you will be amazed at how little your dealer will ask for an assortment of several types of these fine Roma wines. Visit your dealer tomorrow and ask him for Roma R O M A America's largest selling wine made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. And now with Wet Saturday and with the performance of Charles Lawton, we again hope to keep you in suspense. On this rainy afternoon we should like you to meet the Princy family and their visitor. They are of course at home. Mrs. Princy daughter, Millicent George, the son and heir sprawled on a couch and finally Mr. Princey fighting on a dry pipe. Their living room is dull and overstuffed. Rain beats at the windows. They are any middle class family at home on a wet day. Except for one small item. As you sit with them in the living room, you can see through the door to the sun porch a pair of men's feet encased in high black shoes. They look like the feet of a curate. There is a tenseness in the room. The air is charged with excitement, but the feet are very still. But don't keep staring at him. Listen to me, all of you. Don't you see? They'd hang her. That's what they do. They'd hang her. Oh, Fred, it's too awful. Awful? It's catastrophic. The supposedly sweet, gentle, intelligent girl respects by the whole village doing a thing like this. Think of the publicity and the disgrace. Do you think I'm going to resign from the bench, the vestry and sell out and live in some foggy hotel abroad? Oh, no, no, no. I'll kill myself. I will. I will. Don't be a fool any more than you have been the governor. Me? Will you be quiet? Wouldn't be so bad if it were you, George. Everybody in the village knows you're not responsible. Get off that couch and sit up in your spine. You might be of a little use here if you could think. I know this. This isn't my funeral. Shut up. As long as I can remember, George, you've been a trial and tribulation to me. Oh, I can't stand it. I can't stand it. You've got to stand it, my dear. And keep that hysterical note out of your voice, do you hear? Yes. Yes, we are. We are talking about the weather now, George. Yeah, George, if he fell down the old well, say, striking his head several times, what about that? I really don't know, governor. What about it? Don't be an ass, George. I'm asking you to think. He'd have had to hit the side several times in 30 or 40ft at all the correct angles. No, no, I'm afraid not. I'm afraid that won't do it. Oh, we'll have to go over it all again, Millicent. Oh, no, Father. No, I couldn't. I couldn't. Millicent, we must go over it all again. Ted, you're torturing her. Oh, face facts, Mater. With him lying there, no use pretending it's a picnic. It might hang you, Millicent. Oh, do stop that shaking. Stop it, Millicent. Stop it. You must stop it. You must keep your voice quiet, Millicent. We are talking about the weather. Now we will proceed. I can't. I can't. Not with those feet there. You should have thought of that, Millie. I'm not moving her. Shut up, George, and stop shuffling Your feet. Now, Millicent, look at me and answer me truthfully. Do you hear? Answer me. You were in the Croaky court? Yes. Who knew you were in love with this wretched curate? The whole village knows. They've been sniggering about it in the pub for the three years past. Shut up, George. Millicent, we continue. You were on the Croaky court? Yes. You were putting the croaky set into its box? Yes. It. It was starting to rain. I was carrying the balls and mallets into the sun porch. The box was there. You heard someone enter the garden gate and come across the yard? Yes. Could you see who it was? Not at first. I was going into the sun porch. I threw down all the mallets but the red one and turned round. And it was Withers? Yes. So you called him? Yes. Loudly. Did you call him loudly? Could anyone have heard? No, Father. I'm sure not. I didn't really call him. I just spoke his name. He saw me as I went to the door. He just waved his hand and came over. Can I find out from you whether there was anyone about? Whether he could have been. Scene? I'm sure not, Father. I'm quite sure. So you both went into the sun porch? Yes. It was raining hard. Then. What did he say? He said, hello, Millie, and excuses coming in the back way. But he set out to walk over to Liston? Yes. And he said, passing the park, he'd seen the house and suddenly thought of me and he thought he'd just look in for a minute. He had something to tell me. Yes, go on. He said he was so happy, he wanted me to share it. He'd heard from the bishop he was to have vicarage and it wasn't only that. It meant he could marry. And he began to stutter and get all confused and because I thought it meant me. Don't tell me what you thought. Tell me exactly what he said. Nothing else? Yes. Answer, Governor. Well? Oh, dear. Stop crying. It's a luxury you can no longer afford. Tell me what happened. He said. No. He said it wasn't me. It's Ella Bragdon Davis. And he was sorry and all that. Then he went to go and then I got mad. He turned his back. I had the red mallet of the croak he set in my hand. I'd forgot to drop it in the box when I came and I was just. Did you shout or say scream, I mean, as you hit him? No, I'm sure I didn't. Did he? Come on, speak up. You Got a tongue in your head? No, Father. And then I threw it down. I came straight in here. I went to look for Mother, that's all. My poor baby. And you're sure no one else was about? No, no one. No one. Leave the child alone, Fred. You're not such a child, Mater. Oh, really, I had no idea, George. Will you keep quiet? I'm thinking. You see, George, he probably told people he was going to list and certainly no one knows he came here, for he didn't decide until he crossed the park. He might have been attacked in the woods. We must consider every detail. A curate with his head battered in. Oh, don't, Father. Don't. Now, shut. Shut up. A curate with his head bettered in. A curate with his head bettered in. Well, who would want to kill Withers? Who'd want to kill Withers? Well, I would, with pleasure. How do you do, Mrs. Princess? Well, well, well, well. Sit down, sit down. Pray, you mustn't get up for me, Mrs. Princey. You are the Millicent. My word, I'm just being neighborly on a bad day. I wanted to ask you about those dahlia bulbs. I took a shortcut on account of the rain and walked right in. I knew you wouldn't mind. He heard you, Father. Oh, dear. We can all have our little jokes, can't we? Don't you pretend to be shocked. This way, Smollett. This chair facing the fireplace, old man. Sit down, Mother. Just straighten the curtain to the sun porch, dear. It looks so gloomy out there. Might as well shut the rain out. Well, we were just talking about a little theoretical cure at killing Smollett. Young people these days like fellows. Parsonicide. Justifiable personicide. You heard about Ella Bragdon Davis? I should be a proper laughingstock. Why should you be a proper laughingstock, Smollett? I had a shot in that direction myself. Did you? She half said yes, too. Hadn't you heard? He told most people. Now I look as if I were jilted. Too bad. Oh, fortune of War. Yes. Fortune of War, Yes. Odd how that happens, isn't it? Sit down, Smollett, old man. Mother, Millicent, would you console Captain Smollett with her best light conversation? George and I have something to look at outside that the rain you'll never. Very bad. Very bad. Come along, George. Right. Oh, governor, perhaps we'll need raincoats, huh? Oh, I don't think so, George. Just make yourself at home, Smollett. Make yourself at home, old boy. A cigarette, Captain Smollett? Oh, thank you. Thank you. Nasty day to be going out. Oh, it's something about the old well just off the sun porch door. You know, this terrible sudden weather seems to have loosened some of the stones. Too bad. Too dash bad. Spoils the tennis and the croquet. I mean, a day like this, doesn't it, Milly? Yes, it does. She was practicing out on the croquet court earlier. But do pull your chair nearer the fire, Captain. It was so damp, we thought it would be cosy to light it. Thank you. I'm quite comfortable. I. I hope you don't feel too bad about Ella Bragdon, David. Oh, can't always win, you know. Can't understand, though, what you women see in these bloodless clerics. Oh, I always thought Mr. Withers was a. Is a very charming man. I quite agree. But why should anyone want to marry him? You wouldn't want to marry him, would you? Marry? Not now, that is. I. I used to. Oh, no, of course not. Yes. Princess. Good Lord, man, you come on, fellow suddenly. I suppose I did. You don't mind this old double barrel shotgun, do you, Smollett? I've been working on it. May. Might I have your attention for a minute? There's something on the sun porch I'd like to show you. Yes. Yes, of course. Smollett. George and I went out to see if we could shoot some rats which had been driven out of the old well by the high water. We were afraid they might get into the house. But you must listen to me very carefully, very carefully, or you'll be shot by accident. Princeal. What's the matter with it? You heard me ask as you came in who would kill Withers. You also heard Millicent make a comment, an unguarded comment. Well, what of it? Very little. Unless you were to hear that Withers had met with a violent end this afternoon. And that, my dear Smollett, is what you are going to hear. What? Withers dead? Yes. Who? Who killed him? Millicent. Good Lord. Oh, shut up, sniveling Millie. Yes, it's a mess. And of course you would have remembered and guessed maybe. Yes, I. I suppose I should. Therefore, you constitute a problem. Why did she kill him? It's one of those disgusting things. Pitiable, too. I think she deluded herself that he was in love with. With her. Good heavens, Millie. Yeah. As of course. I see. He told her about the Davis girl. Ella Bragdon Davis. I understand. I have no wish, as you will comprehend, that she should be proved either a lunatic or a murderous I could hardly go on living here after that, could I? Besides, I'm rather fond of Millie. Quite. On the other hand, you know about it. Yes, I see. That makes me a problem. You were wondering if I could keep my mouth shut. If I promised. I'm wondering if I could believe you. But if I promised. If things went smoothly. Yes, but not if there was any sort of suspicion or any questioning. You would be afraid of being an accessory. I don't know. I do. What are we going to do? I can't see anything else. I mean, you never be fool enough to do me in. You can't get rid of two corpses. Well, I regard it as a better risk than the other. It could be an accident, or you and Withers could both disappear. There are possibilities in that, of course. Listen, you. You can't. I can. But there may be a way out. There is, Smollett. You gave it to me yourself. I. I did what? Well, you said you would kill Withers. You have a motive. Oh, look here, now, I'm. Listen, Smollett, I can't trust you. You must trust me, or else I will kill you now in the next minute. I mean that you can choose between living and dying. Go on. There's the old well just outside the sun porch door. That's what I'm going to put with us. No one outside knows he's come up here this afternoon. No one will ever look there for him unless you tell them. Now, you must give me evidence that you have murdered with us. I. I murdered him? Why do you want that? So that I should be dead sure that you'll never open your lips on the subject. I. I see. What evidence? George hit him in the face. Sure. You keep out of this capstan. You should be more careful. Look what your teeth did to my knuckle. Do it again, George. Okay, Father. How can you. You keep quiet, Millie. Stop sniveling. I'm sorry, Smollett, but there must be traces of a struggle between you and Withers. Then it will be not altogether safe for you to go to the police. Now, George, would you get the croaky mallet? And, George, take your handkerchief to it. You'll find it there on the sun porch floor. Oh, yeah, yeah. I got. He can. That's right, boy. There, Captain. There's the weapon. See? As I told you, Smollett, there it was. Now, you, if you please, just grasp the end that mashed with his head. I shall shoot you if you don't. Good Lord. You. You. You can't. There. All Right. That's it, old boy. That's right. Now, deposit it by the side of the house, out of the rain. Of course. Now, wait, George. First you'd better pull a few hairs out of his head and put them under the nail of Wither's right hand. Wait a minute. Sorry to muss your hair up, Captain. Oh, don't be a baby. Smile, sir. That's all we need. Enough for Withers, and we'll fix it right up. I'll be right with you, Governor Smollett. You may turn round now. Withers is just there in the sun porch. Drawback the curtain, old man. Good Lord. Yes, Messi. Now you, Smollett. Now, you've just got to drag him through the door and dump him in the old well just beyond the door. Captain, I. I won't touch him. I won't. All right, all right. Stand aside, George. Out of range, George. Just over there. There's only one place I want this charge of shot to go to. Now, Millie, you keep quiet and stop sniveling. My aim is. Wait a minute. Wait. That's better. That's better, Smollet. Much better. I go along now. In here. You got to take him outside, old boy. Why, the shoulders ought to do it. You keep quiet, George. Now, go on, Smollet. Go on. Under the arms. You've seen dead men before. Now, don't go green. Drag him out. Drag him, old boy. Do a little pulling. I'll just hold the gun here to make sure everything goes all right. Steady, now. Mind the step there, Mother. Come away from the window, dear. Don't look. But, Captain Marlowe, your father is a very resourceful man. Millicent, I'm sure what he's doing is. Captain, I can't stand it. You mustn't question your dear father. You two still at it? There's enough trouble around here without blubbering. Don't you call me blubbering, George Prince. Well, you see, Smollett, everything is perfectly safe. You remember, you see, that no one knows that Withers came here. Everyone thinks he walked off to Liston and he's. That's five miles of country to search. They'll never look in our well. Don't you see how safe it is? I guess so. Good heavens, old boy, you're dripping wet. Why don't you slip your raincoat on? Is the tea ready, dear? In just a minute, dear. I'll ring for Bridget. It's exactly what you need, Smollett, a nice, hot cup of tea. It's the best thing in the world to ward off a cold. Sit down. One show man. Don't you mind getting the chair wet? That's all right. Would you have a cigarette? I hope so for a boy. See, I stick to my pot. Funny how you get attached to pots. My wife always says to me. Everything's hot, ma' am. Oh, Bridget. Yes? Put the tray in front of me here on the table. Say, Captain, why, you've cut your lips. Oh, I just knocked it. Why, how dreadful. Here, Bridget, give the Captain this cup. Oh, no, no, no, no, thank you. I. I rather think I'll be running along, if you don't mind. Why, Captain Smollett, without any tea. If you don't mind, Mrs. Princey, if I could just have my raincoat. Oh, I'll get it for you, Captain. This is very distressing, Smollett. Very odd. I'll be all right presently, I'm sure. Oh, here we are. Let me help you, sir. Thank you, young man. There. You better go out the front way, Smollett. The walk is drier. Oh, let me hold the door for you, K. And don't worry, old fellow. Don't worry at all. No, no, no. I, I, I. Good afternoon. It's nothing serious, I imagine, dear. A little rest, of course. He'll be as right as rain. Oh, by the way, Millicent, you're not. You're not looking any too well, dear. Not well at all. I'm sure it was that croquet court. Being outdoors in weather like this is simply foolhardy. Mate is right, Millie. You saw what happened to Captain Smollett. Come along, dear. I shall give you a hot foot bath and put you to bed. A couple of days in bed and you'll be fine again. You get plenty of rest, Millicent. And don't you worry about a sing. That's the best cure for you, dear. I guess I'll have a little nap, too, Governor. Fine afternoon for a nap. Yes, it is nice. Indeed it is, Sam. Well, enjoy yourself, boy. I'll see you later. I'll see you all later. Your number, please. Oh, would you get me the police station? Police station? Right away, sir. Police headquarters, Sergeant Yancey speaking. Oh, hello, Sergeant. This is Princey of Abbotts Road. I believe you know me. Oh. Oh, Indeed I do, Mr. Princey. Sergeant, a rather horrible thing has just occurred. Quite extraordinary. It's murder, in fact. Murder? I'm afraid it looks rather bad. Well, it's for a close friend of ours. Unfortunately, we saw him do it. I think you better send someone over right Away. A man should be there right about now, Mr. Princess. I beg your pardon? I say our man should be there now. Constable Martin has his post right below your house there. Just rang in. Seems Captain Smollett was with him. Captain Smollett? He reported some rather queer goings on at your place. But I certainly didn't understand it was murder. But just don't touch anything, Mr. Princey, and don't worry. Worry at all. No, no, no, no, no, Sergeant, I won't worry. Thank you. Governor. Governor, where are you? Governor? Governor, where are you? I'm right here. And stop shouting. We. We have some visitors, Governor. I can see that. Well, Constable, good afternoon. Hello, Smollett. See what a remarkable fellow you are, coming back like this here to reenact the crime. Only the one against me, Princey. The one against the curate. I'll leave to you people. Extraordinary sense of humor you have, Mr. Princey. I just had a look at what's in your. Well, not a pretty sight, that. Not pretty at all. Yes, Captain Smollett was thorough, if nothing else. You said saw him when he did it, sir, out in the back. Oh, yes, yes. So quite. We were just returning from a walk and Smollett had evidently been lying for the curate, hiding out in those bushes by the road. I imagine he was never inside this house. Never. Ah. And you say, Captain? I say that while I was inside this house, a guest of the family, I was coerced into dragging the curate's body outside and dumping it in the warehouse. Well, there we are. Well, not entirely, Constable. I'll just remove my raincoat here and demonstrate how damp I got my clothes when I went outside without it. Now, that's interesting, isn't it? He undoubtedly removed his coat at some point between here and your post. I might as well tell you that his weapon, a red, croaky mallet, is out by the side of this house. I shouldn't be at all surprised that you've seen. Find his fingerprints all over it. All over the end of the mallet, Constable. The end that mashed with his head. Not the end I'd have to grasp in order to do the mashing. That's a decent try, Smollett, but it won't work. There must be other evidence, Constable. You'll undoubtedly find it when you examine the body. He means a hair under withers nails. Well, sir, I happen to notice something when your young George there opened the door for me. If you'll carefully look, I believe you'll find a few of my precious hairs under his Nails too. What are you trying to say, George? Will you, Constable, this is a complete waste of time. So far as a violent struggle between Smollett and Withers is concerned. Smollett's face speaks for itself quite eloquently. But no more eloquently than your son's knuckles. As you see, Constable. A fresh abrasion. He did that on my teeth. Or did he? What? I said, or did he? He might have done that on Wither's teeth. Oh. Oh, I see. I see what you mean. But I didn't govern. He said that. I didn't. You keep still, you nitwit. Let me think. Let me think. As a matter of fact, George, the more I think of it, the more I'm convinced it was your voice. I heard quite a vigorous quarrel. Something about the curate jilting your sister. Don't be ridiculous. Very well, Princey. If he didn't do it, who did? Yes, that's what I like to know. How about it, Mr. Princip? Yes, that is a sticker. All right. George, my boy, it looks to me as if you're elected. Elected? What do you mean? I didn't do it. Keep your mouth. Well, I won't. I'm not going to take the blame for her. Millie did it. She did it with the mallet. I saw. Me? Why, Millie, you could prove that. Prove it? Well, yes, yes. Her fingerprints on the mallet. Don't you remember when you made me touch the mallet? When you pick with your handkerchief, George, I'm sure you wiped that handle clean. Oh, well, I can hardly expect you to remember that if you can't even remember killing the curate. Godfather, I told you to keep still. George, I am thinking. But, Gunther, you're not going to let him say that. As long as I can remember, George, you have been a trial and tribulation to me. Me? What? You shouldn't have done it, George. You shouldn't have done it. Now, let's all have a nice hot cup of tea. Warms the cockles, the arms. Very good for you. And so closes WET Saturday, starring Mr. Charles Lawton. Tonight's tale of suspense. In just a moment, we shall hear again from Mr. Lawton. But first, let me ask you a question. Isn't it true the things we most enjoy are so often the little extra things? And more often than not, something that pleases the taste, that suggests a bottle of really good wine. Roma wine. It's so easy for you to make certain of high quality in your wine. Because all you have to do is to go to your dealer and ask for Roma, America's largest selling wines. They are made in California, one of the world's greatest wine producing sections. You'll have your choice of Roma's great variety of types, from a delicious tangy sherry, a brilliant claret or a hearty Burgundy to a sweeter, heavier port. And you will be so impressed by the modest cost of Roma wines, you will want to enjoy them regularly at home as well as when you entertain. For this traditional form of hospitality is smart yet inexpensive. A full measure of enjoyment, yet moderation in its best sense for wines with greatness of character. Always ask for Roma wines. R O M A made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. But remember, before you buy wine, buy war bonds and stamps. Hello, this is Charles Lawton. I hope you enjoyed our play this evening and next week. I'm told that suspense will bring you another of John Collier's stories. It's one of my very particular favorites. It's called Back for Christmas and your star will be Peter Laurie. Charles Lawton appeared by courtesy of Metro Goldwyn Mayor, producer of the Technicolor musical Thousands Cheer. Don't forget. Then next Thursday, same time for Peter Laurie in suspense presented by Roma Wines. R O M A made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Suspense presented by Roma Wines made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Salute your Eltinor. Roma toasts the world. The wine for your table is Roma. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is the man in Black here for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California to introduce this weekly half hour of suspense. Tonight in Hollywood, Roma brings you as star, Mr. Peter Laurie. The suspense play which stars Mr. Laurie and which is produced and directed by William Speer, is called Back for Christmas. In this series, Romer brings you tales calculated to intrigue you, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation and then withhold the solution until the last possible moment. And so with back Back for Christmas and with the performance of Peter Laurie, we again hope to keep you in suspend all the way. Oh, what fun. Restaurant. Yes, Maria, what on earth are you doing down here in the cellar? Oh, just doing a little digging. And why, may I ask, have you chosen this day of all days to dig up the cellar floor? Oh, I thought because the weather has been so damp, this would be a good time to plant that little devil's garden I told you about. Devil's garden? Whatever nonsense is that? Don't you remember? That was my little joke about it. You See, I've managed to get hold of the spores of several unclassified wild orchids. In a wild state, they bloom under damp masses of leaf mold. The South American Indians call them devil flowers because they appear to bloom under the ground. Well, I'm sure the South American Indians will be very interested. If you successfully in growing these ridiculous flowers under the cellar floor. Whom else it will interest, I can't imagine. Oh, what that terrible smell? Oh, that's the lead mold. Chemically identical with the earth blanket they grow under in their wild state. And I want to get these started before we close the house. Do you realize that we're sailing for America a week from today? And you've made no arrangements whatever? Unless you call digging a hole in the cellar making arrangements. I certainly don't. Devil's Garden, indeed. Sometimes I think you're going soft in the head, Hubert. Oh, I suppose it is inconsiderate of me. You see, and I've been wanting to try this experiment for a long time. But with all those lectures and seminars at the university, there never seemed to be enough time. Well, there certainly isn't any time for it now. I suppose you've forgotten I made an appointment for you at the barbers this afternoon. Must I shave my bed beard off her mind? I thought we'd been through all that. Of course you must. They don't wear beards in America. Bad enough you're speaking with that accent. They'll probably think we're Germans as it is. Oh, I should think it would be quite easy just to explain that I'm Swiss. Now, Hubert, don't be argumentative. Go and get your jacket on and do as I tell you. Yes, Hermiona. And don't forget to take your umbrella. It looks like rain. Yes, Hermione. And don't look so put upon, Hubert. Someone has to plan things in this house. Never even get to the university in time for your lectures, much less make arrangements for a trip to America. I know, but what about my specimens? There'll be plenty of time to plant your precious devil's garden when we get home from America. We're not going to be gone forever, you know. We'll be back here for Christmas. Yes, of course. Back for Christmas. I forgot that. We'll try to remember it. And if you can't do that, just do as I tell you. I've been making the plans in this house for 20 years. And if there's any digging to be done, I'll manage that as well. You understand, Hubert? Yes, Hermione. Good now, you have just 20 minutes to clean up this mess down here and keep your appointment at the barbers. And when you're finished there, I want you to come straight home. All right? Oh, I wanted to stop at Ms. Markham's and pick up some books I ordered. Well, all right, but don't loiter there the whole afternoon mulling over those old books the way you usually do. Now, hurry and clear up this rubbish. Get rid of that smelly stuff. And no more digging, mind you. No more digging. I'll show her. I'll have my devil's garden if I. No more digging. Hey. No more digging. Oh. 15 men on a deadman's chest. You. You win a bottle, rump. Good evening, Sir. Good evening, Ms. Morgan. Why, it is Professor Schumacher, isn't it? Do you like me better this way? You look ever so much younger without the beard. 20 years at least. 20 years. Oh, you'll be glad to know those books you ordered ever finally arrived. Oh, yes, the books. Let me see. The Phytotomy of Phthaloid Gametophytes and Coniferous Shrubs of North America. Those are the ones you ordered? Yes, thank you. You're very kind, Ms. Markham. Why kind, Professor Schumacher? Well, not. Not many young ladies in bookshops would go out of their way to look up array of books for an old print professor of botany. Why, you're not old, Professor Schumacher. Really, you look. What do I look like? And besides, I adore botany. It. It's my particular hobby. Oh, really? You've never told me that before, Ms. Markham. Well, I was afraid to. You. You looked so imposing with the beard and all. Miss Markham, forgive me if this sounds foolish, but since talking with you today, I. I feel a shaving off my beard is the most important thing I've done for 20 years. Oh, it is. I. I'm sure it is. I'm so sorry that I've been so distant with you all this time. Oh, there were times when I almost spoke up. Times when you came in here tired after a day with your students at the university. You seem so alone. The way I'm alone in the world. I'd like to have asked you to stay a while and talk with me, but some way or other, I. I always wind up giving you your change and letting you go on your way. Say, you. You're alone in the world since my father died. Oh, miss. Miss Markham, did. Did you never think of marrying? My father was a very remarkable man. I never found anyone who seemed to measure up to what he led me to expect. Of men, Miss Markham. It's been so long since anyone called me by my first name. I'd like you to, if you want to. It's Marian. Marion. Oh, how nice. And. And yours? Well, Hubertus, but. But in English. Hubert sounds better. How long have you been alone, Hubert? Alone? I knew you were a widower. Of course, I. The first time I saw you a widower. I can always tell. There's a certain sadness in a man's eyes. A sweet sadness, I think, when. When he's been married. And then we do. I never thought of it in quite that way. Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been talking like this, I suppose. But I've often wondered what she must have been like. Your wife, I mean. Hermione. Not an easy woman to forget. Very strong. Always managing things. The house, my wardrobe, my friends. Even when we dined at a restaurant, she even then ordered my food. She was always managing things her whole life. Managed herself to death, poor woman. She must have loved you very much. But she needn't have put herself out. So it's plain to see you don't need things managed for you. No. You need companionship, I think. Someone sympathetic with your work. But the last thing on earth you need is a manager. How well you put it that the last thing on earth. Operator? Operator, are you there? I'm still waiting on that call to Salisbury. Well, put them on quickly. Hello? Is this Paul holton sons? It's Mrs. Hubert Schumacher. Did you receive my letter? Good. Now, remember, will be back for Christmas, and I want the job done without fail. What's that? No, no, I'm sure he doesn't suspect anything. Send it to me in New York as I instructed you. Addressed in my name, of course. Yes, I've already put them in the mail. You'll get them tomorrow. Thank you. Thank you so much. Oh, here you are, Hubert. Where have you been? Oh, backstairs. I dismissed the servants. Dismissed the servants? Mm. But I've asked some friends of mine into a farewell luncheon. Go and tell them it's a mistake. Well, I'm afraid it's too late now. They've packed and gone. You have messed things up properly. How many times have I told you to leave things to me? I make the plans around here. Yes. Hermione, you have to do better than this when I plan the trip home, or we'll never in the world be back for Christmas. Back for Christmas? Back for Christmas? Must you keep saying that? Why not? We are coming back for Christmas, aren't we? Supposing I I were offered a professorship in one of those wealthy American universities. Nonsense. Americans care nothing for botany. Well, Luther Burbank was an American, wasn't he? Yeah, it's different. What have you ever done except muck around in the dirt with a lot of roots and tubers? Well, they asked me to lecture, didn't he? All right, all right. Now, there's no use getting yourself in a state about this, Hubert. No doubt this extra money will come in very handy when we arrive back. Back? For Christmas. Pretty. No good to make a joke of it. Heaven knows where you'd be today if I hadn't got a sense of time. Yes, Hermione. And as you've been so foolish as to dismiss the servants, you may empty the ashtrays and straighten up this room while we're waiting for the guest to arrive. I'm going in to have my bath. Call me when they get here. Marion, it's Hubert. No, no, darling. No, nothing is wrong. My plans are the same, unless you have changed. No. We'll meet in New York then and be married then. I'll explain to you why later. You just have to trust me. Yes. Yes, madame. Hubert, I'm so sorry. I can't talk any longer. Yes, I'll meet you in New York without fail. I'll feel the same man. Lie. Hubert, were you talking on the phone just now? Yes. Yes, Hermione. Whoever was it? Oh, Freddie. Freddie Sinclair. But didn't I hear you say something about meeting somebody in New York? Why, yes. Freddy said he might possibly get over there before we even leave. And I said of course we'd meet him there if he decided to go. That seems very peculiar. But then all of your friends are peculiar. Yes, Hermione. And just look at your jacket. Have you been digging in that cellar again? Yes, Hermione. Well, there's no need for it. You can't possibly get that Devil's Garden thing finished before we sail for America. Go and change your clothes before the guests arrive. Oh, never mind. I see somebody coming up the walk now. Go and let them in. Yes, Hubert. Yes. Look out the window. There's professor and Mrs. Goodenough. But who's that with them? Precisely? Freddie Sinclair. Peculiar. You should have been talking to him on the phone not three minutes ago. And now here he is. Yes, isn't it? But then, as you see, Hermione, all of my friends. Friends are peculiar. Not half so peculiar as you digging in the cellar the very day we leave for America. Just look at yourself. And now that I Think of it. Yes. Oh, never mind. Go and let them in. Oh, you were going to ask me something, Hermione. About the hole I'm digging in a cellar. Good heavens. Stop rolling your eyes about that way. One would think you were digging a grave down there instead of a storage bin. Yes, Hermione. What's that? I said yes, Hermione. Father, open the door and please stop saying yes, Hermione. I think, my dear, I have said it for the last time. A professor of botany, his loving wife and an oblong pit in the cellar just the right size for his botanical specimens. His devil's garden. With these ingredients for a story of a perfect crime. Back for Christmas by John Collier and starring Peter Laurie. The Roma Wine Company closes the curtain for a moment on another breathless study in suspense. In this brief intermission in the play, it's pleasant to think about the holidays. Not everyone celebrates the holidays. Against a background of snow and pine trees, somewhere south of the Gulf and the Caribbean, in a gracious home surrounded by palm trees in the warm sun, you might find holiday dinners ending this way. One moment, please. Our North American guest wishes to propose a toast. Yes, mis amigos. I drink a toast in gratitude to you for your gracious hospitality and the enjoyment you've given me. An American so far from home. It is only a fair exchange, my friend. This wine in which you drink your toast, it brings enjoyment to us from your country. From America. It is Roma wine, made in your own California. Yes. And when you choose the wine for your holiday table, remember this, only a few wines are so fine that many countries of the world import them. And among these greatly enjoyable wines are the wines of Roma R O M A made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Yet here in America, we are truly fortunate, for we may buy Roma wines at a very low cost since we don't have to pay import duty or costly shipping charges. So serve Roma wine with pride on any and all holiday occasions. Serve Roma too, for everyday dinners. You can afford to ask your dealer tomorrow for your favorite Roma wine, America's largest selling wine. But before you buy wine, buy war bonds. And now it is with pleasure that we bring back to our sound stage Mr. Peter Laurie in Act 2 of Back for Christmas. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Back for Christmas. Hermione was so positive we would be back for Christmas that last afternoon, pouring tea out for a few friends who had come in to say last minute farewells. She kept reiterating it. Now, mind you, Hermione, don't let those Americans lure your husband with one of their fat university jobs. We absolutely must have you with us for Christmas. He shall be back, I promise. Well, it's not absolutely certain, of course, Hubert. What do you mean, it's not certain? Of course it's certain. After all, Hubert Holmes, you've contracted to lecture for only three months. Oh, that's quite right. But then, of course, anything may happen. Hubert adores being unpredictable. Now, what other man would decide the day? The very day, mind you, before leaving for America to dig a great hole in the floor of the cellar. In the cellar? Yes. He's going to put some unclassified wild orchids down there. A devil's garden, if you please. It sounds so mysterious. That's Hubert, though it's really quite simple. However, once you find out what he's up to. Now, take the telephone call he put through to you a few minutes ago, Freddy. To me? Of course. Now, Hubert wanted to surprise me about your plan to meet us in New York next month. Wasn't that why he called to ask you not to mention it? My dear Hermione, Hubert couldn't possibly have telephoned me within the past hour. I've been walking in the park since 3. He didn't telephone you? How could he? It is for my going to America. No, no, no, no, no. Come, Freddy, come. You may as well confess. Hermione has just found me out again. But Hubert's old chap. I really. Do you see what a poor liar Hubert makes? He's red as a beetroot. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, professor, stringing poor Hermione along like that? And as for you, Freddy, I'm furious you said nothing to us about going to America. But look here, old girl, I've been trying to tell everyone here that I'm nothing. Nonsense. The game's gone on long enough. Besides, we must start getting ready now. It was marvelous of all of you to come in to say goodbye. And don't worry about Hubert's little jokes. I will bring him back for Christmas. You may rely on. They all believed her. For years she had been promising me for dinner parties, garden parties, committees. And the promises had always been kept. This time they would not be. I had seen to that. The servants were gone for good, the farewells all set. I had time to the minute how long it would take to fill in a hole in a cellar. My devil's garden. Upstairs in a bedroom, I undressed and put on my old bathrobe. And then I. I opened the door into Hermione's Room. Oh, Hermione, have you a moment to spare? Of course, dear. I'm just finished. Well, then, will you come in here for a moment, please? There's something rather extraordinary here. Oh, good heavens, Hubert. What, are you lounging about next to the old box or. I told you to put it into the furnace. Well, I'll do it. I'll do it today. Yes, really, I will. Well, high time. Now, what is it you want to show me? Oh, here. Here in the bathroom. Just look. Who in the world do you suppose dropped a gold chain down the bathtub drain? Nobody has. Of course. Nobody wears such a thing. Then what is it doing in here? I don't see anything. Well, look, I'll hold this flashlight here for you. If you lean right over, you can see it shining. It's deep down. Such a lot of nonsense, just as we're. Well, I don't see it, Hubert. Go on looking, Hermione. Just a moment, Hubert. I absolutely refuse. Hubert, what are you doing? Take your hands off my neck. I will, Hermione, just as soon as I finish the arrangements for my trip to America. What are you talking about? You thought you were the only one who could plan things, didn't you? Didn't you, Hermione? Huh? Well, I've been making some plans of my own this past week. In exactly 2 minutes and 16 seconds, you'll be dead. You see? You see, I planned it very accurately. You'll never get away with it. Oh, I thought you would see that, Hermione. But I will get away with it. You won't mind a smile mal of to leave mo down in a cellar when I take you down there today? Yes. That is where you are growing, Hermione. Right into my devil's garden. That annoys you so much. My friends all expect me back for Christmas. They do? They don't hear from me. They'll start asking questions. No, they won't. Because you'll write them letters, Hermione, on the type, as you always do. They'll be signed h in that neat, correcting way you always sign your notes to your friends. Here, let me up now. No, it won't work, Hubert. You were never any good at planning. Oh, but I have changed. I have learned from watching you all these years. The lecture people in America. They'll expect you to be traveling with your wife. I will be traveling with my wife, but not my present wife. Hermione. Hubert. It won't work, I tell you. That pit you dug in the cellar. Oh, it will work. It'll serve its Purpose? Well, Hubert. No, no, I'm sorry, dear. This thing has to be done exactly as planned. You have just five seconds to say your prayers. Gilbert, you must listen the seller. Don't do it, Hubert. Later. Oh, Stuart. Yes, sir. Oh, and my wife, she in this post? She. She'll be taking her meals in our stateroom. For the old voyage, sir? Yes, for the whole voyage. I trust your wife is feeling better this morning, Professor Schumacher? A little. Not yet well enough to leave her cabin. Oh, what a shame. Oh, Professor Schumacher. Yes? Here's a copy of the radiogram you sent for your wife last evening. Thank you. I'll just check it over. Who. But. But look. Look here. Why, what's the matter? Did the typist make a mistake? No, no, it's nothing important. She can correct it later. For a moment, I had a feeling that Hermione had been leaning over my shoulder again. Correcting what I had written, as she had always did. I had written a radiogram to Professor Goodenough and his wife. Haven't been out of my cabin the whole beastly trip, Hubert. Well, no doubt we'll be back for Christmas. But the operator had left out the W, and it read, no Doubt we'll be back for Christmas. Exactly what Hermione would have written. Well, the rest of the trip was uneventful. Marion and I met in New York, just as we had planned. Just as we had planned. Professor. Mrs. Schumacher. We have reservations, I believe. Oh, yes. We've been expecting you, sir. Boy, take professor and Mrs. Schumacher's luggage up to their suite. You know, Mrs. Schumacher, you're quite a surprise. Your letter reserving the rooms was so thorough. I was expecting an older, more forbidding sort of person. Frankly, ma' am, no. As a matter of fact, we're just married. But I. My letter reserving the rooms. Oh. Oh, I wrote the letter, my dear. And I signed it Mrs. Hubert Schumacher. Just a joke. What a cunning old fox you are, Hubert. Now that I think of it. Oh, I almost forgot. There's a letter for you, Mrs. Schumacher. That's peculiar. I wonder who on earth. Oh, well, we'll find out in good time. Come along, darling. We are keeping the boy waiting. Come. Oh. Ah. Nothing like a cold, brisk shower to put a man to rights. Hubert, this letter. Oh, yes, the letter. Oh, dry my hair, will you, darling, please? It seems to be a bill of some sort from a building contractor in. In Salisbury. Oh, really? Oh, bother. Dry your own hair. Thank you, darling. Let's see this bill, or whatever it is. It's very Puzzling. Hubert, you were a widower, weren't you? I mean, Hermione isn't still alive? Good heavens, no. Well, let me read that. Mm. Dear Madame, this is to acknowledge your order together with the keys to your house in Launceston Place. Our man had no difficulty in finding the place where your husband had begun the excavation in a cellar. But apparently he changed his mind at the last moment and filled it in again. What is it, Hubert? Our man will begin digging tomorrow. And the job will be completed in ample time for your surprise Christmas present to your husband. We are happy to be conspirators with you in this thoughtful gesture and hope that Professor Schumacher will be pleased at the results of our work. Honey, is Devil's Garden very truly yours. Oh. Old Sons Contractors. What does it mean, Hubert? It means. Means that Hermione was right. I will be back for Christmas. We'll be back for Christmas. We will Back for Christmas Back for Christmas. Yes. Her money and so closes. Back for Christmas starring Mr. Peter Laurie. Tonight's tale of suspense. In just a moment, we shall hear again from Mr. Laurie. But first, just a word that seems appropriate. One of the world's oldest customs is the Christmas toast. And traditionally, down through centuries of war and peace, the Christmas toast has been drunk in wine. This year, when the glasses are filled and raised once again, we know that in every home, the toast will be to a speedy victory and a speedy return of those we love. And before we set the wine glasses down, let us all resolve to do everything within our power to help make that toast come true. Let us resolve to help supply the weapons of war by buying even more and more war bonds. Let us resolve to face our own inconveniences without complaining. And above all, let us resolve that when this war is at last over, each of us will exert all our effort to see that future Christmases truly express peace on earth, goodwill to men. This thought, together with our very best wishes of the season, is the Roma Wine Company's Christmas message for you, its friends here in America and throughout the world. This is Peter Laurie. Thank you for listening to our suspense play this evening. And I know you're looking forward to next week's show, as I am. It is called Finishing School and its subtitle might be the famous quotation, the female of the species is more deadly than the male. Don't forget then, next Thursday, same time, for Margot Elsa Lanchester, Janet Beecher and a distinguished all feminine cast. In suspense, presented by Roma Wines. R O M A made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. We just heard my favorite suspense episodes from 1943. The White Rose Murders, Murder Goes for a Swim. Sorry, wrong number. The Most Dangerous Game, Wet Saturday, and Back for Christmas. That will do it for this week's show. Thanks for joining me. I'll be back next week to share my favorites from 1944. In the meantime, you can check out down these Mean Streets, my Radio Detective podcast. New episodes of that show are out on Sundays. If you like what you're hearing, don't be a stranger. You can rate and review the show on Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen. And if you'd like to lend support to the show, you can visit buymeacoffee.com meanstsotr now, good night until next week when I'll share my favorite episodes from 1944. Each a story that's one 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. Neighbors to all races and religions. Remind them that being good neighbors has helped make our country great and kept her free. Thank you.