Would you hand me that, please?Thank you.Hmm.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, uh, to keep one in suspense.Therefore, delay acquainting him with what he is eager to know.
Hello, and welcome to a bonus Halloween Eve episode of Stars on Suspense.And today, I'm sharing my picks for the scariest stories to ever air on radio's outstanding theater of thrills.
As with any list of personal favorites, your mileage may vary with these choices, but I think you'll find plenty here to chill your spine and to help you celebrate Halloween.First up is one of the all-time best the show ever produced.
Written by Lucille Fletcher and starring Orson Welles, it's The Hitchhiker.Now, of course, Ms.Fletcher is best known as the writer of Sorry, Wrong Number.
But for my money, her tale of a cross-country drive and a man stalked by a mysterious stranger is far creepier than that more famous story.
Then it's what I think is the all-time scariest episode of suspense, and one of the scariest shows from the golden age of radio, period.A rare detour into out-and-out horror for the show.
It's The House in Cypress Canyon, starring Robert Taylor in the tale of a young couple who discovers that their dream house is actually a nightmare.
Game show host Ralph Edwards does a dramatic turn in our third show, Ghost Hunt, an early example of a found footage, in this case found audio footage, horror story.
He plays a DJ who, for a ratings stunt, brings along his recorder as he spends the night in an infamous haunted house.
Then Cary Grant picks the wrong time and place to run out of gas in On a Country Road, where he and his wife, played by suspense MVP Kathy Lewis, are stranded in their car
just as they hear a radio report that a homicidal maniac has escaped from a nearby hospital and she's armed with a meat cleaver. To make matters worse, there's a disheveled woman trying to get into their car.
And even though she claims she's not the murderer, well, we'll have to find out what happens.And finally, the great Vincent Price stars in one that never fails to get under my skin because I can't stand rats.
And in Three Skeleton Key, Mr. Price has an entire horde of ravenous rats to deal with. He's part of a trio of lighthouse keepers who fight to keep the bloodthirsty beasts at bay after a ship carrying the critters runs aground on the rocks below.
So now turn down the lights, grab some candy corn and maybe your favorite pumpkin-flavored beverage, and enjoy this showcase of scary stories from suspense.
The Columbia Network takes pleasure in bringing you... Suspense.Suspense.Columbia's parade of outstanding thrillers produced and directed by William Spear and scored by Bernard Herrmann.
The notable melodramas from stage and screen, fiction and radio, presented each week to bring you to the edge of your chair, to keep you in suspense.Good evening.This is Orson Welles.
I'm very happy I am to be back in the United States and back on the Columbia network. even for so short a visit as this one, back with old friends like Johnny Dietz, who's tonight's director, and Bernard Herrmann.
The Mercury Theater presented tonight's radio play for the first time last year.We came right out then and hailed it as a classic of the medium.Nobody argued the point.
A lot of people asked us to do it again, so it's gratifying to get the chance now, and to find a favorite of ours in this distinguished anthology of spook shows.Personally, I've never met anybody who didn't like a good ghost story.
But I know a lot of people who think there are a lot of people who don't like a good ghost story.
For the benefit of these, at least, I go on record at the outset of this evening's entertainment with a sober assurance that although blood may be curdled on this program, none will be spilt.
There's no shooting, knifing, throttling, axing or poisoning here.No clanking chains, no cobwebs, no bony and or hairy hands appearing from secret panels or, better yet, bedroom curtains.
If it's any part of that dear old phosphorescent foolishness that people who don't like ghost stories don't like, then again, I promise you, we haven't got it.Not tonight.What we do have is a thriller.It's half as good as we think it is.
You can call it a shocker. It's already been called a real Orson Welles story.Now, frankly, I don't know what this means.
I've been on the air directing and acting in my own shows for quite a while now, and I don't suppose I've done more than half a dozen thrillers in all that time.
Honestly, I don't think even that many, but it seems I do have a reputation for the uncanny.Quite possibly, a little escapade of mine involving a couple of planets, which shall be nameless, is responsible.Doesn't really matter.
Don't think I disapprove of thrillers, I don't.A story doesn't have to appeal to the heart, it can also appeal to the spine.Sometimes you want your heart to be warmed, and sometimes you want your spine to tingle.
The tingling, it's to be hoped, will be quite audible as you listen tonight to The Hitchhiker.That's the name of our story, The Hitchhiker. I'm in an auto camp on Route 66, just west of Gallup, New Mexico.If I tell it, perhaps it'll help me.
Keep me from going... going crazy.I gotta tell this quickly.I'm not crazy now.I feel perfectly well, except that I'm running a slight temperature.My name is Ronald Adams.I'm 36 years of age. Unmarried, tall, dark, with a black mustache.
I drive a 1940 Buick, license number 6Y175189.I was born in Brooklyn.All this I know.I know that I'm at this moment perfectly sane.That it's not me who's gone mad.It's something else.Something utterly beyond my control.I'd love to speak quickly.
At any minute, the link may break.This may be the last thing I ever tell on Earth. The last night I ever see the stars.Six days ago, I left Brooklyn to drive to California.
Goodbye, son.Good luck to you, my boy.
Goodbye, Mother.Here, give me a kiss, and I'll go.
I'll come out with you to the car.
Oh, no, it's raining.Stay here at the door.Hey, what's this?Tears?I thought you'd promised me you wouldn't cry.
I know, dear.I'm sorry. But I... I do hate to see you go.
I'll be back.It'll only be on the course three months.
Oh, it isn't that.It's just the trip.Ronald, I wish you weren't driving.
Oh, mother, there you go again.People do it every day.
I know, but you'll be careful, won't you?Promise me you'll be extra careful.Don't fall asleep or drive fast or pick up any strangers on the road.
Oh, gosh.You'd think I was still 17, dear.
And why?I mean, as soon as you get to Hollywood, won't you, son?
Of course I will.Don't you worry.It's only going to happen.It's just eight days of perfectly simple driving on smooth, decent, civilized roads.With a hot dog or a hamburger stand every ten miles.I was in fine spirits.
and drive ahead of me, even the loneliness seemed like a lark.I reckoned without him.Crossing Brooklyn Bridge that morning in the rain, I saw a man leaning against the cables.He seemed to be waiting for a lift.
There were spots of fresh rain on his shoulders.He was carrying a cheap overnight bag in one hand.He was thin, nondescript, with a cap pulled down over his eyes.
I would have forgotten him completely except that just an hour later, while crossing the Pulaski Skyway over the Jersey Flats, I saw him again.At least, he looked like the same person.He was standing now with one thumb pointing west.
I couldn't figure out how he got there, but I thought probably one of those fast trucks had picked him up, beat me to the skyway and let him off.I didn't stop for him.And late that night, I saw him again.
It was on the New Pennsylvania Turnpike between Harrisburg and Pittsburgh.It's 265 miles long with a very high speed limit.I was just slowing down for one of the tunnels when I saw him, standing under an arc light by the side of the road.
I'd seen quite distinctly the back, the cap, even the spots of fresh rain scattered over his shoulders. He hallowed at me this time.
Stepped on the gas like a shot.It was a lonely country through the Alleghenies and I had no intention of stopping.Besides the coincidences or whatever it was, maybe the willies, we stopped at the next gas station.
Certainly, sir.Check your oil, sir?Nice night, isn't it?
Yes.Hasn't been raining here recently, has it?
Not a drop of rain all week.
Oh?Oh, I suppose that doesn't done your business any harm.
Oh, people drive through here all kinds of weather.Mostly business, you know. There aren't many pleasure cars out on the turnpike this season of the year.I suppose not.
What's the matter?Don't you ever see any?
Not much.If we did, it'd be a sight for sore eyes.Why?Oh, I'd be a fool who started out to hitch rides on this road.Look at it.Then you've never seen anybody?No. Maybe they'd get the lift before the turnpike starts.
I mean, you know, just before the toll house.But then it'd be a mighty long ride.Most cars wouldn't want to pick up a guy for that long a ride.And you know, this is pretty lonesome country here.Mountains and woods.
You ain't seen anybody like that, have you?Oh, no.Oh, no, not at all.I was just, uh... technical questioning.I see. Well, that'll be just $1.49 with the tax.
The thing gradually passed from my mind to sheer coincidence.I had a good night's sleep in Pittsburgh.I didn't think about the man all next day until... just outside of Zanesville, Ohio, I saw him again. It was a bright, sunshiny afternoon.
The peaceful Ohio fields, brown with the autumn stubble, lay dreaming in the golden light.I was driving slowly, drinking it in, when the road suddenly ended in a detour.In front of the barrier, he was standing.
Let me explain about his appearance before I go on. I repeat, there was nothing sinister about him.He was as drab as a mud fence.There was his attitude menacing.
He merely stood there, waiting, almost drooping a little, with a cheap overnight bag in his hand.He looked as though he'd been waiting there for hours.Then he looked up.He hailed me.He started to walk forward.
Hello?No, not just now.Sorry.
Going to California?No, not today.
The other way, going to New York.Sorry.After I got the car back on the road again, I felt like a fool.Yet the thought of picking him up, of having him sit beside me was somehow unbearable.At the same time, I felt more than ever unspeakably alone.
Hour after hour went by, fields, the towns ticked off one by one.The light changed.I knew now that I was going to see him again.And though I dreaded the sight, I caught myself searching the side of the road, waiting for him to appear.
What do you want?You sell sandwiches and pop here, don't you?
Yeah, we do in the daytime.But we're closed up now for the day.
I know, and I was wondering if you could possibly have a cup of coffee, black coffee, just... No, not this time of night, mister.
My wife's a cook.She's a fan.
Don't shut the door, please.Listen, just a minute ago... Just a minute ago, there was a man standing here right beside the stand, a suspicious-looking man.I don't mean to disturb you.
You see, I was driving along when I just happened to look, and there he was.
You've been taking a nip, that's what you've been doing.Now on your way before I call our scare boats.
I got into the car again and drove on slowly.I was beginning to hate the car.If I could have found a place to stop, to rest a little.I was in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri now.
Few resort places that were closed, only an occasional log cabin, seemingly deserted.That's all that broke the monotony of the wild, wooded landscape.I had seen him at that roadside stand.I knew I'd see him again.Maybe at the next turn of the road.
I knew that when I saw him next, I would run him down. I didn't see him.I didn't see him until late next afternoon.He'd stopped a car at a sleepy little junction just across the border into Oklahoma to let a train pass by.
When he appeared across the tracks, leaning against a telephone pole, A perfectly airless, dry day.The red clay of Oklahoma was baking under the southwestern sun.Yet there were spots of fresh rain on his shoulders.I couldn't stand that.
Without thinking, blindly, I started the car across the tracks.He didn't even look up at me.He was staring at the ground.I stepped on the gas hard, turning the wheel sharply toward him.I could hear the train in the distance.Now, I didn't care then.
What went wrong with the car?
The train was coming closer.I could hear it's bell ringing and the cry of its whistle.Still, he stood there.And now I knew that he was beckoning, beckoning me to my death. No.I frustrated him that time.I started work at last.I managed to back up.
When the train passed, he was gone.
I was all alone in the hot, dry afternoon.
After that, I knew I had to do something.I didn't know who this man was. of what he wanted of me.I only knew that from now on, I mustn't let myself alone on the road for one minute.
Uh, hello there.Like a ride?
Well, what do you think?How far are you going?
Uh, where do you want to go?
Gee! Do you mind if I take off my shoes?My dogs are killing me.Go right ahead.Gee, what a break this is.
Sure, only it's tough sometimes.You need great open spaces to get the break.
I should think it would be, though.I'll bet you get a good pickup in a fast car.If you did, you could get places faster than, say, another person in another car, couldn't you?
Well, take me for instance.Suppose I'm driving across the countryside at a nice steady clip about 45 miles an hour.Couldn't a girl like you, just standing beside the road waiting for a lift, beat me to town?
Or any town, provided she got picked up every time in a car doing from 65 to 70 miles an hour?
I don't know.What difference does it make?
No difference.It's just a crazy idea I had sitting here in the car.
Imagine spending your time in a swell car thinking of things like that.
What would you do instead?
What would I do?If I was a good-looking fella like yourself?Why, I just enjoy myself every minute of the time.I'd sit back and relax.And if I saw a good-looking girl along the side of the road... Hey, look out!Did you see him, Joanna?See who?
A man standing beside the barbed wire fence.
I didn't see anybody.There was nothing but a bunch of cows and a wire fence.No?What do you think he was doing?Trying to run into the barbed wire fence?
There was a man there, I tell you.A thin gray man with an overnight bag in his hand.And I was trying to run him down.
Run him down?You mean kill him?
You say you didn't see him back there?You sure?
As far as that's concerned... Watch for him the next time.Keep watching.Keep your eyes peeled on the road.He'll turn up again.Maybe any minute.
How does this door work?I'm getting out of here.Did you see him that time?No, I didn't see him that time.And personally, mister, I don't expect never to see him.All I want to do is go on living.I don't see how I will very long driving with you.
I'm sorry.I didn't... I... I don't know what came over me, but please don't go.So if you'll excuse me... You can't go.Listen, how would you like to go to California?I'll drive you to California.
Seeing pink elephants all the way?No, thanks.Uh-uh, thanks just the same.
Listen, please, just one minute, please.
You know what I think you need, big boy?Not a girlfriend, just a good dose of sleep.Please.There, I got it now.No, you can't go.Please, come back.
Get your hands off me.Do you hear me?
Get your hands off... She ran from me. as though I were a monster.A few minutes later, I saw a passing truck pick her up.
I knew then that I was utterly alone.It was in the heart of the great Texas prairies.There wasn't a car on the road after the truck went by.I tried to figure out what to do, how to get a hold of myself.
I could find a place to rest or even if I could sleep right here in the car for a few hours along the side of the road.
I was getting my winter overcoat out of the back seat to use as a blanket when I saw him coming toward me, emerging from the herd of moving steer.
Maybe I should have spoken to him then.Thought it out then and there.For now, he began to be everywhere.Wherever I stopped, even for a moment, for gas, for oil, for a drink of pop, a cup of coffee, sandwich, he was there.
I saw him standing outside the auto camp in Amarillo that night when I dared to slow down.I was sitting near the drinking fountain of a little camping spot just inside the border of New Mexico.
He was waiting for me outside the Navajo reservation where I stopped to check my tires.I saw him in Albuquerque when I bought 20 gallons of gas.
I was... I was afraid to stop now.I began to drive faster and faster.I was... in... in lunar landscape now.
The great arid mesa country of New Mexico. I drove through it with the indifference of a fly crawling over the face of the moon.Now he didn't even wait for me to stop.
Unless I drove at 85 miles an hour over those endless roads, he waited for me at every other mile.I'd see his figure, shadowless, flitting before me, still in the same attitude, over the cold, lifeless ground.
flitting over dried up rivers, over broken stones cast up by old glacial upheavals, flitting in that pure and cloudless air.
I was beside myself when I finally reached Gallup, New Mexico this morning.There's an auto camp here.The cold almost deserted this time of year.I went inside and asked if there was a telephone
I had the feeling that if only I could speak to someone familiar, someone I loved, I could pull myself together.
Long distance, certainly.
I'd like to put in a call to my home in Brooklyn, New York. I'm Ronald Adams.The number is Beechwood 200828.
Certainly, I will try to get it for you.Albuquerque.New York for Gallop.
Gallop, New Mexico, calling Beechwood 20828.
I read somewhere that love could banish demons. It was the middle of the morning.I knew Mother would be home.I pictured her tall and white-haired in her crisp house dress, going about her tasks.
It would be enough, I thought, just to hear the even calmness of her voice.
Will you please deposit three dollars and eighty-five cents for the first three minutes?When you have deposited a dollar and a half, will you wait until I have collected the money? All right, deposit another dollar and a half.
Will you please deposit the remaining 85 cents? Ready with Brooklyn.Go ahead, please.
This is Mrs. Adams' residence.Who is it you wish to speak to, please?
Mrs. Winnie?I don't know any Mrs. Winnie.Is this Beachwood 20828?
Where's my mother?Where's Mrs. Adams?
Mrs. Adams is not at home. She's still in the hospital.
Yes.Who is this calling, please?Is it a member of the family?
Well, what's she in the hospital for?
She's been prostrated for five days.Nervous breakdown.But who is this calling?
Nervous breakdown?Well, my mother never was nervous.
It's all taken place since the death of her oldest son, Ronald.
Death of her... Death of her oldest son, Ronald? Hey, what's this?What number is this?
This is Beechwood 20828.It's all been very sudden.He was killed just six days ago in an automobile accident on the Brooklyn Bridge.
Your three minutes are up, sir.Your three minutes are up, sir.Your three minutes are up, sir.
And so... So I'm sitting here in this deserted auto camp in... Gallup, New Mexico.I'm trying to think.Trying to get a hold of myself.Otherwise, I... I'm going to go crazy.Outside, it's night.The vast, soulless night of New Mexico.
A million stars are in the sky.
Ahead of me stretch a thousand miles of empty mezza, mountains, prairies, desert.
Somewhere among them, he's waiting for me.
Somewhere I shall know who he is and who I am. So ends the hitchhiker, and to Orson Welles our considerable thanks for his playing of the title role.Mr. Welles, help wanted.Men, women, and children.
Nature of work hard, monotonous, back-breaking labor. Hours, 75 a week minimum.Pay, few cents an hour.Added inducement, two meals a day, including several ounces of bad bread and a cup of thin soup.Don't delay, apply at once.
How'd you respond to a want ad like that, Mr. and Mrs. American Working Man and Woman?You'd laugh, wouldn't you, and throw the paper in the trash basket.Dismiss the whole advertisement as some kind of a joke, but believe me, it's no joke.
It's a simple statement of the working conditions that exist today in Nazi Germany and the conquered countries under Nazi rule.
It's also an exact statement of the working conditions that will be imposed on you and every member of your family if the Nazis win this war.You yourself personally can stop them from winning, as you know.
You don't have to give up your well-paid job to do it.You needn't have to be a soldier or a sailor or an airman or a nurse or a war worker to ensure American victory.
Uncle Sam doesn't ask plain, ordinary, hard-working citizens like you to give him anything.All he asks, all this he does ask very seriously and very urgently, is that you loan him ten cents out of every dollar you make.That's all there is to it.
Lend Uncle Sam a dime to win this war, and he'll pay you back with interest when he's won it.The easiest, most convenient way to lend him these dimes is to enroll in the payroll savings plan.
Tell your boss to deduct 10 cents from every dollar he pays you and lend it to Uncle Sam in your name.Sign up for this simple savings plan today, and when victory comes, you'll have war bonds in your pockets instead of Axis bonds on your wrists.
Suspense will be heard again two weeks from tonight.Next Wednesday night, September 9th, the Columbia Broadcasting System will present over many of these stations at 9.30 p.m.Eastern Wartime an address by W. Averill Harriman,
the United States Land-Lease Administrator in London.Mr. Harriman, as the personal representative of the President of the United States, attended the Moscow conferences between Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin.
Next Wednesday's broadcast will be Mr. Harriman's first public address since his return to this country.Suspense is produced and directed by William Speer.John Dietz was our guest director this evening.
Tonight's radio drama was written by Lucille Fletcher. The original score was by Bernard Herrmann.This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
And now, Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, Roma Wines present Suspense.
Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Robert Taylor in The House in Cypress Canyon, a suspense play produced, edited, and directed for Roma Wines by William Spear.
Suspense!Radio's outstanding theater of thrills is presented for your enjoyment by Roma Wines.That's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines.Those better tasting California wines enjoyed by more Americans than any other wine.
For friendly entertaining, for delightful dining. Yes, right now, a glass full would be very pleasant, as Roma Wines bring you Robert Taylor, star of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's Undercurrent, in a remarkable tale of suspense.
Merry Christmas, Jerry.How's the real estate business?Kind of early with your greeting, aren't you, Sam?Well, I got to get them in sometime.I may not see you again until next Christmas.
If this real estate racket gets any crazier, I'll be dead by next Christmas.I'm glad you could get up here, though, Sam.What's on your mind, Jerry?
You'll probably shoot me when you hear it, Sam, because I'm probably nuts, but... but, doggone it, you're a detective, and you're my pal, and I just had to tell somebody.You sound like it's serious.That's just it.
I don't know what it is, Sam, but... Now, listen, you know we're agents for a group of houses up in Cypress Canyon, those places that were started before the war and never got finished.Oh, yeah.
All I got in were the foundations, just concrete and a couple of beams. Well, they've been finished now.In fact, I'm putting up the for rent on the last of them today.What do you want, police protection from the mob?
Listen, Sam, this house that I'm talking about, it's got a number now, 2256.
But before, when the men went back to work on it about three months ago, well, they just started when the foreman on the job brought me a shoebox that he'd found up on a beam.
And this box had a, what do you call it, a manuscript in it, a story kind of, all written out. Well, he gave me the thing.I read it.I didn't think much about it.I put it in my desk.
But the other day, and I happened to drive by there, I saw the number on the house and what the house looked like.I thought of this manuscript.Well, I don't like it, that's all.There's something funny about it.What's funny about it?
Well, mind you, this thing was found in an unfinished house in Cypress Canyon, a house that was only just started building.All right. Listen, Sam, I want to read it to you, if you've got the time.And you'll see what I mean.Oh, I should.
Here's how it begins.To whom it may concern, my reasons for setting down on paper what follows here will be abundantly clear to anyone into whose possession it may fall.
First, let me say that I'm a very ordinary person.My name is James A. Woods.I'm 35 years old.By profession, a chemical engineer.My wife, Ellen, was a schoolteacher when I met and married her in Indiana seven years ago.
There's nothing in the past life of either one of us to suggest remotely any cause or reason for the dreadful thing that has invaded our lives.
Our married life has been in no way different from that of millions of other average, reasonably happy, and congenial families.Three months ago, I was ordered by my firm to take charge of a rather minor project in Los Angeles.Hollywood, to be exact.
The order was a sudden one.
There'd been no time to secure accommodations, and conditions being what they are, the inevitable result was that until day before yesterday, we'd been living in the cramped quarters of one of those characteristic California motels.
Needless to say, most of our spare time had been devoted to a search for something more permanent and comfortable, but the fruits of these efforts had been financially, and in every other way, a geometrical progression of discouragement.
Until last Saturday afternoon, only four days before Christmas.We were driving into town on our way to a movie when Ellen saw it.
That sign in front of that real estate office.
Don't you see what it says?For rent, furnished, two-bedroom house, close in, immediate occupancy.
Oh, Ellen, you know what a sign like that'd mean, right out in plain sight in front of a real estate office.Oh, yeah, but Jim... Either they want $600 a month or... We'll never know until we ask.
Well, if it's any good at all, there are probably 50 people fighting for it right back there now.
Well, honey, there's no harm in trying, now, is there?You really want to go back?Oh, it's probably foolish, but what can we lose? Oh, darling, come on, cheer up.How do you know?Maybe our luck's changed.
Maybe fate's gonna give us a nice new house for a Christmas present.
We're sorry to bother you, but we just happened to see that for rent sign outside.
Oh, yeah, I hung it outside just this minute.
Is... is the house available?
Why, sure, sure it is.Uh, let me introduce myself.My name is James A. Woods, and this is my wife, Ellen.How'd it do?Wow.Looks like it's fixing to rain.Yes, so it does, doesn't it? Well, it was one of those things.
The real estate agent had just been authorized to rent the place by mail that morning, and he'd hardly had time to look at it himself and put up his sign when we drove up.
It was just an ordinary little California house about halfway up Cypress Canyon, number 2256.Just an ordinary, undistinguished little house.The agent didn't know much about it.
Construction on it had been stopped by the war, and it had just been completed and furnished lately.Been vacant while somebody's estate was being settled, Now it was owned by a bank in Sacramento.
Of course, we didn't... We got this key in the mail along with the authorization to rent.Only one there is.Of course, you can have duplicates made.Seems to stick a little.Oh, no, there it is.
Doesn't sound as though that door had ever been opened.
Well, a little oil on the hinges will fix that, all right.
Now, now, here's your living room. Furniture's a little dusty, of course.You gotta expect that.It's good furniture, though, you see?Benson Brothers.Yes, uh-huh.Now, over here's a little den.Panel, you see?Radio, fireplace.
Really a very attractive little room, particularly for a man.
Now, the bedroom's off the living room here.Everything's all on one floor, you understand?Uh-huh.It's, uh, quite nice, I think.Yes.Uh-huh.You can see you get the morning sun here.There's a view of the canyon through these front windows.
You got cross ventilation.
That's about all there was to it.It wasn't the best place in the world.It was small and badly built, but what would you have done?We took it with as little inspection as that.It was the Saturday before Christmas.
And the very same evening, we were struggling up the steps from the road with suitcases and boxes and armloads of clothes and all the endless bric-a-brac that people collect and never know they have until they move.
Ellen began unpacking, and I began moving things around and taking the worst of the pictures off the wall, All the little things that everybody does when they move into a new place and try to give it something of their own.
Don't be such a sourpuss.You know, it's a roof over our heads for Christmas.That's more than we ever thought we'd get, isn't it?Now, what in the world are we gonna do with those two pictures?
Why don't we just leave them where they are?
Jim, we can't.They're too awful.
Well, all right, put them in the closet then.
I can't.Both the closets are jammed full.
No, I mean the other one in the little alcove off the den.At least there's a door there.I suppose it's a closet.
I don't know.That isn't a commentary on the housing problem, huh?A woman moving into a house without even knowing where all the closets are.Take the pictures down, will you, honey?Bring them in here.
I guess you'll have to help me with this door.I can't get it open.
Let me see it. Of course you can, silly.It's locked.Where are those keys we found on the desk?
Not this one.I'm sure this one won't work.Feels like an awful solid door for a closet.
That's one solid door in the house.
This one won't do it either. I just have to get a locksmith up here on Monday.I'll put the pictures behind the desk, okay?
Yeah.Yeah, all right.Jim, if you could just help me move this armchair, huh?
Oh, Ellen, will you let it go until tomorrow?You know what time it is?
Oh, but, honey, I'd like to get the place looking just a little bit... Yeah, but it's almost midnight.
In fact, it's exactly... What was that?Tomcat, I guess.Out in the brush somewhere.
Sounded near.I hope that doesn't go on all night.
There's not much we can do about it. Come on, Ellen, I'm dead tired.
All right, Jim, all right.
Where'd you put the toothpaste, honey?
It's right in the medicine cabinet.
Jim, we ought to get some firewood tomorrow.You know, a fire in that living room would make all the difference in the world.
Well, Monday, then.Jim, I think red curtains are what we need, don't you?
You know, just at least for the living room.Anyway, the ones in there now have just got to come down.
What do you think of red? Well, I guess it's all... Jim.
Jim, it sounded in the house.
How could it be in the house, Ellen?We've been over every inch of the house.
How could a cat or anything else be in a closet that's been locked up for over a year?
probably under the house of Wildcat or Mountain Lion or something.I hear they have them in California.
Well, neither do I like it.But there's nothing we can do about it tonight.
Well, maybe we ought to call somebody, the police or some neighbor.
Oh, don't be silly, Ellen.You act like a kid.Come on.Let's go to bed, huh?
All right.I suppose it is silly.Jimmy, did you lock the door?Yeah.
Yeah.Can I turn out the lights now?
Good night, Ellen.Sleep tight.
I don't know what time it was, perhaps an hour, perhaps only a half hour later.My mind was in that hazy borderland between sleep and a dream that's still part of consciousness.Then I was awake.Ellen, are you all right?
Did you have a nightmare or something?
Well, that didn't sound like any cat.
It seemed to be out there, Jim, in the house somewhere.
I'm going to look into this.
Come on.Where's my shotgun?
Running from under the closet door.Sticky.
Ellen, don't.Don't touch it.
I had to.Jim, it's blood.
For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Robert Taylor in The House in Cypress Canyon.Roma Wines' presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Between the acts of suspense, this is Ken Niles for Roma Wines.These days before Christmas are busy ones indeed.Yet smart hostesses everywhere find time for shopping and distinguished home entertaining later.The secret?
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And now, Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood Soundstage Robert Taylor as James A. Woods, with Kathy Lewis as his wife Ellen, in the house in Cypress Canyon. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
It cannot be too difficult to understand from the foregoing why I've taken the pains to set down in writing the events related here.To find in one's newly rented house a closet which cannot be opened is in itself certainly no great cause for alarm.
But to be awakened in the stillness of the night by unearthly cries within that house, to find oozing from under that closet door something that is unquestionably blood, that's another matter.Perhaps others might have been braver than we.
Suffice it only to say that we got out of the house in something very close to a panic, and only returned when we had the moral support of two stalwart Los Angeles policemen.You just moved in here, you say?That's right, officer.
You can see we're still unpacking.And the place has been empty right along before that?Yeah, I don't know much about that part of it.You could check all that with a real estate agent, though.
Well, where is this closet?
Oh, it's right in here, officer.And the blood, the blood is... Where?
Officer, I swear to you, there was blood on the floor less than an hour ago.I saw it.It was running out from under that door.We heard that noise, and we got up, and then we saw it.The door was locked.
Locked, huh?Well, it seems to be all right now.
Hey, you folks aren't trying to be funny, are you?
Isn't there anything in it?No, ma'am, there is not.
Look, officer, we're reputable people.You can call my firm.They'll tell you all about me.
There's nothing wrong with this closet. Walls are solid, no trap doors.You think I'm lying?I didn't say that, mister.Oh, you probably did hear some sort of a noise and you got a little panicky and... What about the blood?
It isn't there now, is it?
Now you folks just take it easy.You know, you're liable to hear all kinds of noises up in these canyons at night. You're from the East, you say?Yeah, I'm sorry, officer.Oh, that's all right, that's all right.
If you have any real trouble, call on us any time.All right.Well, good night.Good night.Good night.Hey, you ought to have this door fixed.That's enough to scare you.
Yeah, we're going to have it fixed. We didn't say much about it after that.There wasn't much that could be said.
The next day, I went down to a lot and bought a little Christmas tree and some trimmings, and we tried to pretend we were cheerful, but there was an uneasiness between us that had never been there before.Ellen seemed tired and listless.
Several times during the day, I noticed her washing her hands with a brush, scrubbing the one that had touched the blood. That night, we each took a sleeping pill and went to bed.
It was sometime after midnight when I was suddenly wide awake and staring into the darkness.In some way, I knew at once and instinctively what had awakened me.Ellen was not in her bed nor in the room.
The nameless thing I feared gripped at my heart until I could scarcely breathe. I opened the bedroom door and started through the house, putting on every light that I could find.There was not much to search, but I searched thoroughly.
The living room, the kitchen, bathroom, den, even the garage.And all the time, the dread of looking where I knew at last I must look.For I think I knew from the very first time where I'd find her.
It must have been a full minute that I stood before that closet door.Then, I opened it. She stood there rigid, her arms at her sides, the fingers extended like claws.Her hair was over her face, her eyes stared out of it.
Her lips were drawn back in a grin like an animal at bay.For a moment, I was frozen with the horror of it.I stretched out my hand.Very deliberately, she turned her head and sunk her teeth until they met into the flesh of my forearm.
I'd raised my hand to strike at her, but already she'd relaxed her hold and gone utterly limp. She would have fallen unless I'd caught her.I carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.
Strangely, at that moment, my only thought was how I might revive her.Until I saw that it was not a faint, but a sleep that she'd fallen into.Sleep as deep and heavy as though she'd been drugged.And so I left her.
But for me, that night, there was no sleep. Yes, Ellen?
What are you doing up so early?
Oh, I got a little restless.I wanted to make some coffee.
Oh.Oh.I had the most wonderful sleep.And I feel so rested.
Jim.What?What's the matter with your arm?
Honey, it's terribly swollen.Let me see it.No, it's all right, Ellen.Oh, it isn't all right.You've got to see Dr. Wesley right away.
No, now you promised me, Jim, that you'll go the first thing this morning.How'd it happen?
Why, uh, there was a dog.
Yeah, I heard him trying to chew through the screen door.I went out to chase him away, and he bit me.
You mean there was all that racket, and I didn't even wake up?
No, Ellen, you didn't even wake up.It was clear to me that Ellen knew nothing of what had transpired the night before.
I went to my office that morning and made a pretense of going over routine business, if only to restore my mind to some semblance of calm by the sight and sound of common, familiar things.Pain in my arm had become a persistent, dull throbbing
I made a late appointment with Dr. Wesley.He treated my arm with something of an arched eyebrow, and he said... Well, I've never seen anything quite like it before.
That is such a rapid onset of infection.
It was dark when I left his office.I hadn't realized it was so late. Driving home, my car seemed sluggish until I saw the needle on the dashboard and realized that I was pushing it to the utmost of its speed.
I was racing home to prevent something before it was too late, before the darkness had conspired against me.For somehow I already knew with certainty that it was the darkness and the night that I had to fear.The curves of the canyon seemed endless.
And then the cold fear leaked up inside me.My house, too, was dark. I went slowly up the stone steps in the road, looking, praying for some sign of light or life.There was none.The house was empty.Ellen was gone.
I looked with the same self-torturing thoroughness.And in that closet, first of all, knowing as I did so, there was hopeless.
And so, alone in that empty house, I waited, powerless and helpless now, deadened in thought and will, empty as the house itself, save only for the overwhelming sense of a terrible foreboding.
For some time in the early hours of the morning, I snapped on the radio, shortwave.Why, surely a minor question now, I only know that I did.
and I heard it.Car 58, car 58, go to Laurel Canyon, the 4000 block.Report that a man has been injured or attacked.Condition thought to be critical.Ambulance will follow.
That is all.I was there almost before the police, edging my way through the little crowd, staring down at the man lying there in his white uniform under the streetlight.
Yeah, the milkman, poor guy.I heard him scream, but when I got here, just like this, it was like... All right, stand back, stand back.
Please, please stand back.
Well, you again.I heard it on the radio.I lived just down the road.Yeah, yeah, I remember.Well, what happened?Well, take a look.Maybe you can tell us.He was dead.And he was lying on his back.
And his throat had been torn out, as though by the fangs of some wild animal. It is now Christmas Eve, or rather, Christmas morning, for it's a little after midnight.
I've been waiting here, here in the stillness of this empty house for nearly 24 hours, waiting for the end.Already, once tonight, I've heard that dreadful wailing cry somewhere in the hills.
I've nailed up the closet door, but that, I know, was childish and useless. My arm is horribly swollen and turning black, but that's nothing.It's another end that I foresee, as surely as other men foresee the rising of the sun.I hear the cry again.
It's nearer now.I shall leave these notes in a sealed envelope and put it in a shoebox, in the hope that someone will give credence to these dark and terrible events, if, indeed, such nameless horrors can ever yield to mortal understanding.
As for myself, I feel no longer any fear or even sorrow.Only a desire that the end and the thing that I must do may come soon.And it will be soon, I know.Yes, for there is someone at the door.
Someone at the door.What do you make of it, Sam?It's quite a yarn.But what of it?That's what I thought.Now, listen, that's not quite all of it.Clip to it's a newspaper clip.Listen.Hollywood, December the 26th.
Police reported what was apparently a case of murder and suicide in Cypress Canyon sometime in the early hours of the morning. The victims were James A. Woods, a chemical engineer, and his wife Ellen.
Preliminary investigation indicates that Mrs. Woods was killed by the blast of a shotgun in the hands of her husband, who then turned the weapon upon himself.
That she fought desperately for her life, however, was evidenced by the disorder of the room and the severe lacerations inflicted upon her husband about the neck and arms.
This is the second tragedy to be reported in Cypress Canyon within 24 hours, the other being the unexplained death of Frank Polanski, a milkman.
Well, no such murders or whatever they were ever occurred, if that's what's worrying.The clipping. You have those things printed up, you know.
No, no, it's not that, Sam.That story was found in an unfinished house in Cypress Canyon.No number, no nothing, just a framework.Uh-huh.Now that house is finished.When I drove by it today, well, that's what stopped me, Sam, because it all fits.
Now that it's finished, it is the house in the story, the same construction, the same vines and creepers on the lawn, even the same number.
So what?A guy who knows roughly what this house is gonna be like writes a yarn and loses it or something.
Did he know the place was gonna be listed for rental today, the Saturday before Christmas?
Oh, Jerry, coincidence.Two bits, you find the guy next door is a ghost story writer or something, and he's been wondering for a year what happened to that thing he wrote.Okay.Okay, coincidence.Well, I-I'm sorry I bothered you, sir.Don't be silly.
I liked it.It's a good yarn.Is that the, uh, for rent sign you were talking about?
Yeah, I'm gonna put it up outside now.Uh-huh. Well, so long, Jerry, and Merry Christmas again.Well, thanks, Sam.I guess I was kind of silly all right.
Listen, when a guy named, whatever it is, Woods, with a wife named Ellen, comes in to rent that place from you, then you can start worrying.Yeah.Well, so long, Sam.So long, Jerry.Come in.
Oh, we're sorry to bother you, but we just happened to see that for-rent sign outside.Yeah, I hung it out just this minute.
Is... is the house available?
Oh, sure, sure it is.Let me introduce myself.My name is James A. Woods, and this is my wife, Ellen.How do?Wow.Looks like it's fixing to... Yes, it does, doesn't it?
Suspense.Presented by Roma Wines.R-O-M-A.Roma Wines.Selected for your pleasure from the world's greatest reserves of fine wines.
Tonight's show marks the third birthday of suspense on the air, and this is Ken Niles asking our star of the evening, Robert Taylor, to help us celebrate.Why didn't you tell me before, Ken?If I'd only known, I'd have baked a cake.
Well, Bob, all suspense parties are surprise parties.As an old hand on suspense, you know that in our plays, the tables are usually turned on the star.So tonight, although it's our birthday, we're going to give you a present.
Here it is, a gift basket of Grand Estate California wines from Roma, America's greatest vintner, to our distinguished anniversary guest, Robert Taylor.Thanks, Ken.You turn a nice table.
And you can set a nice table with Grand Estate Burgundy in your basket, Bob.For Grand Estate Burgundy means rare dining pleasure, adds memorable distinction to holiday dinner.
Even everyday meals are outstanding in taste when Grand Estate Burgundy is served. Yes, all Grand Estate wines presented by Roma are limited bottlings of outstanding taste excellence.That I know about Grand Estate wines, Ken.
But did you know that for Grand Estate wines, Roma selects only the choicest grapes?Then the ancient skill of Roma master vintners, necessary time, and America's finest winemaking resources guide the cuvee of this grape treasure to rich taste luxury.
That's why discriminating wine users everywhere look to grand estate wines as the crowning achievement of Wittner's skill.Reason enough.And now, Ken, who's all set to star on suspense next Thursday?
It's that very wonderful actress and wonderful girl, Miss Susan Peters.Susan will appear as a young lady in straightened circumstances,
who finds herself mistaken for a very rich young lady and who is forced into continuing the deception with murder as a result.
I'll certainly make it a point to listen.And before I go, I'd like to thank this really great company of actors who have played with me tonight, and particularly Kathy Lewis, who played Ellen.
Thank you, Bob.Tonight's original suspense play was written by Robert L. Richards.Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Miss Susan Peters as star of Suspense.
Produced by William Speer for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
Now, Autolight and its 60,000 dealers and service stations present... Suspense!
Tonight, Autolight brings you Mr. Ralph Edwards in... Ghost Hunt.A suspense play.Produced and directed by Anton M. Leder.
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So folks, see your Autolite dealer and have him replace old, worn out, narrow gap spark plugs with a set of the new Autolite resistor spark plugs.Remember, you're always right with Autolite.
And also remember the Autolite Suspense Show is now on television.Every Tuesday night in many parts of the country.
And now, Autolight presents Ralph Edwards in a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Yeah, didn't that leave you high, huh?Left me feeling treetop tall.That was Louis Armstrong's I Can't Give You Anything But Love. And that's all we have time for on the Hot and Mellow Hour tonight.
Yes, yes, yes, this is Smiley Smith, your favorite disc jockey, I hope, I hope, booting the Hot and Mellow Hour home for this evening.I'll be back again tomorrow night, minus the music, but with a little surprise for you.
Tomorrow night, Friday night, as you know, is stunt night here at station WXP.And have I got a stunt for you.
Last week, if you remember, I planted my wire recorder in the steam room at a ladies' Turkish bath and let you listen in on the playback, remember? Well, tonight, as soon as I leave the studio, do you know where I'm going?
Your friend Smiley is going to spend the night in a haunted house on a spook hunt.You heard me.A spook hunt in a haunted house.
I'm bringing my little old wire recorder along with me, and if you tune in tomorrow evening at this time, you'll learn what it's like to spend a night in a haunted house.Ain't that something?Yeah.A real haunted house.No kidding.
Four people are known to have committed suicide there.So tune in tomorrow night and share a real thrill with your old pal Smiley, I must be crazy, Smith.Good night.
Care for a cigar, Mr. Thorpe?I got some cigars in the dice there.No.Well, no reason for you to carry a chip on your shoulder, Mr. Thorpe.Oh, really?Well, I don't like this fool stunt.Well, I don't see it as a fool stunt at all.I really don't.
I think it's the only way you're gonna unload this house.Ordinary selling methods won't work in a case like this.I don't forget the reputation saddling this house.Four suicides since 1939.You know what people call it?The death trap.Yes.
It's a lot of nonsense.Sure, but try to convince people of that.Anyway, when this disc jockey offered me this chance to kill all the rumors about the death trap... about the property, I just naturally jumped and took him up at it.
Especially since it don't cost a cent.You sure about that? I'm not liable for a penny.Not a cent.We're doing him a favor, letting him use the place.He said, thank me for the chance last night when I drove him out here.
So one hand washes the other, as the feller says.He got a chance to pull off a stunt.The wire recording will prove the people the property is a number one and we increase the chance of selling the place.Well, as long as it doesn't cost me anything.
Not a thing.He's using his own recorder and I'm paying for the rental of a couple of walkie talkies he hooked up to.Well, what about this Reed, does he charge anything?He comes gratis, too.Dr. Reed is a, whatchamacallit, a psychic investigator.
Belongs to a couple of societies that do nothing but hunt ghosts.He showed me articles he's written about it in a magazine.Well, here's the house.Yeah, looks real nice in the sunshine, don't it?Yeah, man, smell that sea breeze.
You don't have to sell me.Well, let them know we're here. Yeah, probably asleep up all night and everything.Why don't they come out?You think they've gone?I told them last night I'd pick them up around 11.
Smith!Smith!Hey, Smiley!Dr. Reed!
Yeah, fast asleep, I guess.We better go and wake him up. Of course, they may have taken the bus back to town.Oh, no, no.It's a two-mile hike to the main highway.
Hey, Smiley.Where are you?Wake up.You don't suppose... Do you?Oh, no, no.
What's that, that clicking noise from in there?
Well, it's his wire recorder.He left it running.These machines cost a lot of money.Doesn't he care if he uses up his batteries?Well, where is he?And where's this Reed?Maybe they're upstairs.Uh, Smith?Hey, anybody home?
They must have walked to the highway and taken the bus.Well, you wouldn't have left these machines.Well, where are they then?
No, no, no.Don't get excited, Mr. Thorpe.Don't tell me not to get excited.
If something's happened to them in my house, I'm liable.
You try this side.I'll try that.All right.Smith.Hey, Smiley.Smith.Smith.Oh.McDonald, come here.What?What is... Oh. No.
No, no, don't touch him, Mr. Thorpe.You'll get your hands all... Look.Blood.Is he dead?I can still feel his pulse.We better get him to the hospital fast. Care for a cigar, Mr. Thorpe?No, no, thanks.Why not try to relax?
The nurse said Reed would be all right as soon as he's had a blood transfusion.You told the radio station to be sure and call us as soon as they had any word about Smith?Yes, I told them.Why don't you sit down?
No, I'm all at sixes and sevens.What do you suppose happened out there last night?
We're gonna know in just a second, just as soon as I can get this recorder set up.
You don't suppose Smith and Reed got into a fight, do you?
Yeah, there.Huh?A fight?I don't think so. Well, what's wrong?Won't it work?Yeah, it works.Take it easy.
Testing, one, two, three.Testing, one, two, three.Testing, one, two, three.All set, Dr. Reed?Mr. McDonald, eh?Okay, here we go.This is Smiley Smith speaking.Smiley Smith, the ghost hunter.
I don't know whether to hope this will turn out to be a success for the sake of the program or a failure for my own sake.Anyway, all the preparations have been made now and it's up to the spooks. I better tell you where we are.
Right now, we're standing on the lawn of a house about 12 miles above Malibu Beach.The ocean is 100 feet away, straight down.The house is perched on a cliff, and there's a sheer drop of about 100 feet right into the old Pacific.
Maybe you can hear the surf pounding.I'll turn up the volume.You hear it? I'm going to have you meet two gentlemen who are here with me.Incidentally, we're the only people around for miles and miles.
First, I'd like you to meet Dr. Clarence Reed of the British and American Psychical Research Guild.Dr. Reed is a famous investigator of psychic phenomena, and I'm very honored to be associated with him on this ghost hunt.
He's smiling in an embarrassed sort of way.You're much too kind, Mr. Smith.Dr. Reed has conducted experiments in this field with such great believers in spiritualism as Oliver Lodge and Arthur Conan Doyle. He looks a bit like Santa Claus.
He's short and stocky.You don't object, do you, Dr. Reed?No, no, no, indeed.And he has a magnificent white beard, a truly great beaver.Dr. Reed is so enthusiastic about ghost hunting that he got out of a sick bed this evening to be with us.Excuse me.
My lungs.I was gassed in the First World War.
Anyway, Dr. Reed and I are here on the lawn looking at the house.Can't see much.It's around, oh, 11 p.m.now. Seems to be a rambling sort of house, two stories high.Since it was built, there have been four suicides here, is that right?
Into the mic, please.Four suicides since 1939.I better tell them who you are so they won't think you're a ghost.Standing with the doc and me is a real estate agent, Mr. Charles McDonald.
He handles this property and he can tell you a lot more about it than I can.
Well, the house was built by a man named Marcus, Toby Marcus, an orange grower.Built the house as a wedding present for his wife. Month after they moved in, she took her own life.On the day of her funeral, he committed suicide the same way.
There have been two other cases since then, and I... Did they all jump into the ocean?Yeah, all four of them, right over there.The last one was actually seen doing it, about three years ago.
He was seen running like all get-up, the edge of the cliff, and he was shouting and laughing and yelling as though there was people at his side running right along with him.You're kidding?No, it's fact.
He was laughing and yelling and running, and when he got to the edge, right over there, he jumped and never came above water.
As good an argument against cold baths as ever I've heard.
Since then, people just refuse to live in this house.Silly, I call it.Anyway, if you and Dr. Reed find any sign of a spook, I'll advise the owner to pull the house down and rebuild.
But if you don't find anything, I'm hoping this will convince folks that here's a real buy.Okay, Mr. Smith, you and the doctor are on your own. I'll be by in the morning to pick you up around 11.
Goodbye, Mr. McDonald.I hope there's something left for you to pick up in the morning.Well, it's almost pitch black, folks, and I guess Dr. Eden and I ought to begin.I don't believe in ghosts, never have, but what I say is this.
If you're dead set on looking for them, this is a dandy place to do it.So long!Mr. McDonald just checked out, and then there were two.Well, three. Oh, my dog, yeah.Folks, I have my dog Jeff with me.
He's a wire-haired terrier, three years of age, and he can talk.Yeah, say hello, Jeff.Come on, Jeff, say hello.Come on.Well, anyway, he's a wire-haired terrier, and he's three years old.Shall we go inside now, Dr. Reed?I was about to suggest it.
Now, how do we hunt ghosts, Doctor?
How do we do it, huh?We don't really hunt them.If there should be any in the house, they will come to us.How cozy.And please, not ghosts.Do not refer to them as ghosts. We know them as apparitions.
I'll remember.I have no desire to hurt their feelings.Where ghosts are concerned, I say live and let live.Well, we've opened the front door now.Maybe you heard the hinge squeak a little.Now we're standing here looking in.Can't see much.
Smells sort of musty and damp.What's the matter, Jeff?What's the matter, boy?Jeff.Oh, come on now.Come on. My dog seems to object to entering this house.He has all four feet braced and he's straining against the leash.
Perhaps he senses something we don't.
Like apparitions, maybe?Perhaps.It's not unusual.Animals lack the veneer of sophistication we humans possess and are more sensitive to such ammunition.
Yeah, come on, Jeff.Now stop this nonsense.He probably smells a mouse or rat or something.Come on, Jeff.We're going in whether you like it or not.
There's a short entrance hall, and over there at the end of it is a flight of stairs leading to the second floor.Jeff!And over here at the left is what seems to be a large reception room.We're entering this large room now.
There are windows over there, French windows, and through them I can see the ocean.The electricity hasn't been turned on, so all I have to see by is a flashlight.Not a very powerful one at that.Dr. Reed is now adjusting his walkie-talkie.
It's hooked up to my recorder so that he can cut in while he's hunting and tell us what he's found. Here's a few words from Doc before he sets forth on his investigation through the house.
Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Smith has introduced me as a ghost hunter.He spoke, I think, in a spirit of skepticism and levity.I'd like to assure you all that my purposes here are serious.
I have spent my entire life seeking reliable proof of the appearances of apparitions.
Have you ever seen any, ever?
I have seen phenomena which lead me to believe in the possibility of their existence, although I have never seen any.I account myself sensitive to the evidence of their existence.This house, for example, affects me profoundly.
It doesn't seem to affect you in the same way.
I'm not too happy about all this, if that's what you mean.
You are not psychic, and therefore not sensitive to these matters as I am.I imagine the question in the minds of those of you listening to us is, Shall we find apparitions?I don't know, but I feel they are here and that they are evil.I sense danger.
Dr. Reed's leaving the room now to make a tour of the house.First thing I'm going to do is open the windows and let some fresh air in.It feels better already.Cooler anyway.I know that... Out! Oh, a bat, a bat just flew into the room.
I think it's a bat, not a bird.I didn't actually see it, just its shadow as it fanned my face.There it is again, it touched me as it passed.Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, come back here!
Jeff, you fool dog, come back here!Dr. Reed?Dr. Reed?Dr. Reed!
For suspense, Autolite is bringing you Mr. Ralph Edwards in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspend.
I don't know, snap out of it.Oh, I'm reading a letter about the new wide-gap auto-light resistor spark plugs, Hap.It's from Mrs. Clark Perry right here in Hollywood.She says, our 1948 station wagon has given constant trouble.
Finally, the garage man said all the difficulty was spark plugs, and he installed a set of auto-light resistor spark plugs.Now the car runs beautifully.The very first time my husband has been really pleased.Well, smart garage man.
Smart people to take his advice.
Hap, you know, as more and more people learn about wide-gap autolight resistor spark plugs, and how they make an engine idle smoother, give better performance on leaner gas mixtures, actually save on gas, why, then, more people will replace old, worn-out, narrow-gap spark plugs with sensational new wide-gap autolight resistor spark plugs.
Any more letters like that, Harlow?Plenty, Hap, plenty.Why, here's another one from New York City.Oh, read it to me later, Harlow.We haven't time because here's suspense.
And now, Autolight brings back to our Hollywood soundstage, Ralph Edwards as Smiley Smith in Ghost Hunt.A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Jeff!Jeff!Jeff, come back here!Jeff, you fool dog, come back here!Dr. Reed!Dr. Reed!Dr. Reed!
Reed speaking.What is it, Smith?
Jeff has run off.My dog, he jumped through the window and ran off.
Oh, so?I told you he said something about this house, didn't I?
Yeah, you want to come and see if you can determine what it was exactly that set him off?
Soon.I am making my way slowly up the stairs toward the second floor now.I'm halfway up.I'll be down with you soon.
Folks, my dog's run away.You probably heard him howling.He jumped through the window and took off.Never did anything like that before.Frightened by the bat, I guess. Personally, alone here in this big room, I can understand how he must have felt.
This isn't a cheerful spot by any means.I may not be psychic, but I sure have a feeling this house doesn't want us here.
Read again.Excuse me.I have something of great interest to report.I'm now standing in an alcove on the second floor, trying to recover my breath.As I reached the head of the stairs, I felt what I think is a definite psychic manifestation.
I felt suddenly as though I had been punched in the solar plexus.That's the only way I can describe it.At the same time, I began to perspire. My head is still swimming slightly, and I have difficulty in swallowing.
My pulse rate is around 110 in a minute.The sense of evil is very strong.I feel very, what shall I say, profoundly depressed.
No, I prefer to remain up here alone.The presence of a disbeliever such as you might interfere with my investigation.
Folks, I'd like you to get a picture of what it's like here.It's very quiet, for one thing. I've never been in such a quiet place, and it's pretty dark.No light except my flashlight.Tell you what, you go now and douse all the lights you have on.
Go ahead, put out the lights, and that'll give you a clearer feeling of how it is here with me.Go ahead, put out the lights.Hey, did you hear that?Real estate agent told me I'd probably hear rats and mice in the walls.I can certainly hear them now.
Even you can hear them, I think.
It's as though... Dr. Leach speaking. I've been working my way toward the front room, the one directly above the one in which Mr. Smith is now.The vibrations have become stronger and more and more pronounced as I approach it.
I think I am on the verge of an important discovery.
Important discovery.Did you get that?Now I can hear Dr. Reed moving about in the room above.I don't suppose you can.Have a try anyway.Hear him?I hope he finishes his investigation soon because Quite frankly, I'd like to get out of here.
I can well imagine people becoming unhinged in this place.Right now, I find myself pretty jumpy.I'm not being very brave, am I?It's being alone in this room down here, the desert, this darned old house.
It's a very, I mean, you know, the atmosphere, it's so very... I wish only to make this hurried report before continuing with the investigation in this room.
I have carefully sounded out all the parts in this room and the emanations are most strong from what appears to be a closet. before which I am now standing.
As soon as I open the door to this closet, I will have, I think, a thing of great interest to communicate.I find no key to the lock, and so I will attempt to remove the hinges with my penknife, and I will tell you what I find when I open it.
I'll tell you what it would cost to get me to open that door.In the basement at Fort... There's that bat again.It seems to like me the way it... Each time it passes, it touches my face or my neck with its wings.Smelly things, bats.
I don't suppose they bathe very often, if at all.
I wonder how... Get away, you bat!
That bat will be the death of me. It's like a jingle, isn't it?Battle be the death of me, the death of me, the death of me.Battle be the death of me.It isn't far from London.No, that isn't the way it goes.
It's come down to Q in lilac time, in lilac time, in lilac time.Come down to Q in lilac time.It isn't far.I haven't thought of that since I was a kid in grammar school.Gee, I had a lonely childhood when you come right down to it.
I mean, well, that's my affair, isn't it?Yes, it is.It certainly is.
I have succeeded in removing the hinges to the door, and I find inside it is not a closet, but much larger.It is, I think, a dressing room.I have not yet been inside, but I am about to enter.
What was I talking about?Oh, yeah, bats.Well, the bat flying back and forth in this room... Did you hear that?Did you hear it?Dr. Reed must have knocked something over in the dressing room.A chair, a chair, yeah, a heavy chair by the sound of it.
The chair, whatever it was, must have fallen right over my head.That's the way it sounded. I can see a small stain forming right on the ceiling, right over my head.Something ran across my foot just then.A rat, I think it was.I've always hated rats.
Most people do, of course.That stain up there bothers me.It's gotten so big so soon.I think I'll take a chance and bother Reed and ask him what it is.Dr. Reed.Reed, can you hear me?Are you all right?Hello? Didn't answer.
I think he's just a little bit deaf.I think so.What do you suppose he's found, huh?I'm afraid this is rather dull for you listeners.I'm not finding it so, of course.There.I heard him cough.Did you hear that cough? Hope he's all right.
He got out of a sick bed to come here this evening, you know.He was gassed in the First World War, and this place is beginning to get on my nerves a wee bit, just a teensy-weensy bit.
Reed speaking, I... Hello?
He switched off. That's the bad cough he's got.I feel so lonely.Been alone so much in my life.Not so much now, of course, but when I was younger, I was alone so much of the time.
You know, struggling to get ahead, living in a hall bedroom, wondering where my next meal is coming from.I get the blues just remembering it.Seem sad, young people having to spend so much time alone.Sad for old people, too, of course.
I'm saying of course a lot.Of course I am.Hey, that stain on the ceiling, it's grown amazingly. It's actually beginning to drip.I mean, form bubbles.They'll start dropping soon.Colored bubbles, they seem to be.
Odd-shaped stain, like a body lying on its back with its arms stretched out.It's tearful.I'll certainly advise Mr. McDonald to have this place pulled down. I'll go upstairs in a minute or two to see how Dr. Reed's making out.
You know, listeners, I really believe I'd go completely crazy if I had to stay here much longer.It wears you down.That's exactly what it does.It wears you down.It's so close and musty in here.I feel sort of trapped.I don't know why I said that.
That's what they call this place, you know, the death trap.There, what did I tell you?That stain started to drip drops, drip drops, drip drops, drip drops.I'll catch the next one with my hand.Let's go.Reed?Dr. Reed? I'm going upstairs now, listeners.
I'm afraid something has happened to Dr. Reed.I'm not kidding.I mean, this is on the level.Which room could it be now?Right?No, right, right.This is it, I think.Oh, evening, gentlemen.And madam, I'm so glad to see you.
I was just aching to see somebody, anybody.I've been so lonely down there.What have you done with the doctor, huh?I know, I know he's been hurt.See the color of the bubble on my hand?What have you done with him? Make way, please, gentlemen, make way.
Well, this isn't the funniest darn thing.This can't be Dr. Reed lying here.He didn't have a red beard.Don't crowd me, gentlemen.Don't crowd me, please.Huh?You want me to go where with you?You want me to do what?Speak up, gentlemen.
To the cliffs, down to the cliffs. You mean right now?Well, all right, if you'll come with me.I don't want to be alone anymore.You will come with me?
All of you?All four of you?You too, ma'am?Oh, good.Come on, then.To the cliffs.To the cliffs.To the cliffs.To the cliffs.
He jumped over the cliff.He jumped over the cliff.McDonald, he jumped over.
Mr. McDonald, Mr. Thorpe, you may come in to see Dr. Reed now.
Dr. Reed is conscious.You may see him now.
Just for a few minutes.In here.
Come in.Come in, gentlemen.How are you, Dr. Reed?We've been waiting to see you.Yes.And I must apologize, gentlemen.I had a most unfortunate accident.Hemorrhage.
No, gentlemen.Hemorrhage?Dr. Reed, what happened in that house?What happened to Smith?We've just been listening to a playback of the recordings you made out there.Smith?Isn't he with you?
We've just heard the recording, Dr. Reed.Smith jumped over the cliff into the ocean.Oh, that poor boy.Dr. Reed, will you please tell us what happened?We heard on the recording there were Ghosts in that house.Ghosts?I didn't see any ghosts.
But Smith, what about him?If he went over the cliff, it was fear that drove him over.Gentlemen, I didn't see any ghosts.As for that unfortunate young man, who can say now what he saw or thought he saw?
Thank you, Ralph Edwards, for displaying your versatility by appearing as guest star on Suspense. Say, Harlow, that Edwards does everything.
Uh-uh, half.No, does.Don't use that word on our Autolite show.
Oh, come now, Harlow.I can make you use that word, as you call it.How?Now, don't you say that Autolite resistor spark plugs make your car engine idle smoother?Yes, but... And your car gives better performance on leaner gas mixtures.Saves gas.
I mean, does.Aren't we devils?Ralph, you tricked me.
Well, anyhow, it does my heart good to tell people that Autolite resistor spark plugs are ignition engineered by Autolite, which makes more than 400 products for cars, trucks, airplanes, and boats in 28 plants from coast to coast.
Autolite also makes complete electrical systems for many makes of America's finest cars.Batteries, spark plugs, generators, starting motors, spark plug wire, battery cable, coils, distributors, all ignition engineered to fit together perfectly
Work together perfectly because they're a perfect team.The lifeline of your car.So folks, don't accept electrical parts that are supposed to be as good.Remember, you're right with Autolite.
And now here again is Ralph Edwards.I want to thank Tony Leder and his great cast of actors for helping to make my appearance on suspense a very pleasant consequence.
Like all of you, I'm a great Suspense fan and I'm looking forward to next week when radio's outstanding theater of thrills brings you Joseph Cotton in The Day I Died.Another gripping study in Suspense.
Tonight's Suspense play was adapted for radio by Walter Newman from an original story by H.R.Wakefield with music composed by Lucian Morawieck and conducted by Lud Bluskin.The entire production was under the direction of Anton M. Leder.
Make it a point to listen next Thursday to Suspense, radio's outstanding theater of thrills.Remember next Thursday, same time here, Joseph Cotton in The Day I Died.
You can buy autolight resistor spark plugs, autolight stay-full batteries, autolight electrical parts at your neighborhood autolight dealers.Switch to autolight.Good night.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
Autolite and its 96,000 dealers present Suspense.Tonight, Autolite brings you On a Country Road, a suspense play starring Mr. Cary Grant.
Relax, David.There's no hurry to get home.
Who can relax in this mess of traffic?There must be a wreck or something up ahead.
If this keeps up, we'll get caught in the rain.
Yeah, it looks like a big storm building up, too.Hey, remember that shortcut?
Well, the little tarred road that goes across through Center Marches and comes out on the other highway.
The one we took last summer?
Yeah.I'll turn off there and duck this pile up.I'd like to get as far as possible before that storm hits.
Why don't you pull out your hand?Don't get mad.
He cut right in front of me trying to turn into that gas station.
Now there.Sounds like a woman.
Turn it up a bit.A middle-aged woman described as dangerous and insane. She escaped this morning from Rescue Mental Hospital after fatally butchering a doctor, a nurse and a ward attendant with a meat cleaver.
This is the same Nellie Goller who a year ago murdered three persons on a Brooklyn street.My mother-in-law.
At least we aren't the only crazy people on Long Island.
Why did you change it?I don't want to listen anymore.Let's get home quickly, David. I don't like being out here with that woman running loose.
Uh-oh.Here's the storm.Roll up the windows.
In just a moment, Mr. Cary Grant in the first act of On a Country Road. Amazing, Wilcox.Amazing.What's so amazing, Senator?Your victory in the election.My candidate's victory, Senator.The famous auto light stay full battery.
The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use. Why, everybody voted for the Autolite Stay-Full Battery.You had plenty in reserve, Wilcox.Reserve?
Why, the Autolite Stay-Full Battery has over three times the liquid reserve of batteries without stay-full features.Didn't you campaign with fiberglass retaining mats?
Sure did, Senator, because every positive plate of the Autolite Stay-Full Battery is protected with a fiberglass retaining mat to prevent shedding and flaking. and keep the power-producing materials in place.
Why your candidate is in for life, Wilcox?
A longer life, Senator, because the Autolite Stay-Full battery gives 70% longer life as proved by tests conducted according to SAE minimum life cycle standards.
So friends, get acquainted with the Autolite Stay-Full battery, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use.See your neighborhood Autolite battery dealer now. And remember, you're always right with Autolite.
And now with On a Country Road and the performance of Mr. Cary Grant, Autolite hopes once again to keep you in suspense.
Why don't they put her to sleep instead of just locking her up where she can escape and kill more people?
That woman they were talking about on the radio.
She can't help what she does.She's sick.
What good does that do the people who get chopped up with a meat cleaver?
I don't know.The laws were made before the doctors knew very much about the human mind.
I can see what it is.There's a roadblock up ahead.
I don't know.Cops all over the road.
David, I'll bet they're looking for that crazy woman.
Just a check up, folks.Anything in the back seat?Only the blanket and the lunch box.
Yes, ma'am.Seen any hitchhikers?No, just traffic.OK, move right along, please.
Are you looking for the crazy woman?
What are you doing?Listen.
All residents and motorists on Long Island are warned to be on the alert for the escaped insane woman who is somewhere on the island.She is described as tall, broad-shouldered, gray-haired, and rather heavy.She may still be armed with the cleaver.
One hundred men are searching the area, and they're prepared to shoot on sight. Here's another bulletin on the case which just came in.Just a few minutes ago, the decapitated bodies of an elderly man and woman were found... Now, here's the shortcut.
We haven't found her yet.This will get us out of that traffic.I repeat that.The bodies of an elderly couple have just been found in their car near Centre Morridges on a lonely, tarred road.
Police are certain they were killed by Nellie Gawler, the insane woman now at large.Residents of the area are warned not to open their doors to strangers.Motorists are cautioned to stay off lonely roads and not to pick up any hitchhikers.
All persons are asked to be on the lookout for this woman.Here is her description again.They haven't caught her yet.
Better turn that off, darling.
I thought you wanted to hear it.
That's enough of it.This shortcut will save us a lot of time.
You turned off the highway.
Sure, I told you when I did it.We've come over a mile already.Saves us a lot of time.
David, didn't you hear what the radio said about staying off lonely roads?
We only have to go across the other highway.It won't take long.
Of course.We go past Center Marches, then take the left road and come out right by the highway bridge.
Center Marches is where she just killed those two people.Oh, no, no, no.
What can happen to us while we're driving?Besides, the whole island is full of men looking for this lunatic.They'll catch him.It's just the storm.Come on, quiet down.You're jumping.
The gas gauge says empty.
There's still a couple of gallons left when it points to empty.
How long has it said empty?
Don't know.I'll get gas when we get across to the other highway.
Relax, honey.Rain and wind always make you nervous as a cat.
I wish we'd stayed on the highway.
If I'd known you'd act like this, I would have.
It's not mine either.I'm having trouble enough just trying to see through this storm.David.
Driving through these burned-out woods in this kind of weather is enough to give anyone the willies.
Oh, goodness, it got dark so fast.I can hardly see ahead, even in the headlights.
David, the crazy woman could be around here.
I'm not picking up anyone.I just want to know where I am.
Don't get out of the car.
I'm not.Calm down.Let's see.The center march is that way. Now, we'll take this road.
Center marches.This must be the road where she killed those people.
Sorry.I'm so jumpy.Turn on the radio.
Oh, this is a desolate place.
We haven't even passed a house yet.Miles of woods on both sides of us.
It's so dark, we couldn't have seen one if it were there.This rain seems to be getting worse.
David, I'm just sure this is the road where that woman killed those two people.
Oh, now, stop that, Dorothy.
That's why the police had a roadblock by this road.That crazy woman might be anyplace in these woods.
But not necessarily where we are. Oh.David, what's the matter?Oh, that's fine.What a place to run out of gas.
Oh, no!David, you mean we're stuck here?
I'm afraid so, for the time being, anyway.I'm sorry, dear.
That crazy woman is in the woods.
David, quick.Turn off your headlights.
Why?Did you hear something?
David, I don't know. I don't know, but I'm scared.
I guess I should have got gas.
Oh, turn off the headlights, please.Why?She'll see us if you don't.
We won't see her if I do.
Please, David, turn them off.
Oh, now, listen, Dorothy.Don't let this silly thing get the better of you.
Oh, just look at the headlights poking into darkness and nothing but wet bushes and trees, rain falling.
Oh, all right.There, now they're off.You feel better sitting in the dark?
Only the thunder and lightning would stop.And this rain.
Look, Garthie, there's no sense sitting here all night.It's only a few minutes past 10 o'clock. I'm going to walk up the road a bit.There might be a house or something.
You're not going to leave me here.I won't let you go.
Dorothy, we can't sit here in the middle of nowhere for the rest of the night.
We're safer here than out there.David, she's probably hiding in the woods.She's just waiting for a chance to kill us.
Oh, come on, Dorothy.Why should she be right where we run out of gas?
Why can't she be here?Please stay in the car.
Lock the doors from the inside.
Now she can't get in here.
Oh, don't be mad at me, David.
I'm so scared.Well, if she's out there, she can easily smash the windows.
Oh, don't scare me anymore.I know I'm acting silly.I can't help it.
Oh, no.Come.Let me put my arm around you.There.Oh, David.Okay.Put your head on my shoulder.
Forgive me, David.Go ahead and cry.Go on.
It'll make you feel better.
Isn't there some popular music?
We're now in search for the escaped insane woman who has killed five persons since fleeing from a Long Island mental hospital.Rain and darkness are hampering the search.Over 100 police are combing the wooded area near Center Moriches.
It was near there that an elderly couple were butchered on a lonely, tarred road.In making her escape this morning, the madwoman killed a doctor, nurse, and... Let's leave it out for a while, huh?
So quiet and lonely here.Wish it were morning.
Look, Dorothy, I'll run up the road.There might be a house.
What?I don't hear anything.
No, I can't... It's a dog.A little dog barking.
Well, I guess it's only a lost dog.Maybe there's a house nearby.
Oh, David!She's out there!Something hit the back of the car.It's her!
Is the door locked on your side?
Yes, yes.Well, what if she breaks the windows?She's got a cleaver.
In that flash of lightning, I saw somebody!Is it the crazy woman?I can't tell.She's lying on the road.Can you see her?Is she still there?
It's too dark to see.Have to wait for the lightning.
I saw her!She's getting up now!
She'll kill us!She'll kill us!Calm down.What is she doing?I don't know.
She must have been running.She didn't see the car and ran right into it.
She's at the window!Right next to you!
Oh, my Lord!Look at her!Get away from that window!David, she's trying to get in the car!Look at that face!And her hair! Go away!
I'm not crazy!The crazy woman is after me!David, don't let her in.Let me in!
You're scaring her.David!Go away!Go away!We've got a gun!We'll shoot!It worked.She's staring at us.I'm warning you!I'll shoot!
David, she's coming back!Please, don't leave me out here!Please!
That woman will kill me!Please!
David, take your pipe.Hold it like a gun.It'll look like a gun.
Where is it?Oh, it's in the club compartment.Here it is.Look!I've got a gun!I'm gonna shoot!She's backing away.Keep going before I start shooting!
David, she's gone.She disappeared.
We can't get out now. All we can do is sit here all night and wait for help.
Can you see her?Where'd she go?
I don't know.She's out there, though.Probably planning on how to get in this car.
David, what are we gonna do?She's the one I know.
She didn't have a cleaver.
She must have dropped it when she ran into the car.Her face was all twisted with hair hanging down.
She's back there, looking for the cleaver now.She'll kill us.
She'll kill us.Stop it!Stop it!
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Cary Grant with Kathy Lewis and Jeanette Nolan in On a Country Road.Tonight's production in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Hey, Wilcox, what was your platform?
Why, the Autolite StayFull battery, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use.Go on, Wilcox.Well, we pointed out that the Autolite StayFull has over three times the liquid reserve of batteries without StayFull features.
Amazing.Ah, but that's not all, Senator, because we pointed out, too, that the Autolite StayFull gives longer life, 70% longer life, in fact. as proved by tests conducted according to SAE minimum life cycle standards.
Then there's fiberglass retaining mats protecting every positive plate to prevent shedding and flaking and to give the auto light stay full scintillating superiority.How is your plurality, Wilcox?Sensational, Senator.We got all but one vote.
Why, that's positively preposterous.Sure is, Senator, because everybody's heard of the auto light stay full battery. The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use.So see your neighborhood Autolite battery dealer.
And remember, you're always right with Autolite.
And now Autolite brings back to our Hollywood soundstage Mr. Cary Grant in Elliot Lewis's production of On a Country Road.A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
She broke the window.David, she broke the window.
Get away from there.Stay out of the car.
I'm coming in.I can't stand it out here.
Now, stay out of the car.I warn you.
I've got a gun.You wouldn't shoot me.Go away.You're crazy.We know all about you.I'm not the crazy woman.Believe me.Let me in.
Don't do it, David.She's trying to trick us.
Listen to me, please.I've been running in this awful storm.My car is stuck in the ditch back there.
I don't know.It seems like miles.I heard about the crazy woman on the radio.I was afraid to stay in the car alone.Let me in.
No, David.Go back to your own car.
No!It's so dark and so lonely in this storm.I locked the doors, but I was afraid I could see things and hear things in the darkness.I couldn't stand it anymore.I got out and I ran.It's the rain.That's why I look like this.I'm not the crazy woman.
Dorothy. Maybe she isn't a crazy woman.Maybe she's just scared and exhausted.
Let me in, please!Let me in!No, David, no.
This crazy woman had a cleaver.I'm not armed.The three of us will be safer together.
She makes sense to me, Dorothy.We would be safer with one more person.
David, I don't know.Let me in, please! I'm wet to the skin.
I'm going to unlock the door, Dorothy.
All right.Now, get in.One move and I'll shoot you.
Oh, it's good.Sit down.All right.
Now, there's a blanket on the floor back there.Try and dry yourself off with it.
The darkness, the rain.There's enough to drive me out of my mind.
Well, just take it easy, lady.
I ran and ran.All I could hear was... Feet chasing after me.Hunting me.
Farther out.Near Restview.I used to live in Brooklyn.Restview is the mental hospital.I know.I'm used to the crazy people.But not a night in a lonely place like this.Not the kind who kill people.
Just near there.David. We can't sit here not knowing.If we could get to a phone... A phone!Why?To call the police.Get some help.
Why not?Why don't you want the police?
Oh, I do.But you'd be killed.What do you mean?The woman.She'll kill him if he goes away from this car.Oh!There's that dog.You hear it?Somebody's out there.
Well, there must be a house up ahead.Maybe it's barking.Give it a let in.
No!It senses somebody.There's somebody out there.The crazy woman's creeping around out there.Quick!Let's get away!Look out, David!
Let go of me!What are you trying to do?
Start the car, quick!We'll get away!
I don't think we parked here for the fun of it, do you?
Oh, such a desolate place to run out of gas.
Stop barking.What does it mean?You can't just sit here.We've got to get away.
I'm not a magician, lady.I can't make gasoline out of rain.
We can't stay here the whole night.You hear me?Let go of me.
There's nothing I can do.
Try something, anything.Don't just sit there.She's scaring me.David, stop her.
Cut it out.Cut it out.You'll have us all in hysterics.
All right.All right, I'm sorry. Look, I got an idea.Give me your gun.
What for?I'll tell you.I want it.Give it to me.David.Listen to me.I'm all right, but I can't sit here all night.I'd go crazy.Give me the gun.I'll go.I won't be afraid of the dark, the noises, the feet following me.I'll go.I promise you.
Please. I'll go, I promise!I can't stand sitting in the dark like this!Can't you stop her, David?
I told you to shut up!If you don't, you'll have to get out of the car.
Not into the woods again.Oh, you're nice people, aren't you?Or do you want me to leave so you can shoot me?
Is that it?We're not going to shoot you.We don't have a gun.It's only a pipe.A pipe? A smoking pipe?
Then... Then you're unarmed.
Why did you tell me you had a gun?
What difference would it make to you whether I'm armed or not?
Maybe you two are more dangerous than the crazy woman.I'll tell you what I think.I think you're the crazy woman. The way you grabbed David when you wanted him to start the car?
Nothing.Stop it.Don't excite her.
Don't excite me?Why?Do you think I'm dangerous?An old woman you took into your car, two of you, and you're afraid of me?
I'm not afraid of you.Now sit back in the seat and don't try anything.
David, the storm is stopping.Maybe now is the time.The time for what?
What are you going to do?You two are up to something.Oh, shut up!
My wife meant now is the time to go for help.
I did not.I meant now is the time for us to escape.David, can't you see it?She's the one.She'll kill us.You little... Oh, stop it.
No, but I've got a knife.
It's my jackknife, but it's sharp and strong, so don't try any tricks.
All right.Threaten me.Watch me while that woman is out there.All you can do is sit and wait for her to make the next move.
David, she can kill us like that old man and woman. Must have been on the same road.They were in their car, too.They must have let her in.We'll leave, then.
The three of us will walk.We'll stay close together.We'll be quiet.Anyone hiding in the woods won't hear us.Don't get out of the car, David.
Oh, how will we find our way?It's too dark.
Look out there.The road's full of shadows.
Get her out of the car, David.She wants to kill us.Kill you?
Look, if you want to go, why don't you leave?We're going to stay here until some help comes.
Oh, I'd be helpless alone.If I had a gun or something, you're nice.Oh, why doesn't somebody come?Where are the police?I can't stand this.Nobody will come.There's no one in these woods.They're buried out and deserted.
It was your idea to use this road. He wouldn't listen to me and stop for gas.
I couldn't help it.I got lost.
Oh, why don't you do something?Not just sit here waiting, waiting.Do something before we're murdered.Are you so helpless?
All right.I am going to do something.I'll go for help.
That's it.Get help.David.In her hand.I saw it in the moonlight.It glittered.
She was holding it.A long piece of broken glass, long and pointed.
She doesn't answer.She's just watching us.What is she waiting for?
It's from the broken window.That's where she got it.
So what if I have it?I'm not gonna sit here defenseless.
She's going to attack us.
Don't be silly. It was all right for you to have a knife.Why can't I be armed for whatever may come?
Give me that broken glass.
Give it to you?You think I'm crazy?You couldn't protect us from anything.David, what are you doing?Why are you climbing over the seat?
I'm warning you.I'm through letting my wife be terrified.Give me that glass.
Once I left the car, you were gonna butcher my wife with that broken glass.No!
David!Give me that glass!You're crazy!Let me alone!Hold her, David!Hold her!Don't let her free!Wrong!
You'll kill me!Drop that glass!You've both gone crazy! Trying to kill me?
Like you were gonna murder us?
I can't hold her.She's strong.
If you have a knife, then I'll have glass.David, hold her.Much longer.I'm not crazy.Please believe me.You got my throat.You're choking me.Your knife.David, your knife.
Oh, David, you killed her.David, you killed her.
I couldn't help it.I didn't mean it.Oh, you're covered with blood.She was going to kill us.
A car is coming.Help's coming.
Hey there, you in the car.Why are you parked here?It's the police.
We ran out of gas.The crazy one.What a night to run out of gas.You couldn't have picked a better spot.What with that woman running around loose.
Officer, we want to tell you... A farmer up the road called.
He said his dog's been barking at something.We caught her.Who'd you catch?
The crazy woman, she's in the back seat, dead.What?
No.No, she's alive.Hurt bad, though.She was trying to kill us.Well, we'll get her to a hospital.You two had better come with me.We captured that crazy woman a half hour ago.I don't know who this lady is. Suspense, presented by Autolite.
Tonight's star, Mr. Cary Grant.
Willcott, did your candidate's entire ticket get into office?Yes, sir, Senator.Along with the Autolite's stay-full battery, the voters elected all of the 400 products made by Autolite for cars, trucks, planes, and boats in 28 plants coast to coast.
These include complete electrical systems used as original factory equipment on many leading makes of America's finest cars.
Generators, coils, distributors, voltage regulators, electric windshield wipers, wire and cable, starting motors, all engineered to fit together perfectly, work together perfectly, because they're a perfect team.
So friends, don't accept electrical parts supposed to be as good.Ask for and insist on AutoLite original factory parts at your neighborhood service station, car dealer, garage, or repair shop. Remember, you're always right with Auto Light.
Next week on Suspense, for your Thanksgiving holiday listening, Mr. Ozzie Nelson and Miss Harriet Hilliard as stars of Going, Going Gone.And in the weeks to come, you will hear such famous stars as Van Heflin, Alan Ladd, and Cornel Wilde.
all appearing in tales well calculated to keep you in suspense suspense is produced and directed by elliot lewis with music composed by lucian morawak and conducted by lutt bluskin on a country road was written for suspense by walter bazaar and remember next week on suspense ozzy nelson and harriet hilliard in going going gone
You can buy Autolite stay-full batteries, Autolite standard type or resistor type spark plugs, Autolite electrical parts at your neighborhood Autolite dealers.Switch to Autolite.Good night.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
Suspense.And the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, the master of mystery and adventure, William N. Robeson.
You're about to experience one of the most terrifying half hours in your entire life.Three Skeleton Key, starring Vincent Price.Oh yes, I realize superlatives tend to lose their significance by overuse.
How many times have you been promised that a story would be the funniest, or the most dramatic, or the most exciting, only to find that it failed to live up to its advertising?The story you are about to hear is an exception.
It is unconditionally guaranteed to chill your blood, unless you happen to love rats.We begin now with Mr. Vincent Price in Three Skeleton Key, a play well calculated to keep you in. Suspense.
Picture this place.A gray, tapering cylinder welded by iron rods and concrete to the key itself. A bare black rock, 150 feet long, maybe 40 wide.That's at low tide.At high tide, just the light, rising 110 feet straight up out of the ocean.
And all about it, the churning water, gray-green, scum-dappled, warm as soup.And swarming with gigantic bat-like devil fish, great violet schools of Portuguese man o' war, and... Yes, sharks, the big ones, the 15 footers.
And as if this wasn't enough, there was a hot, dank, rotten smelling wind that came at us day and night off the jungle swamps of the mainland.A wind that smelled like death.Set in the base of the light was a watertight bronze door.In you went and up.
Yes. Up and up and round and round, past the tanks of oil and the coils of rope, cases of wicks, racks of lanterns, sacks of spuds and cartons and cans, and up and up and up, round and round.
Over the light storeroom was the food storeroom, and over the food storeroom was the bunkroom where the three of us slept.And over the bunkroom was the living and cooking room, and over the living and cooking room was the light.
She was a beauty, balanced like a ballerina on the glistening steel axle of her rotary mechanism.And at night she'd lie there on the stone deck of the gallery with her revolving smoothly and quietly over your head, easing her bright white eye
360 degrees around the horizon.You'd lie there watching to see that the feeders kept working, that everything ran right.And it wouldn't be bad.The other two fellas snoring in their sacks two levels down.
You'd smoke your pipe to kill the stink of the wind.And it wouldn't be bad. About those other two, Louis and Auguste.What a pair.
Louis, he was head man, with a big fellow from the Basque country, black beard, little hard black eyes, and a pair of arms that I tell you, those arms were as big around as my legs, yeah?Head man he was, and what word he let go was law.
A silent fellow, and although I spent my first two weeks trying to strike up a real conversation, the most I could ever get out of it.
I took up this profession because I don't like people.They talk too much.It's quiet work, light-tending.Let's keep it that way, understand?You're getting to be as bad as a goose. I thought maybe... That was Louie.
And when he accused me of becoming like Auguste, I quieted down because Auguste was the talkingest man I've ever met.The talkingest and the ugliest.He was hunchbacked, stood four feet high, had red hair and big blue eyes.
It seems he'd been an actor in Paris.
and bare their teeth at me.Well, finally it got too bad.I couldn't stand it any longer.So I gave up the theater.My nerves, you understand.Yes, I gave it up completely.I really did.I couldn't stand it any longer.
It all started one morning at 2.30.
I was on watch, lying on the cool stone deck, pulling on my pipe, staring out at the blackness, the phosphorescent comers, and the big yellow stars, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something show up for a second, something the light had touched, far off.
I waited for her to come around again, and when she did, there it was. a three-master, a big one, about a half-mile off and coming down out of the nor-northwest, coming straight for us.
You must understand, our light was where it was for a very good reason.Dangerous submerged reefs surrounded us and ships kept clear, but this one, this sailing vessel, was coming straight on.I went over to the gallery door and yelled, Lurie!
Lurie!Ship headed for the Reefs.Coming right up.
I had the glasses out now.Couldn't read her name, but I could see her quite plainly.All sails set, the foam creaming away under her bow, her beautiful lines.A Dutch ship, I guessed her.But why didn't she turn?
Every time it passed, our light hit her with the glare of day.
North or west.The light will touch her in a moment. Can't they see?Look at her.She just keeps coming on.Squareheads.
I know.I know what it is.
The Dutchman.The flying Dutchman.
She's derelict.That's it.Abandoned.The crew left her for some reason or other, but instead of sinking, she's gone on. running before every wind.
He'll not run long, not with these reefs to break her up.
A beautiful ship.Now, why would men leave a beautiful ship like that?
We watched her the rest of those black hours, heeling and rocking, pushed and pulled by every stray wind, every freak current. Watched her until the dawn came, till the sea turned from black to a pearly gray.And on she came again, heading for us.
We all had our glasses trained on her now.Auguste, you can kill the light.Right, chief.She doesn't look so good by daylight.Do you think she'll ground this time?I say, do you think she'll ground this time?
This is impossible.Absolutely impossible.
Here, take my glasses.They're stronger than yours.All right.What is it?
I had to focus and then my breath froze in my throat.The decks were swarming with a dark brown carpet that looked like a gigantic fungus, but undulating.
And on the mass and yards, the guys and all were hundreds, no, thousands, no, I don't know, an inestimable number of tremendous rats.
See them? Yes, yes, I see them.Now we know why she's a devil.Yes, now we know.
What are you two doing here?Give me a look.
Yes, give him the glasses.Take a good look, chatterbox.Give you something to talk about.
She's still heading for us.Look, if she's going to turn, she better turn soon.Suppose she doesn't.You mean, suppose she piles up on the key?It's low tide.
Yes, yes, it is.Well, where's all the conversation?Boogies?
Turn, will you turn?I say I pray you turn.Cracked up.
Rats, look. On the water, like a carpet.Swimming.
Sure, they're swimming.Those are ship rats.They're swimming for the rocks.
It's open.Yes, come on.How he went, racing down the stone stairs, taking them three and four at a time.Scared.You can bet we were scared.
August, you get the windows.Maybe they can climb.We don't know.
Right, Chief.But hurry, hurry.
See them? No.Oh, yes, I do.Yes.Up at the other end of the rock.Look at them.Millions.They smell us.Here they come.
Close the door.I can't.It's stuck.Oh, here.Let me.Move.
Move.Move.Move.We've made it.Holy.That was close.One got in.Look.There.We'll get him.Watch it.He's... Take him.What a brute.
Big as a tomcat.Big.His eyes were wild and red, his teeth long and sharp and yellow.He went for a starving ravenous.And we fought him, fought that one rat all over the room.It was, oh, believe me, I do not exaggerate.It was like fighting a panther.
We'd better get a loft.We ran up the winding staircase.We passed the tiny windows of the various levels and at every one Every one was a thick, wriggling, screaming curtain of brown fur.I was ahead of Louie, and I dreaded each successive level.
Suppose they had found a way in.
Look at them.Oh, will you look at them?
The air of the gallery was thick and fetid with the stink of them.The light was dim brown, filtered through the crawling mass that swarmed over the glass all about us.
We could not see the sky, nothing, nothing but them.
Their red eyes, their claws, their wriggling, hairy snouts and their teeth.The rats, they screamed and howled and threw themselves against the glass.
They were starving and we three, we stood quietly, very, very quietly in the center of the glass room under our beautiful light and we waited.
What can we do?What can we do, Chief?
It won't do any good.It won't do any good to stand here and shake.That's right.
Go away.Go away.Do you hear me?Go away this instant.
Not until... Finish it, Chief.Not until what?
Not until they've been fed.
You can take just so much horror, and then you get used to it.And they were interesting to watch, you know.They couldn't understand the glass.They could see us and they could rush at us, but that thin, invisible barrier held them off, stopped them.
From time to time we caught a glimpse of the rocks below.More rats down there, swarming brown velvet in the bright tropical sunlight.And then the tide began to rise.
If only it had drowned some of them.If rats don't drown, you can't drown one of them.Look, they're all climbing up the tower.Yeah, this bunch around us is getting thicker.Say, what's the time now?Quarter of six. You've got first watch.
Yes, that's right.I will.Come along, August.
It was getting dark.One side of the room was lit a soft, filtered red sunset through the rats.Very pretty.I set the wicks, checked my fuel, and then lit the lamp.It caught them.
lit them in their gigantic, wriggling web of pale, hairless bellies, twitching red tails, bright eyes.And then I started the rotary motor.The light, the light drove them mad.
As she swung slowly and smoothly about, she blinded them in the fierce stabbing bar of light, moving continually about, ever turning, ever touching, ever moving around and around, and they twitching and shuddering, eyes flaming when they were struck by the light, the bright light moving, and behind on the dark side of the room, so close, so close,
I dared not turn my back, which cannot help turning your back when you were in a room made of glass.
On the dark side of the room, you could not see them, but only their eyes, thousands of points of blank red light, blinking and twinkling like the stars of hell.
Louis relieved me a 10.But as you may imagine, I didn't get much sleep that night. And when I came up into the gallery early the next morning, there stood Auguste.He was bowing to the rats, waving his arms, and so help me, making a speech.
My dear audience, I am going to play once again that magnificent role which made me the toast of the Paris theatre. Prelate, the evil genius of the medieval underworld.I am he who did guide the dark soul of the Maréchal into the nether paths.
Do not be frightened, little children.I will not hurt you much.He kept turning.
I stood staring at him.Horror struck, but he didn't notice me. The man had gone mad.He kept turning, telling his stories to all the rats, leaving not one out.
August!August!Another one?A latecomer.Take a seat on the aisle, dear butler.Stop it!Stop it!
He didn't stop it. He went on bowing and scraping to the racks, his big blue eyes rolling and winking, his wild red hair waving about him.I grabbed him by the arm and slapped his face.He looked at me like a child and then his face screwed up.
He looked as though we were about to cry.Go below, August.Go on.
Very well, then. Later, my dear audience.Later.Matinee today.
Sure, he was crazy.But I guess we all were. A few hours later, he came back up and caught Louie and me teasing the rats.Yes.Sounds horrible?It was fun.We would get right up against the glass and make faces at them.It drove them crazy.
They would scratch away, trying to get at our eyes.Louie was even cuter about it.He'd pull a piece of bread out of his pocket and press it against the glass.The rats would scramble into a solid ball, biting each other, clustering like grapes.
From time to time, a whole knot of them would slip and fall 110 feet to the surf below.Look, look, look at the sharks.They're eating them.No, those sharks are our friends.Here, here, I'll get another bunch together.
Here, my beauty.That's it.I'll... kill each other.There they go!
August joined in too.Oh, very ingenious August.He learned that if he spread-eagled himself against the glass, they'd bunch and bundle against his figure.Then he'd leap back.
Look!My portrait!It wraps!
It went on all day, and then I was lying in bed.It was about midnight.I was very tired, and I was just beginning to fall off to sleep when I became conscious of a new sound.I couldn't figure it at first.
I got up, lit the lamp, and went to the window. Even as I looked at it, I saw one of the panes begin to sag in.They had eaten the wood away.
Louie!Louie, come quick!What?What is it?They found a way in.
I held the glass with my hand.Now they were all going crazy, and assured of the success of this maneuver, they were all nibbling away at the wood.Louie ran below and then returned with a large sheet of tin.
He spread it against the window and hammered it into place. Even as we did so, I felt the heavy bodies thudding against the other side as the window gave way.Hey, hey.That ought to hold.
If it doesn't, we're done for.Rats can't eat tin.Oh, no, they can't.What?What was that?I don't know.It came from below.The storeroom window.They're in.
They're swarming up the stairs.Drop the trap.Right. Two of them got in.Go after them.We didn't have to go after them.
They came at us.I leapt to one side and grabbed a marlin spike, swung and smashed one in midair.I whirled to see Louie, but the other had ripped his handle and blood was pouring all over the place.
He held his handle off and kicked at the snarling rat.I stepped and swung and got him.My hand.
He's got my hand.That's the both of them, Louie. I'll get you something to tie that up.Blood, look at it, my blood, I'm bleeding.Don't worry about it, don't worry, now here, look.
I'll wind this kerchief around it, it'll be okay.
There, there, it's not bad, just the flesh.My blood.
Then I became conscious of a new sound.They were gnawing their way through the wooden trap door. I watched the planks fascinated, and even as I did, it began to give way.A bristling, whiskery snout showed through.Louie!Louie, we've got to go up!
The next level was the living quarters and kitchen.
I slammed the flap there, too, but it, too, was wood.My blood.What are we going to do?I don't know.
They'll be through this one in a moment.The gallery.The top door in the gallery is metal.Good.Come on.
Oh, we made it.We made it.We lay across the trap, exhausted, while below us the rats took over the entire town.
I could hear them howling and fighting over our food supply, our water, our leather, and all about us, the others screamed and glared in at us, swayed in a tangled mess, hypnotized by the ever-turning light.
By morning, the air in the little room was horrible.To now, we'd been getting air from the tower below.Now that was sealed off, and so was all our food and water.We lay exhausted, panting, waiting, waiting.The hours crawled on.
I was almost dozing from fatigue when I saw a sight that brought me too fast.
Would you like to come in, my beauties?Yes, will you?I hold the powers of life and death, and I can let you in, you know.
The goose was standing by the glass, and in one hand he held a big wrench.He was tapping the glass gently, not quite hard enough to break it. eased myself to my feet and slowly, very slowly, I tiptoed toward him.
All I have to do is just a little harder and...
I found a coil of wire in the tool kit and I trussed him up, fastened him to a stanchion in the center of the room.Louie was of no help.He lay on his side looking at his bloody hand, weak and sick as a baby.
So there I was, a lunatic and a coward for company and all about watching our little drama, The Rats. The day dragged by.The supply boat wasn't due for another 12 days.I don't know what they could have done if they had come.
And we had only one way of summoning them.That was to shoot off distress rockets, but the rockets were four floors below.And even if they'd been right there in the gallery, I couldn't have opened a window to fire them.
That night I tended the light, but its flame was devouring our oxygen.The following day we lay, thirst-tormented, starving, waiting, waiting.
The following night I again tended the light, but the small supply of spare wicking we kept in the gallery had become exhausted, and quite suddenly, at about midnight, the light went out. There was nothing I could do.
Wicks were stored three levels below.Nothing I could do, nothing.From time to time, I'd strike a match to see the clock.And when I did, it lit up the million red eyes about us, all about us, watching, waiting.Below, it had grown quiet.
They'd cleaned us out, and now they, too, were waiting. All waiting.And then the rats, quite suddenly, were silent.And then I heard it.And then I saw the sky and the stars.The rats were gone.I went to the glass.
Out there on the water, a small freighter, a banana boat, showing a few lights, came softly and innocently at us.The light was out.They didn't know.I wanted to open the windows to call out to them, to warn them somehow, but I was afraid.
What if the rats were hiding from me, tricking me?So I waited. She grounded very softly on a reef not 200 yards from the key.Grounded so gently that the man playing the cornet, was he a passenger or a crewman off watch, didn't even stop playing.
They tried washing her back off.I could have told them to save their fuel.The tide was rising, would have floated her free.And I waited. Well, that's all.That's the story.The sun came up and there wasn't a rat on the whole key.
Every last one of that terrible army had deserted us.Gone back to sea on their new ship.August?Insane asylum, he never recovered. Louis, they took him into Cayenne, where he died of blood poisoning from his bite.
Life on Three Skeleton Key isn't bad these days.But sometimes when I see a strange vessel approaching, I get a little nervous.Sure.Somewhere on the seas, there's a little banana boat without a crew.That is, without a human crew.
Suspense.In which Vincent Price starred in Three Skeleton Key with John Daner and Ben Wright.Suspense. Suspense was directed in Hollywood by William N. Robeson.Three Skeleton Key was adapted by James Poe from the story by George G. Tudu's.
Leith Stevens composed and conducted the original score.Sound pattern by Cliff Thorsness, Gus Bays, and Ray Kemper.George Walsh speaking.
Suspense is presented by the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.
That will do it for our ultra-scary, king-sized bonus Halloween episode.Thanks for joining me, and however you're celebrating, I hope you have a safe and happy Halloween.I'll be back later this week with our next regular episode.
In the meantime, you can check out Down These Mean Streets, which also drops its Halloween special this week.
Remember to rate, review, and subscribe to the show wherever you find it, and if you'd like to lend support to the podcast, you can visit buymeacoffee.com slash meanstsotr.
Now, good night until next time, when I'll be back with more old-time radio tales well calculated to keep you in... Suspense.
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