Unknown Broadcast | Harvest of Death & The Ghost in the Garden: Old-Time Radio Mysteries

My dear, it's positively gorgeous, at least, I assume, out there. Autumn leaves are falling, and the breezes are cutting through the bare branches like a straight razor, dashing through a late night stroll. Oh, what's that? Oh, nothing, nothing at all. Please have a seat. The fire is definitely happy to see you. Let's take a moment to enjoy the fruits of our harvest, so to speak. After all, the Harvest Moon is upon us very soon. That rhymed. Well, let's just follow me down the garden path. The CBS Radio Mystery Theater presents... Come in. Welcome, I'm EG.

Marshall. On the one hand, we have those who claim that man is essentially good. On the other, we have those who insist that man is basically evil. Of course, it's possible to believe that man is a little bit of each. To complicate matters further, we have those who contend that good and evil are not absolutes, that they change with circumstances, customs and cases. Well, an hour from now, we may all be somewhat wiser. Perhaps, but are you sure you really want this, Alfredo? Who would refuse immortality? Consider, to achieve it, you will have to die tonight.

Of course, you have to die in order to become immortal. But if you're dead, what good does it do you? I'll be immortal. But you won't know it. What's the difference? It will be true. Our mystery drama, Down the Garden Path, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Sam Dann and stars Gordon Gould and Mandel Kramer. I'll be back shortly with Act 1. The basic purpose of all politicians is to perpetuate themselves in office. That's what Niccolò Machiavelli said in the year 1500. And the reason we quote him and why he is to become the hero, or if you will, the central character of our story, is because his philosophy is so modern and so applicable to our present day.

Therefore, once again, we validate the old adage, the more things change, the more they remain the same. Or as the French would put it, plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. I would just as soon as you didn't mention the French, or the Spaniards, or the Germans. These are the predatory foreigners who continue to rape and pillage my beloved Italy. Beloved. Does that word seem strange on the lips of Niccolo Machiavelli? Why? Have I not devoted my entire life to the service of Florence, my city, and Italy, my country? I was never a rich man, or even a great one.

I was never more than secretary to the ruling council of Florence. And I was always being called on to perform extra little duties. Please be seated, Niccolo. Thank you, excellency. And how is the newlywed? Newly delighted with my newly found happiness, excellency. And the beautiful bride, Mone Marietta. She glows. Ah, Niccolo, it breaks my heart. But I must ask you to abandon your nuptial cards to undertake a confidential mission. I am ever at your excellency's command. You must proceed at once to Imola, as our special envoy to Chesere Borgia. The duke? That bandit. He is up to his usual mischief.

He insists that we dismiss our Swiss and German mercenaries and hire his contartiere to protect the republic. I seem to recall, sire, that we had signed a contract with him to that effect. And you should also recall that each of us has broken it in the past, as it may have suited our convenience. Yes, excellency. Now Borgia tells us we must assume the salaries of his soldiers, or he will declare war on Florence. Go to him, and when he asks about the money, tell him nothing. Nothing, your excellency? Promise him nothing, and refuse him nothing.

Buy for us the most precious commodity in the world. Time. And so I am sent as ambassador by Don Piero Sodorini, president of the ruling council of the Republic of Florence. And I am expected to match wits with the illustrious Duke Cesare Borgia, one of the most ruthless and powerful nobles in Italy, a man of genius whose cunning and guile have already become legendary. Needless to say, the duke saw through me at once. Ah, secretary, you have brought me the money? The money, your grace? From the Republic of Florence to pay the wages of 1,000 lancers and 3,500 infantry.

No, your grace. Then why have you come here? I was sent to ascertain the nature of your demands. The nature of my demands has been crystal clear these past 18 months. Perhaps if we might review them. No matter how many times we review them, they shall still remain the same. And yet, your grace, isn't it a fact that nothing remains the same? Time is constantly altering circumstances. What is time alter than our circumstances, secretary? Florence has signed a treaty with King Louis of France. I am aware of it. He will come to our defense if we are attacked.

However, secretary, isn't it possible that my artillery could breach the walls of Florence and my army could sack the city before his troops could arrive? And suppose I offered him half the loot? Would his troops even set forth? I can only repeat, sire, we have a treaty. All you have given King Louis is a piece of paper. I can send him a wagon train loaded with gold, silver, precious stones, and a share of the spoils of the city of Florence. I demand immediate payment for my troops. I shall write to the council and inform them of your demand.

Why is it necessary to write? Give the approval yourself. I have no authority to do that. You see how untrustworthy your government is? They send me an ambassador who has no power to decide anything. Yes? This letter has just arrived from Florence, sire. Excuse me, secretary, while I read this communication. Of course, your grace. No. This is infamous. Secretary, this is an outrage, even for Florence. Your grace? I've just been informed that my kinsman, young Count Emilio de Forli, has been assassinated in your city last night. Your grace, on behalf of Florence, may I express my deepest sympathy?

I do not ask sympathy from Florence. I demand justice. I can assure your grace that justice will be done. My information tells me that the culprit is one Alfredo Petrucci. But since he is a member of an old and influential house, he will most likely escape justice. Alfredo Petrucci? Is your informant positive? He is a most reliable agent. No doubt. But I hasten to assure your grace that if Alfredo Petrucci is guilty, he will hang for his crime. Poor Emilio, hardly more than a child. So studious, so bright, such a brilliant future. But why should Alfredo have killed him?

You know why, secretary. To strike a blow against the Borgias, who unjustly are disliked in Florence. I insist that the culprit pay. Of course. I shall sit down this evening and write to the council about your very strong feelings in this matter. No, secretary, I would prefer if you would relieve for Florence the very first thing in the morning and convey those feelings in person. Tell your superiors, in no uncertain terms, that I will have justice. The arrival of the letter was obviously planned for my benefit, Pompiero. This kinsman of his, this young Emilia di Foile, was perhaps the most disliked young rake in the city.

His body was found outside of Bordello, near the Ponte Vecchio. And who killed him? There was a drunken brawl at the time the watch could arrive. Everyone had fled. And Alfredo Petrucci, the one accused? Alfredo has outgrown his youthful exuberances. He is not known to be one of the young bloods who frequent the district. Where was he on the night of the murder? He says he was with a lady. Who? Well, he refuses to compromise her. Now, Nicolo, we can pick up some Vagabond and have him confess to the murder. I would advise against it, sire.

There are ways to extract a confession. Yes, but for reasons of his own, Jezary Borgia wants the blood of Alfredo Petrucci. And the council must decide whether or not he is to get it. He is asking us for a favor. Yes, don Tiero. And he is placing himself in our debt. It means he is willing to pay for it. Why? I cannot say. But the matter is of such great importance that we cannot dismiss it lightly. Why? Why did duke Jezary Borgia want Alfredo Petrucci tried and hanged for murder? There was no connection between them that I could see.

And the relationship between himself and his slain kinsman Emilio de Forli was so distant and tenuous that it was almost non-existent. Finally, the council arrived at a decision. The court order we have decided to arrest Alfredo Petrucci for the murder of Emilio de Forli. I see. What is it you see? I see that it may be desirable to appease Jezary Borgia by hanging Alfredo Petrucci. Have you also considered that the people will realize that Borgia is behind it and blame him for the execution of an innocent man? This will do him no good here politically.

There is another possibility. May I speak freely, Don Piero? Always. While the people may be angry with Borgia, they may become furious with the council for giving in to him. Thus, in the long run, Borgia is ahead. There must be a way to do this, Nicolo. There must be a way. He looked at me as he said it. So naturally what he meant was that I must find the way. But how? Until I could discover just why Borgia wanted Alfredo Petrucci's life, I could see no way to solve the problem. Indeed, I didn't even know what the problem was.

And then, one day, I found out. She told me, she, Caterina di Modena, one of the most beautiful women in Italy, and the mistress of Cesare Borgia. Messeri Machiavelli, so kind of you to come. What man could lightly refuse a summons from the Queen of Beauty? May I offer you refreshment? I would rather you offered me enlightenment. They have arrested Alfredo Petrucci. And how does this concern you, Mona Caterina? May I rely on your honor? Of course. I love him. You love Alfredo Petrucci? Desperately. I see. And is this why Cesare Borgia wants him dead?

I simply do not, I cannot understand Cesare. He abandons me weeks, months, even a year at a time to attend to his tiresome, never-ending military conquests. What am I supposed to do? If I wanted to live without love, I would have taken the veil. I now understand the nature of Duke Cesare's feeling against Alfredo. Oh, I told Cesare that Alfredo means nothing to me. But you said you loved him. Of course I love him. I love his handsome face and his curly hair and his slender and supple body. But in a few years these shall be gone.

His hair will fall out. His face will become lined and bloated. His body shall run to fat. Then what will be left for me to love? But Cesare, he's the man I shall love forever. Cesare shall also grow old and bald and bloated. Yes, but he shall always be Cesare. I wondered why Cesare wanted Alfredo's death. And now that I know, I see it doesn't matter. Why not? Because it changes nothing. Alfredo must die in any event. No, no, please save him. How? Surely a way will occur to you. You give me too much credit.

Perhaps I am not giving you enough inspiration. Inspiration? Yes. Oh? I have the most beautiful gardens. Shall we go outside and stroll through them? Their loveliness should inspire all sorts of ideas. I should find that delightful. Come. See, the roses are in bloom. What a heavenly smell. Ah, Miss Harry Machiavelli, you would not take advantage of a poor, distraught, lovelorn lady? No, Monocatrine, never. And you promise me, you give me a word that you will save poor Alfredo Petrucci? Save him? Yes, Miss Harry, save him. Let me say this, I shall make him immortal. Immortal?

Immortal. It's the best I can do. Is it good enough? Oh, yes, it is good enough. And now, let us walk down this path. It leads to a most quiet, lovely and private little power. And so, we close on a stroll down a garden path. But who is taking whom for a walk? She seems to be quite a woman, this Caterina di Modena. Also, one who is considerably ahead of her time. But can she be ahead of Niccolo Machiavelli? This will form the substance of Act II, shortly. When we think of Machiavelli, we usually conjure up an image of a man deep into great affairs with rock nations and the entire world.

Actually, he operated on a more modest scale. His philosophy was based on some very basic observations of human nature, and could be expressed in rather simple, straightforward terms. For instance, he is credited by many as being the author of the expression, There is no use crying over spilt milk. And just because Alfredo Petrucci has slept with his mistress, Caterina de Madena, Cesare Borgia wants us to hang him on the strumped up charges of murder? Yes, Don Piero. What do you make of it, Nicolo? I think, sire, that Borgia has decided not to press us too hard for the money to pay his conductiary.

Why? He is not too sure of King Louis of France. He too is playing for time. Meanwhile, he wants to savor some sort of victory over Florence, prove to us that he can bend us to his will. I am almost tempted to satisfy him. He is always demanding tangible evidence of our friendship. Yes, I know. And one life is a cheap price to pay. You betrayed me. Now, Mona Caterina... You promised me you would save him. I promised you I would make him immortal. Well, isn't that the same thing? Not quite. All I know is he shall stand trial and then be executed.

We can only hope for the best. If the Council gives in to this, this blackmail by Cesare, it will be the worst for them. Have you heard the people on the street? Yes, I always listen to the people on the street. They are outraged. That's true. It is no longer a matter of Alfredo's life. It has become now a test of the honor of Florence. I understand. You understand and yet you propose to do nothing? I am even now considering a plan. Yes, tell me. Shall we go for a stroll to your lovely garden? Niccolo Machiavelli, would you take unfair advantage of a poor, distraught, lovelorn lady?

Oh, no, mona Caterina, never. Shall we? Very well, Miss Harry Niccolo. Very well. I cannot tell you how deep and delightful a source of inspiration was Caterina di Nordana. And in that lovely garden bower, I conceived the idea that would be the salvation of Florence, and in a way also the salvation of Alfredo Petrucci. Thank you, Sergeant. You may leave us alone. Good morning, Alfredo. Is it morning? In this dank hole, no one can tell. I shall arrange for you to have more comfortable quarters. I want nothing from you, Miss Harry Machiavelli. Perhaps you can even have a visitor.

I want nothing from any official of the corrupt and cowardly government of Florence. A most lovely visitor. Please, please, why must you torture me? Hang me. Get it over with. I brought some wine. I'll say this. It will do the council no good. Drink. You'll feel better. I shall proclaim my innocence in the courtroom. Now, my boy, you know better than that. They will get you to confess. Oh? You're sure of that? Finish your glass. Yes, I'm sure. I know. When they place a man on the rack and begin to stretch and finally break his bones, he will confess to anything.

Then that's what they will have to do to me. Break me on the rack, but the people won't be fooled. They will know that I confessed because I was driven mad with pain. I had come here hoping to save you from all that. Save me? How? I was hoping that you would agree to be dressed in brilliant robes and that you would stand at the bar of justice filled with joy and that men and women would weep at the sight of you. Yes? And in a voice filled with conviction, flowing with sincerity, you would confess to the murder of Emilio de Forlis.

That's what I think of your whine. Alfredo, listen. Never. Do you love your city of Florence? What is this to do with my confessing to... Would you die for Florence? I am willing to die for Florence, but not for Cesare Borgia. Cesare Borgia is the most dangerous enemy of our city. Then why do we pander to him? Why don't we fight him? No, Alfredo, Alfredo, we were waiting. For what? For whom? A leader. You. Me? Yes, drink some more wine. No. No, you need it, it's good for you. It's so damp and cold in here.

Devil take you and your wine. Here, and don't break the glass, it's my last one. Alfredo, what is the tragedy of our country? Please leave me. I'll tell you, we don't fight for ourselves. We call in foreign princes to protect us. And then these rapacious people strip us of everything. What is all this to me now? In less than a week, I'll be dead. And as if the foreigners aren't that enough, we have our own native bandits, Conductori, who pick away at the leftovers. And the most powerful of all these is Cesare Borgia. You will have to live with him from now on, not I.

Italy could be a free, united, powerful country if, do you know the if? Uh, pull me a bit more of that wine. If we would raise our own armies, do you agree? Ourselves, Venice, Pisa, all of us, do we arm our own people? No, we hire bandits, foreigners and natives. This must stop. Don't shake that bottle when you talk, Mr. Arimachiavelli. You might drop it. I said we were waiting for a leader. He has arrived. Do you know who he is? Who? I told you already. You. Me? Uh, Mr. Arimachiavelli, if I'm the one who is drinking, why are you the one who is talking nonsense?

You, Alfredo Petrucci. You decided to strike a blow for freedom. A blow for Florence. I did? When? When you killed Emilio de Forli. When I killed it. But I didn't. Now, pay attention. My glass is empty. Easily remedied. Thank you. Now listen. Do you know who Emilio de Forli was? I never laid eyes on the man in all my life. Did you know he was an agent of Jezreborja? He was? He was sent here to undermine the Council of Florence, to incite the citizens to overthrow the government. What a scoundrel! And in the confusion and disarray, Jezreborja would march in with his troops and take over the Republic.

The treacherous villain! That's why you killed him. I... I what? That's why you killed him. Uh, Mazzeri Mattiavelli, I may be, uh, drunk, yes, but I'm not quite drunk enough to swallow that. Alfredo, the deepest desire of your heart is to ensure the freedom of your beloved Florence. That's why you killed Emilio de Forni, to rouse the people. But I didn't kill... You must stand at the bar of justice, as I have just said, and proclaim your guilt proudly. I have no intention of... What a speech you shall make! Fellow citizens, I, even if I were the only one, had decided that I must strike a blow for Florence, and so I killed the wretch.

Let Chesire Borgia know that death awaits all his minions and himself should he dare to set foot within our gates. Please, Messeri Nicola, I'm miserable enough now. Have some more wine. Ah! Thus, you become a hero to all of Florence. Mm, a dead hero? No, my boy, you will become a hero who shall live forever. You shall be immortal. But I'll be dead. Well, yes, you must die in order to achieve immortality in the first place. But that's an insignificant detail. Not to me. My boy, death comes to us all sooner or later. What are a few years, more or less?

I offer you immortality. What will I do with it? Is there a drop left in that bottle, Messeri Nicola? Listen, my friend, already Florence hails you as a martyr. Oh, it's empty. I have another in my bag. Do this. Die for Florence. You love Florence. Yes, yes, yes. I love her. Oh, my boy, she shall repay you with her adoration forever. Messeri Nicola, I've listened to you. I know. And I don't believe a word you're saying. You don't? No. Very well. Let me prove it. Prove what? That Florence already worships you. Sergeant of the Guard.

And so I took him out of the prison under escort. We rode through the streets of the city. The people crowded along the route. And along the way, you could hear whispers, excited whispers. It's Alfredo Petrucci. Alfredo the Martyr. Alfredo the Saint. See, Alfredo, what did I tell you? See, the people? I... I... I don't know what to say. Why is everyone so quiet? If you were just an ordinary hero, the air would be split with shouts and cheers and salutes. But you, Alfredo Petrucci, are destined for immortality. And this is the respectful silence which is louder than all the artillery of Chesere Borgia.

But I don't understand. Already, they have been told why you killed Emilio. But I didn't kill him. Who is right? You or the entire city? But, my boy, look at these faces. See what you have done. See the fires that smolder in everyone's eyes. See the resolve on everyone's jaw. You have turned Florence into a proud city, a city that will fight for its freedom. Don't betray these people. We returned to his cell. There was a great look of exaltation on his face. Somehow, you could sense that there was something different about him. I offered him some more wine.

No, thank you, Niccolo. Well, Alfredo, you saw for yourself. Yes, yes, I saw. I saw how my deepest and dearest wish could be fulfilled. If I die now, I will live forever. They will sing songs about you, write verses. Your pictures will adorn every patriotic home in Florida. You're right. I must die for the murder of Emilio de Forre. Oh, clearly I see it. Anyone can be convinced of anything, as long as the convincer is of the caliber of Niccolo Machiavelli. But do all of his problems end here? How can they? This is only the curtain for the second act.

Today's politicians could borrow a leaf from the tree, to talk of Niccolo Machiavelli. And the successful ones already have. The story we are telling you now concerns Niccolo Machiavelli when he was younger and first learning the business. You must agree, he was quite an apt pupil. Ah, Niccolo! Don Piero, I have solved the problem. Good! Alfredo Petrucci will confess to the murder of Emilio de Forli. He killed him because Forli was a spy for Jezary Borgia. In short, it was a patriotic murder. Excellent! Thus, he dies a martyr, and the entire Republic of Florence is united in its hatred of Jezary Borgia.

Splendid, Niccolo! I always knew we could depend on you. Thank you, sire. Alfredo Petrucci, he had been transferred to a rather comfortable suite of rooms in the council building itself. Crowds stood outside in the streets, hoping for a glimpse of him at the windows. He was allowed to receive visitors, and the apartment was filled with nobles, artists, clergy, dignitaries of all kinds. Finally, I was able to corner him alone for a few minutes. Ah, ms. Sary Niccolo, they told me you were waiting. So good of you to receive me, Alfredo. Niccolo, I'm not one to forget my friends.

I owe all of this to you. Oh, now. It's true. Had it not been for you, I would have been a poor, stubborn wretch broken on the rack. And for what purpose? For what purpose, indeed. Now, thanks to you, I shall achieve immortality. I'm glad I was able to assist you. Immortality? Do you know who was here to see me yesterday and study my face for a portrait? Leonardo da Vinci. Who? The great Leonardo. And... Mona Caterina? Yes. Mona Caterina has insisted on braiding the hanging rope with colorful silk and threads of gold. The hangman was moved to tears.

I see. If only you knew how lovely she is. How soft. How tender. I know. I know. Look at me. I am the luckiest man who has ever lived. Niccolo, sit down. Sit down. Alfredo's trial begins tomorrow. Yes. Is something wrong? It is why I have sent for you. I have just received a letter from King Louis of France. Yes, Don Piero. He wants Alfredo to plead not guilty, and he wants me to instruct the court to acquit him. But why? Alfredo's sister, Diana, it seems she is the mistress of the Chivalles Saint Denis. He is the king's nearest and dearest friend.

Why does everybody's mistress always seem to be getting us into these scrapes? So, Alfredo must change his plea. But it would be good for Florence if he were hanged for that murder. I agree. It would unify the city and fan the fires of patriotism. Which may also be an element in King Louis' thinking. Alfredo even wants to plead guilty. I know. What's to be done now? Now, you must talk him out of it. But I don't know if I can do that. Why not? You talked him into it. Mr. Nicolo, I sent for you because I am highly displeased.

I am devastated if I am the cause of any... No, I won't let you talk around me. I understand you intend to rob Alfredo of his immortality. No, Mona Caterina. How could you be so cruel? I am thinking of his happiness. But he is deliriously happy now. By living, he can do more for Florence than by dying. I don't believe you. But, Caterina, have I ever lied to you? Have I? Well... Let me convince you of how fondly I hold his interest in my heart, how dedicated I am to his happiness. Very well. Tell me I'm listening.

How... how can we talk of such vital matters here? Let us walk in the garden. Niccolò, you wouldn't take advantage of a poor, deserted, lovelorn lady now. Would you? I'm sure I convinced the beautiful, charming, delightful Mona Caterina of my sincerity. But convincing Alfredo was another matter. He wore his immortality like a cloak. He refused to take it off. But you were the one who told me, die for Florence. Listen to me, Alfredo. I have committed a sin. So have you. No, but I am the one whose guilt is greater. I lied to you. Lied?

I convinced you to claim that you killed Emilio de Forli. But I did kill Emilio de Forli. No. How can you say no? Emilio de Forli was carelessly stabbed to death in a drunken brawl outside of Bordello near the Ponte Vecchio. That's a lie. I killed him. How did you kill him? When? Where? I stabbed him. It was... I... I killed him. but you promised me immortality. I know, but things change. I don't care. I have seen immortality. I have touched it. I've tasted it. Alfredo, immortality is only granted to us by the Creator. You cannot earn immortality if you go to a liar's death.

But it's not a lie. I want to stand in the condemned box. I want to hurl my accusation at Caesar at Roger. I want to go to my patriot's death and my hero's reward. My poor Alfredo. And nothing, nothing you can hope to say will deprive me of it. It looked that way. And it seemed that perhaps he might not be the only prisoner in the box. I had a most unsatisfactory interview with Don Piero Soderini, president of the council. He refused his to change his plea. That is right, Don Piero. But it is the express desire of King Louis XII of France that Alfredo plead innocent of the murder of Emilia de Farli.

That if he acquitted... I understand, excellency. Something must be done immediately. Of course. It was your idea to begin with. This whole harebrained scheme to have him proclaim his guilt in order to fan the patriotic flame in Florence, wasn't it? Yes, Don Piero. So now you will get that boy to change his pleas. Do you understand? I understood only too well. But what could I say to Alfredo? The fact is, I had spun the web that trapped him originally, and I spun it too well. However, there will always be those times when appeals to the intellect are doomed to failure.

That is when we must think of other parts of the human organism. Once again, I asked for an escort, and we rode across the city to the Church of the Santa Croce. A beautiful place where all the famous are entombed. Why have you brought me here? To look at immortality, Alfredo. Immortality? Which you avidly desire. Well, where is it? Look about you. Underneath all these beautifully carved marble stones are tombs, and we walk on them. See, the inscriptions, all the mighty names of Italy. Medici, Sforza, Borgia, Orsini, Dante d'Aligueri. All of them are immortal here.

This is immortality. Is this what you want? Yes. Yes. It's so cold, but it's beautiful. Come with me. Well, this is where, this is the home of Mona Caterina. Come, let us dismount. Why have you brought me here? We shall go this way, around the side, to the beautiful gardens. Mona, my Mona Caterina. Hurry, hurry. See, the garden. Isn't it just the way you remembered it? Ah, how could I forget? At the church you saw, you felt the damp, cold chill of immortality. I have brought you here so that you may feel the sweet, warm breath of mortality.

Caterina, is she here? Is she here? What shall it be, my young hero? A cold tomorrow under the floor of Santa Croce? Or a warm today in the arms of Mona Caterina? Here, in the quiet, lovely, private bower, where she comes to you? Decide. It wasn't really a difficult decision, nor did it take very long. I went home feeling quite pleased with myself. I had saved my career, and possibly my freedom, if not my life, when a summons came to appear before Don Piero. Now what? Niccolo, you must do it all over again. Do what, Your Highness?

We have just received word. General Borgia is incensed. He feels we have broken our word in his afraid Petrucci matter. He wants him to hang. But King Louis wants him to go free. Borgia is even now en route to Florence with an army of 10,000 men. King Louis is too far away to be of any use to us. Niccolo, you were right. We must fend the flames of patriotism. Only the Florentines can now defend Florence. Yes, Don Piero. And so, to fling this challenge in Borgia's face, we must have Alfredo proclaim that he killed Borgia's henchmen.

Yes, sir. I... I am aware that this may present you with a certain amount of difficulty, but I have every confidence in your powers of persuasion. And so, without thinking, I went to Mono Caterina's Palazzo. I say without thinking, because if I had stopped to think, I may very well have gone mad. When I arrived there, I took young Alfredo, who was fresh-faced and filled with love and joy, aside. Niccolo, I find you're a man of unusual wisdom. Thank you. You are always worth listening to. Then listen to this. Do you remember what I told you about immortality?

Oh, yes, how could I ever forget? Well, then... Niccolo, this message just arrived from the council that is marked urgent. Thank you, Caterina. Will you excuse me, my friends, for a moment? I broke the seal, the great red seal of the council. The letter was written by... by Don Piero himself. Miserere Niccolo Machiavelli, please be advised that Cesare Borgia was killed this morning in an ambush set up by rebellious units of his own contortieri. Thus, the tyrant perishes, and the matter of the murder of Emilio De Folli can be allowed to sink into oblivion. The council thanks you for your dedicated efforts in this affair, and has decided to award you with a richly deserved holiday.

Why not spend the next few days with your beautiful new bride, Mona Marietta? Messeri Nicola. Nicola? Oh, yes? That was good news, I hope. Oh, yes, yes, of course. You were about to talk to me on the subject of immortality. Oh, that. Don't worry about it. Concentrate on mortality, especially in secluded places in a lovely garden. Ah. And do you have such a place in your gardens? No. But I'm on my way home right now to build one. And you can believe that he did, because Niccolo Machiavelli was a man who enjoyed all the delights life had to offer.

Yes, we live once, he said. And whatever joys we miss, we miss forever. But you won't miss me. I shall be back shortly. The principles that Machiavelli developed do not represent his own personal feelings, which when he allowed himself to express them were rather generous. Rather, they emerged from what he saw. He lived among the powerful, and his writings merely reflect their actions. And of course, when he says that those who rule are unaware of morality and responsive only to expediency, who can prove him wrong? Our cast included Gordon Gould, Mandel Kramer, Russell Horton, and Joyce Gordon.

The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. And now, a preview of our next tale. Oh, Phyllis, what do you want? Maybe just to know who I'm talking to. Is this really Dr. Hall, internist, endocrinologist, research fellow in a welter of medical, technical terms, I don't understand? Or is this just fun-loving Gary, who has sexual appetites and it'll quite satisfy? I don't know what you're talking about, Phyllis, but really I wish... If you know exactly what I'm talking about, I want you to fire that so-called female doctor who was sharing your research lab these last two months and come on home.

Phyllis, be reasonable. Dr. Thurston is invaluable to me. I've had it. You march to my tomb, or I'll bring our house of cards down around our ears. I could kill her. Why do you jump every time she pulls the string? Oh, I'm brainwashed. There's nothing else I can do. Why don't you get rid of her? This is EG. Marshall inviting you to return to our Mystery Theater for another adventure in the macabre. Until next time. Do you… do you feel that… in the air? It's something I haven't experienced in a long time. But I can't quite put my finger to it.

Hmm… oh, don't… don't bind me. I'm being rude. Let me get you a hot cup of tea to enjoy. I… what is that? It's something… in the air. Something fresh. That's unusual. Perhaps it's… oh, wild oranges. One week from tonight, October 5th, You Bet Your Life, starring Groucho Marx, will be heard at this time over most of these same CBS stations. We offer you Escape, starring Van Heflin. Escape, designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. You are trapped in the dank darkness of a ruined plantation house.

Somewhere in the pitch black room is a homicidal maniac armed with a knife, groping for you, trying to prevent your escape. Tonight, with Van Heflin as John Wolfock, we escape to a deserted sandpit off the coast of Georgia, where terror stalks under the Spanish moss, as Joseph Hergesheimer tells it in Wild Oranges. What could have appeared more innocent of danger than that barren, low-lying shore of southern Georgia? What could have seemed less laden with terror than that lovely little cove, so tranquil and well sheltered, so warmly bathed in late afternoon sun as we dropped the anchor of our catch and prepared our mooring?

And yet there was something. First it was an aroma, a grove of wild orange trees in late bloom, grew defiantly amid the tangled undergrowth of the shore. The scent was strong and exotic and heady. And as I smelled it, I felt a vague uneasiness. Then as I watched the shore and halved my sailor and furl the sails, the mirror of the cove was shattered by a movement. At first I thought it was a fish leaping and playing in the water, came round a spit of land from an inner bay, and then halved was beside me.

That's queer, sir. I would have bet there was nobody within miles of here, but that's someone swimming. Yes, it's a girl. Aye, sir. You'll be surprised when she discovers us, no doubt. And embarrassed. Fishy swims well, doesn't she? Yes, sir. She had been born in the water. Oh, she's seen us. Yes, yes. Now she's running away. That's Brentwood when in an Olympic race, huh? Yes, sir. I wonder what she's doing here, where she comes from. Perhaps there, sir. Where? Through the trees. There's a house there. You can hardly see it. I spotted it a moment ago.

Yes, sir, there is. But it's a ruin. It's rotting away. No one could have lived in that since the Civil War. There may be others back there, sir. I know, but this is a deserted coast. It's marked as a swamp on the chart. I don't know, sir. Sir, this is strange. It's very strange. Yes, it was strange, and stranger still was this vague uneasiness that I felt. As twilight fell, the aroma of the wild orange juice was overwhelming, and suddenly, without knowing why, I slipped on my jacket and went to the side and dropped into the tender.

Halbert stood by to cast off. He asked no questions and I said nothing. What could I say? I didn't know myself why I was going. I pulled the tender up on the soft sand of the beach and walked up a dim path through the orange grove. Around the side of the house where a smaller portico held off the weeds, a single doorway was framed in the pale light of the inner lamp. As I approached, I saw a shadow flit across it so swiftly, so furtively, that it was gone before I realized it had been a man.

And then I saw her sitting on the portico, rocking softly in her chair. What do you want? Oh, nothing. I came ashore. I thought no one was living here. You're from the white boat that sailed in its sand? Yes, and I'm returning immediately. It was like magic. Suddenly, without a sound, you were anchored in the bay. I've robbed you too. I picked a couple of your oranges. You won't like them. They've run wild. We can't sell them. They have a distinct flavor. I should be very glad to have some of them on the boat. All you want.

Well, my man will get them and pay you. Please don't. Nicholas attends to that. Won't you sit down? My father was here when you came up, and he went in. Strangers disturb him. I should be getting back. I'm sorry to have disturbed you and your father. No, it's nothing. Well, good night, then. Good night. And that was all. A fragment of commonplace conversation, but it was enough. Now the uneasiness, I felt, the strangeness of this place took shape for me. I saw it in her lovely, fragile face. I heard it in her voice. There had been a hidden terror, a terrible controlled fright that approached hysteria.

When I got back to the boat, Halvard made it even worse. Find anything, sir? There are people living there. Well, there'll be water then. Maybe we can stay here for a couple of days. What do you mean? This is good anchorage. I'd like to unship the propeller and there's some scraping to do. Yes, I suppose you're right. We need a couple of days of work before we head into the open sea. Yes, sir. We'll do it here. And so we stayed. In the light of morning, the strange dread I had felt seemed foolish, and especially when I went ashore and found the girl looking young and fresh and fragile.

She was fishing off a little pier in the inner bay. She had a pathetic little rod and reel, and so I got our tackle from the boat and landed a big rockfish for her, enough for several dinners. We were carrying the fish to the house when we came on a pale thin ghost of a man who was sitting on the portico. He started a swift retreat, but it was too late. Father, wait. This is my father, Litchfield Stope. Oh, how do you do, sir? Mary, you know I... I'm a stranger. Father, you know I wouldn't bring anyone to the house who would hurt us.

And, see, we're fetching you a splendid rock fish. Yes. Just so we're alone here, the man is away. My daughter and I, the fish, is acceptable. If you'll carry it in for me. Nicholas would do it, but he's away. Father isn't strong. This way. We have no ice. I must put it in water. In here, right there. Thank you. You've been very nice. Now, I suppose, you'll go on across the world? Why, not tonight. We're staying here making repairs. Where do you come from? Where are you going? From Cape Cod. I'm going to South America.

South America. I traveled on maps. I was born here in this house. I've never been 50 miles away. You seem like a girl who's been everywhere, everywhere in the world. You had the best education, everything. My father has many books in there, that's all. You're, uh... You know, your eyes are remarkable. They're magnetic. I, uh... Well, there's something else in your eyes and in your voice. What is it? Fear? Fear? Why, no, of course not. What should I be afraid of? Well, I don't know, but I saw it in your father's face, too. It's only your imagination.

Yes. No doubt. Well, goodbye, then, and thank you for the fishing. I tried to resist, but that evening, I found myself going back to her, tying the tender to the little pier. I watched her as she came to meet me. I'm glad you came. Let's stay here by the seats. So lovely in the moonlight. All right. That is nice, isn't it? Nicholas is back. Nicholas? He's our man. I lied to you today about fear. I suppose I am afraid. I suppose my father's passed some of his fear on to me. Why is he afraid? Well, it's a long story, going back to the first war.

He was a young man then, and he didn't go to war. It wasn't that he was a coward exactly. He just couldn't adjust to it mentally. People laughed at him and threatened him. And that's when the sort of, sort of, perpetual fear started. He ran away, got my mother married, and they came here. None of us has ever left this lonely place. Never will, perhaps. Your mother? She's dead. Loneliness killed her. Perhaps it's no wonder that I sound timid and afraid. Perhaps I am. Aren't you lonely, too? I don't know anything else. But what about you?

Who are you that you go sailing about the world with only a sailor for company? No, I'm nobody. My name is John Wolfock. And you do nothing but sail about the world? Nothing, nothing. Oh, well, let's say that I don't like modern society. Let's say that I don't like entanglements. I see. Oh, no, no, I didn't mean that. I didn't apologize. I envy you, your freedom. I sit here a great deal and watch the ships far out there on their water roads. You are enviable, sailing where you like, safe and free. Safe, free. There's something more than you've told me.

There's more behind this fear in your voice. No. Look, perhaps I can help if you. No, no, please. What's that? It's Nicholas blowing on the conch. I've got to go in. Wait a minute. I'll come with you. No, no, please. No, don't come. You'll... You'll be going soon? Tomorrow, perhaps. Then... Goodbye. Goodbye. Now I knew the terror that I had only sensed was real. This girl was possessed by fear. This house held some terrible secret. What... What could it be? Next morning, Halford went in to fill a cask for water. He came back without the cask, and he was livid with rage.

There's an idiot in that house, sir. Next time, I'll take the pistol. What do you mean? Where's the cask? It's broken, sir. How? How did you... I was filling it at the cistern, and this idiot, a huge, hulking brute, came out of the house. He told me to get away. Well, I tried to explain we had permission, but he came at me with a knife, gibbering. He put his foot on the cask and crushed it. Well, I'll see about this. Be careful, sir. The man's not quite right. He's dangerous. Plenty dangerous. I went ashore and around at the back door of the house, merely wasn't in sight.

When I knocked, a lumbering giant with pig-like eyes came to the door. Are you Nicholas? What do you want? Well, I take it you're the man who broke my water cask. It was full of our water. I'm not going to argue with you. I came ashore to instruct you to keep your hands off of my property and my sailor. And let our water be. I told you that I wouldn't discuss the water. I don't have to justify myself to you. Just remember, keep your hands off. Don't get me started. What do you mean, started? I don't care what you do.

Don't get me started. Mine now I want it. Don't get me started. Put down that knife. Go away. Don't get me started now. Go away. Stand back. Don't get me started. Nicholas. Nicholas, stop. What is this? What's the matter? Well, nothing. Nicholas and I had a little misunderstanding, that's all. You tell this man. Tell him to go. Don't get me started. Nicholas, put down that knife. Mr. Wolfe, please. Please go. I have never seen such terror in a woman's eyes. I felt completely helpless as I turned. I went on back to the boat, but mingled with her terror, I had seen something else in Millie's eyes.

There was a plea, and I knew there'd be another meeting between me and Nicholas. That night, a storm broke, a raging wind and rain to match my tortured mood. I hardly slept. Millie's face was always before my eyes, and by morning I knew that I must do something. I rode the tinder in through a drizzling rain and went up through the orange grove and stopped in some bushes by the house. Someone was coming out of the house, so I crouched down out of sight. It was Millie. I rose and I called to her. Millie! Oh, oh, it's you.

I was just coming out to look. I was afraid you'd gone out to seize like a pack of wolves. I won't go alone. Now, you, not without you, I won't. What are you saying? That's madness. No, no, I've got to talk to you. There's a lot, there's a lot that needs explaining. Things that I have a right to know. No, no, not here. Come. She led me into one of the smaller ruined buildings we crouched far back in the dripping shadows of a corner. No. Millie, for the first time in 12 years, I'm living again.

Darling, I'm in love with you. I know nothing of love. It's quickly learned. Millie, don't you feel anything, anything from me at all? I don't know. Perhaps if things were different someplace else, I might care very much. But I'm going to take you away someplace else. I'm going to make things different. I'm going to give you a chance. No, it's too late. Why? You came too late. Why? Millie, what is this? What is this fear? Nicholas. Oh, that's foolish. He's nothing to be afraid of. Has he been bothering you? He says he's crazy about me.

He says I must marry him. Where is he now? Oh, no, John, you mustn't. Something frightful would happen, John. Not frightful. Just unfortunate for Nicholas. But you don't understand. He's not human. There's something about him. What about him? Tell me. He came here in April. We were glad to get him. Serving is impossible to get back here in the wilderness. He'd work for the smallest wages. Only a few days ago I found out why he was glad to be here. I was cleaning his room and I found this. Let me see that. Wanted for murder, Isaac Nicholas, a homicidal maniac.

He knows I've found it. He knows and he's been furious. And then you came and he ran and hid in the pines. But he told me if I spoke about him, it would happen to me. And if I left with you, it would happen to father. Now he thinks I'm in love with you. He told me to send you away. He said you must leave today. Millie, Millie, I should have realized this. I'm not to stay away for longer than now. I must go, John. Look, Millie, it'll take us a couple of hours to get our boat ready.

I'm going to come for you tonight at eight. Now you tell him that you saw me and I promised to go. Act quietly. Say that you were upset, that you'll give him his answer tomorrow. Then at eight, you bring your father and walk out to the wharf. Now that's all, but do it without hesitation or preparation. Don't let him hurt us. Please don't. Not now. He's finished, but do just as I say. It won't be long, hardly three hours, and then you're going to be free. Now that I knew, now that there was to be action, I felt better.

Not that I minimized the risk. Halvard and I got the catch ready for sailing. At eight o'clock, Halvard and I tied up to the little pier. The storm had let up a little, but it was still raining. I got up on the dock and I waited for Millie. Ten minutes passed, and then twenty. Something was wrong. I told Halvard to wait there with a tender. Then I walked slowly up to the house. It was dark. I went up to the side portico, to the heavy door. There was a tiny crack of light showing under it.

II pushed it open. The light came from a parlor to the right. I looked in. On the floor lay a body, her father. He was dead. He was crushed. His arm twisted grotesquely under him. There was... there wasn't a sound in the house. Slowly, I walked through the downstairs rooms. Nothing. Then, back in the hall, I heard a slight creak. Upstairs, someone had moved. Was it Milly, alive? Or... was it Nicholas Lang and Wade? I groped slowly up the stairs. I didn't dare to use my flashlight. It would have made me a target for his knife.

The upstairs hall was pitch black. Still, there was no sound. I inched my way along the wall, slowly. And then... I stumbled on a loose board. The pistol flew out of my hand, but the stumble saved my life. At the same instant, I felt Nicholas lunge. Heard the knife sing past my ear and thud into the wall. I felt his great bolt smashing on my shoulder. My gun was somewhere on that dark floor. His knife was embedded in the wall. Now we were grappling hand in hand, rolling on the floor, kicking, tearing, gouging, crushing. My strength had went against the massive bulk of a maniacal killer.

How many minutes did that unusual and unequal struggle last? I don't know. It seemed an hour. Several times as if by common consent, we rested for a minute at a time. Once we rolled apart, my panting, my breath aching in my throat. And then I heard him groping along the wall, searching for the knife or gun. I threw myself at him again. He was too big. He was too furious. I felt my strength ebbing away. His fingers were closing over my throat with one last effort. I tried to throw him off to roll him over.

Staggered to my feet, I was dazed, I... We had fallen through the banister down the stairwell. Nicholas had landed on the bottom. He lay there on the stairs, sprawled his head at us I saw. a grotesque angle. He wasn't dead. He's only stunned. I leaned against the wall, looking at him stupidly. There was something that I must remember. What was it? Then she came down the steps, and I remembered. Milly. I had to walk right past him. There was no other way. Right past his head and my skirt. I think we better go away. Oh, yes, yes, we'll leave at once.

I must tell you about my father. You know, in Virginia, the women tied an apron on the door because he wouldn't go to war, and that preyed on his mind. He was afraid of the slightest thing. Yes, yes, I know, but we must go. Things upset him so he had no strength. To hear a talk like this, like a sick child, was almost more than I could bear. Then I heard something. Nicholas had got up. He stood up and stared at us for a moment, and then he started slowly up the stairs. He was going after that knife.

The least little thing upset him. Millie, Millie, look, we've got to go. I wish to meet a man. We were going away some place where it would be peaceful. But Nicholas suspected, you see. He asked why father had put on his heavy winter clothes. Then when I tried to go out, he pushed me. Millie, please. And do you know what father did to him? He came up and said, don't do that. Take your hands off my daughter. His lips shook a little. But he said it. That's the important thing. Yes, of course. Your father was a brave man, after all.

But please, now, come. You were supposed to meet a man. That man's waiting for you. There's no time to lose. My father said, take your hands off my daughter. Nicholas killed him, of course. But it was a brave thing to do. Yes, yes. Now, come. I couldn't wait any longer. I could hear Nicholas coming back. I picked her up and carried her out into the night, down the path to the pier. Behind me, I could hear Nicholas crashing through the brush like a giant animal in pursuit. Are you all right, sir? Yes. I'm about done in, but I'm all right.

Here, help me. Help me get her into the boat. Yes, sir. There. There's someone coming, sir. It's Nicholas. He's got a knife. Good. I wanted to get back at him. You get in, sir. I'll take care of him. All right, Albert. I wouldn't be much help anyway. Albert went to intercept Nicholas on the path. I heard them meet and struggle for a moment, and then a figure came walking slowly, stooped onto the pier. I got ready to shove the boat out into the water, and then... It's all right, sir. It's me. Albert, where's Nicholas? I stopped him.

He was all pumped out. Are you hurt? It was just a scratch, sir. I missed his hand at first in the dark. It's nothing. Good. Well, let's get away from here, then. I held Millie in my arms as Albert rode to the catch. Erratically, I suppose, because of the storm, we're ready to cast off in two minutes. The last obstacle would be the narrow passage out of the cove. In this storm, it would be very dangerous. I started to take Millie into the cabin. No! There's Nicholas in the doorway! No, nonsense. Nicholas is dead. You're on my boat.

You're safe, Millie. With John Wolfer? I am John Wolfer. But he... you didn't come. Yes, I came, Millie. You're safe. Please come. I'd rather stay up here. All right, all right. You sit here beside Halford. I'm going up front to take soundings. In this wind, you won't be able to hear me if I call, sir. No, but you can hear me. Remember, we only have three clip clearance. Now, you will have to hold it steady through that passage. Yes, sir. Halford, now, this is no time to be brave. How do you feel? I feel all right, sir.

I've taken nines before. All right. That's a scratch. All right, fine. No, no, we'll fix it just as soon as we get outside. Right now, let's go. Pull up your anchor and turn over the entrance. Yes, sir. The boat headed into the tearing wind of the storm straight toward the narrow inlet. A foot too far on either side and we'd hit. In this sea, that would mean death for all of us. I stood far up on the bow, taking soundings, feeling out the passage. The howling wind carried the call back to Halvard. Now the boat veered again.

I realized that he must have lost an awful lot of blood. Halvard! Steady air! Slowly, haulingly, it came around. Three and a half! Steady now! But it was anything but steady. The boat wavered and swung as if an inexperienced hand was at the wheel. In the moment we might hit... Three and a quarter! We were in the passage. Hold steady, Halvard! Steady! Three and a half were through. Good boy, Halvard! Good boy! Good boy, Halvard, I called. But when I went back, it wasn't Halvard at the wheel. It was Millie. Millie, her hands steady, her eyes washed clear of any madness.

Millie with a little tight smile on her face, but no fear. And Halvard lay rolling with his swells in the bottom of the cockpit. I'm afraid, John, he was wounded worse than you thought. Oh, Howard, good heavens. He told me to take the wheel, said it was life or death, and then he slid down like this. When was this? Back there in the passage, just when you said three and a half. I'm afraid I wasn't very good, but I held on. Oh, Millie, you were wonderful. No, no, not yet, but I'll learn, John. I'll learn.

Escape was produced and directed by Gordon T. Hughes. With Van Heflin starring as John Wolfolk, tonight we have presented Wild Oranges by Joseph Hergesheimer, adapted for radio by John Dunkle. Featured in the cast were Betty Lou Gerson, Bill Conrad, Edmund McDonald, Wilms Herbert. Special music was conceived and conducted by Del Castillo. Next week, you are following a man whom you must kill to the bleak wastes of the tiny island at the bottom of the world. And you know that one of you can never escape from this place. Next week, we escape with John Russell's grim story of revenge, the Primitive.

Good night, then, until next week, when once again we offer you Escape. Van Heflin is currently starring with Jennifer Jones, James Mason and Louis Jourdan in Metro Golden Mayor's Madame Bovary. Starting one week from next Saturday, October 8th, Escape will take a regular place in the CBS Saturday Night schedule. That's one week from next Saturday, October 8th, Escape. Next week at this time, you will hear CBS's latest addition to its fine Wednesday night shows. You bet your life starring Groucho Marx. This outstanding comedy quiz highlighted by Groucho's fast ad-libs, has won a Peabody Award in the High Place in America's Comedy Favorites.

Next Wednesday, it joins the parade on CBS, where it will be heard along with the Bing Crosby Show and Burns & Allen on most of these same CBS stations. Stay tuned now for the Bing Crosby Show, which follows immediately over most of these same stations. The Bing Crosby Show Paul Masterson speaking. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. My dear. Isn't it incredible? It almost, almost feels like being out on a cool evening. Only when... So, down below, walls, a foot thick on every side, cold to the touch no matter the time of year, but why dwell when we can frolic in a way?

Because one of the great things about Harvest is that it's what allows us to live, but also what allows us to arrive at comeuppance, and sometimes it all feels like a needle in a haystack. Auto Light and its 98,000 dealers bring you Mr. William Holden in tonight's presentation of Suspense. Tonight, Auto Light presents a true story taken from Captain Walter Kerrig's Battle Report Korea, the facts concerning the United States Navy's mine clearing operations in Wonsan Harbor in October 1951, Needle in the Haystack, our star, Mr. William Holden. Hi, Hap, will you have a cigarette? Oh, no, thanks, Harlow, I prefer my own brand.

Hey, did you ever think about all the people who feel like you do about cigarettes, but on something that has to do with the safety and performance of their car, they take a substitute and don't know the difference? Oh, what do you mean, Harlow? Well, for example, many makes of cars have Auto Light electrical systems as original equipment, right? But if replacements are needed, do the owners of those Auto Light equipped cars insist on Auto Light original service parts exactly the same as those specified by the car manufacturer? Well, I sure would, Harlow. I wouldn't take a chance on any part not designed to do the job right.

And you're wise, Ham. Friends, selecting a cigarette is a matter of taste. But selecting a replacement part for your car's electrical system is a matter of safety and performance. So for safe, smooth, efficient operation, insist on Auto Light Original Service Parts for your Auto Light equipped car. They're available at your car dealer's or nearest authorized Auto Light Service Station. And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light. And now, Auto Light presents, transcribed the true story of the United States Navy's actions in Wonsan Harbor in October 1951, Needle in the Haystack, starring Mr.

William Holden, hoping once again to keep you in suspense. During the last war, we never tried to sweep even a small harbor with less than 30 sweepers. At Okinawa, for instance, we used 100. At Normandy, 300. And at good old Wonsan, as big or bigger than any of them, we started in with 10. Attention, men. Captain Spofford. Carry on, smoking lamps lit. Make yourselves comfortable. The correspondents are beginning to call those ships out there the fleet that came to stay and stay and stay at sea. Well, I agree with you. It isn't a very good joke.

Nothing funny about 250 ships steaming around in circles waiting to get into Wonsan Harbor. Our job is to make sure they do get in. Oh, Commander, the map. Yes, sir. You men on the port want to get in closer. Oh, yes, sir. Now, here, between the fleet and the shore, mines. We don't know what kind of mines, but we do know that all of these anchorages and approaches will have to be swept clear. Sir? Well, yesterday would have been a good time to have the job finished. We have 20,000 troops packed into space and it would be close quarters for half as many.

That kind of thing isn't very good on the nerves. Matter of fact, those marines who are calling this Operation Yo-Yo, they may have something of that. Right now, they're as effectively out of combat as if they were still training in North Carolina. Gentlemen, our assault sweep into One Sound Harbor will commence at 0630. And that's the way it started. Assault Sweep. Definition? An assault sweep is just a polite, official gobbledygook for busting through a minefield in spite of anything. Few notes here about mines. They're different kinds. A contact mine floats on top of the water and explodes when it touches a ship.

And there's another kind that just sits on the bottom and gets triggered by a ship's magnetic field. Magnetic mines. And if you don't like those, try yourself an acoustic mine. And it detonates from a ship's vibration. Or there's a pressure mine that just goes off when a ship passes above it. And if you aren't satisfied with the way they blow up, there just might be a couple of guys on the beach controlling all of them with an electric cable. Oh yeah, one more thing. For every kind of mine, there's a different sweeping operation. So go sweep mines.

What's the count? We've swept 21 mines so far, sir. No casualties. That's encouraging. Now let's see, we're in here. That means we've already cleared a channel 3,000 yards wide. From the 100 Fathom Curve to the 30 Fathom Curve. We may get those Marines in action sooner than we expected, if this keeps up. Helicopters are a big help, sir. Well, it's something new in minesweeping, flying low ahead of the lead sweep. Sir? Yeah. It's the pilot's radio, sir. I think he spotted something. Give me those phones. Yes. Sharply angled mine line directly ahead of lead sweep.

Another line just beyond that. Another. Another. Order that lead sweep to come about. Aye, aye, sir. The pilot had found five mine lines inside the 30 Fathom curve. And with only ten sweepers working, that was a little more than we'd bargained for. We didn't lose any shipping that first day, but we didn't get an inch closer to Wansan. The day we tried something else that was new in mine sweeping. A fly-fly boy spaced off at 600-yard intervals and came roaring in at 1,500 feet, loaded with bombs and rockets. Object? To try and blast a channel for the sweepers.

It was quite a sight. A five-mile column of airplanes dropping their goodies into the water on time signals. I've just reported that the aerial counter-mining operation is complete. It's up to us to find out whether or not it worked the hard way. Courses 2-4-8, speed 8 knots, proceed as planned. Lieutenant Hyatt aboard the Pirate, sir. We are proceeding as ordered. The Pirate was the lead ship in the formation. The whole fleet watched as she edged out and headed for the waters that had been raked by the planes. Not far behind came the Pledge and the Incredible and the Redhead, all trailing their sweeping gear, all anxious to get a job done.

One at a time, they turned to pass between the islands. We are now entering unswept waters. Will it work, sir? I hope so. If there are any mines in those waters, the bombs and rockets should have done some good. Yeah. Well, we'll know in a minute, son. We lost the pirate in the pledge that day. Aerial countermining had been an experiment, another good idea that didn't work. Information learned, there's no shortcut to minesweeping. Thank you, sir. For the last 20 hours, the fleet commander has been asking, can we land as scheduled? Can we land tomorrow?

If not tomorrow, when? I know, sir. I can't answer him till I get some answers myself. We know their influence, mines, but we don't know what kind, magnetic contact or what. Or what kind of magnetic contact. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know what, or how many, or where they're placed. We gotta have this information so we'll know how to sweep. And so I can give the fleet commander an accurate answer. You all set? All set, sir. Good luck, Don. Thank you, sir. All right, sailor, shab-a-l. Aye, aye, sir.

Hold the course. Holding the course, sir. Beg pardon, sir. Yeah? How far in can we go, sir? Until we get to the end of those marked lines, I'll swim it from there. Does it always go like this? I mean, we've tried about everything to get those ships into the harbor. Nothing seems to work. It's that way sometimes. How long you been in the Navy, son? Well, this is my first time out, but 18 months now, sir. What did you do before that? High school. Sir, could I ask how long you've been in the Navy? Well, I started out as a seaman.

Let's see. 20 years now. That's a good long time, sir. Have you always been looking for things? I mean, minesweepers. 14 years of it. Okay, cut them. Aye, aye, sir. When I'm clear, take her back and follow the cans. Yes, sir. Well, so long. Good luck, sir. It took me a half an hour to swim the rest of the way. A couple of times, my legs brushed against the mines, moored no more than two feet below the surface. When I finally got onto shore, there was a welcoming committee waiting for me. About 12 Korean fishermen.

You speak any English? Did you hear me? Do you speak any English? I say, do any of you speak English? Yankee. Yankee, that's right, I'm a Yankee. Do you speak English? Fish, me, fish. Yeah, yeah, you're a fisherman. And maybe you can help me get the information I need. I'm from that ship out there, understand? In order to land all those boats, we have to find out what kind of mines are in these waters. Where they're located, how many. Can you tell me anything about them? Can you tell me who laid them? Do you understand?

Men who lay mines in the water. Yeah, yeah, that's it. It took a lot of men and boats to mine that whole area. The commies had to have help. Now, who helped them? The Sampan men, all the Sampan men help. The soldiers, they help. The soldiers made the Sampan boats help, huh? Well, then, a Sampan skipper can tell me what I want to know. Where can I find one? What? No tell anything. Soldiers kill all Sampan men. Auto Light is bringing you Mr. William Holden in Needle in the Haystack, The True Story of the United States Navy's Operations in Wonsan Harbor in October 1951.

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William Holden, in Elliot Lewis's production of Needle in the Haystack, a true report, well calculated to keep you in suspense. What kind of minds are sinking our ships? How many? Where are they? All tough questions, and tougher to answer. A Wonsan fisherman said there was no such thing. All the answers had been killed off. I tried another source, Rock Headquarters in the friendly city of Wonsan. Commander De Forest? Yes. Lieutenant Ching, sit down, please. Thank you. Sorry to have kept you waiting. It has been busy here. Yes, I noticed. They leave slowly. They seem to.

We'd like to speed that up a little bit. I know. You want to get those ships in the harbor. What can I do? Well, you can find me a Sam Fan boat skipper who knows all about the mine laying job. You have been to the waterfront? Yes, I have. Then you know that all who helped have been killed or taken away. I thought there might be one someplace. 25 miles north of here, there is supposed to be a mining depot they use. Well, maybe we can find out something there. They are still out there. You realize, huh?

And I have to take that risk. Can I get some kind of transportation? We have a jeep. Good. Now, any chance of borrowing somebody as an interpreter? I am as anxious as you are to secure this harbor. I will go with you, Commander. Sing was dog-tired and nervous and a little trigger-happy. As we drove over the roughest road in North Korea, he sat with a pistol and a rifle ready to handle anything. About 15 miles out of one sound, we came to a village, a place of about 1,000 people or so. When they heard the sound of our motor, they scattered in all directions.

By the time we pulled to a stop, there wasn't a soul in sight, except a little girl about five years old. Well... Hey, wait. Where are you going? We were questioned. No, no. Let's try this little lady with the muddy face first. Hey, Charles? Kids are the same all over the world. At least I think they are. Come on. Leave that rifle here. It is not... Okay. Hello there, honey. What's your name? You ask her, scene. John Guy Peek. I guess she's a little scared. John Guy Peek. No, don't ask her anymore. She's as scared of you as she is of me.

I have something here for you, honey. Here. Here. Candy for you. Go ahead, take it. Here. For you, honey. Well, at least the candy was a hit. This is no way to handle these people, Commander. What do you want to do, Singh? Start pumping bullets into them? They have no flag above the village. We do not know whether they are friendly or not. We are taking unnecessary chance. We do not like it. Something should happen pretty soon. Over there. Get your hand off that sidearm. Maybe that can be work. The old gent is coming over to us.

Singh. What? You know how to smile? We'll do it now. What does he want us to do? He wishes us to follow him. Over there. The wooden house. Looks like some kind of meeting hall. Well, come on. It might not be advisable. Nothing's happened to us yet. The whole place is sure turning out to see what's what. They see my rifle in the jeep. Can you get any of that? Not much. Something about a stranger. No guns or swords on the walls. It must be friendly. They do not count on it, Commander. He wants us inside.

Then inside we go. Now what? The boss man of the village. This oldest son joined the Communist Party. He killed his mother and two sister because they no join. He tried to kill me, but failed. What you want? I'm not here to hurt anyone, sir. I'm a member of the UN forces that have come to North Korea to help restore this country. But before that, I need your help, sir. UN? Yes, United Nations. The war has changed many things. Yesterday, it seemed the Communists might win. Today, the UN. Tomorrow, my people know not. We must speak before we decide to help.

They had a council meeting, and everybody who was anybody in the village got in on it. They discussed how we'd come in, why we were there, and what we wanted. And most of all, the candy bar I had given to the little girl. In the end, the candy bar won. The old man with his black robe and white beard said that they would give us any help that we needed. Then he gave another order, and a few minutes later, a group of men brought in a tall, rangy-looking character who didn't like it one bit. What's all this?

I do not know. The man's name is Sand Heath. And see you next week. What's that sound? He is telling the man he will not be harmed. He is giving him his word. Talk to Sonny, the only one left alive. And escape. Is this Sand Heath, sir? Yes. He helped Russian friend's mind make mind. What's that? Sand Heath. Them fan men. Oh, the par-junks pull the sanpans loaded with mines. Sometimes the junks lay their mines in a curve. When that happened, the sanpans' keeper was shot. Ask him how he got away. I could fall off.

He jumped from his ship and swam ashore. He's quite a boy, isn't he? How many junks did they use? Sanpe zi pie. Does he know how many mines? It's 3,000. He knows where they are, he will show you. Well, good, we'll take you up on that, old boy. Where do you get your first ride in a helicopter over the harbor? Now for the $64 question, Singh. What kind of mines? Magnetic contact or what? Mine is a mine to him. I can do everything else. Ma Sun Chung, you are Kiroi Ipnika. Kiroi. Singh, that information is vital.

We've got to know what kind so we know how to sweep. Cigarette. Cigarette. Yonkey Cigarette. Here, have a smoke buster. You were great when you lasted. Donkey. What now? Tell him to wait here. We're going to find that mining depot we were talking about and we're going to find out what kind of mines they used. The road to the abandoned mine depot followed a narrow gauge railroad. All along the way, there were bunkers and barricades indicating that the area had been heavily guarded. Now and then, we passed campsites where communist guerrillas had recently been. Snipers fired at us from both sides of the road, but we didn't make any stops until we got to the abandoned mine depot.

When we stopped in front of the thick concrete entrances, I forgot all about the trouble we'd had in getting there and ran for the nearest one. Oh, no. Flooded. Yeah. They must have flooded it before they left. Then there's no way to find any parts, any plans that will tell you what kind of mines were assembled here. Nothing. The whole thing's a bust. Trying to find anything in that water would be like trying to find a needle in that pile of hay over there. Now, what would a pile of dry hay be doing on this upper level?

Well, I... To pack things in. To pack cartons of coils, detonating parts. Well, what do you know? Mine? You bet your life. The eye and nose of an 1800-pound magnetic mine. Magnetic? Yeah. Sing, you can tell your friends that we found a needle in a haystack. The landing was held up to allow the minesweepers to clear all channels. The beach was finally turned over to the troops, and 22,000 men went ashore in two days with no losses. Before the end of the week, the 10th Corps was ashore with 50,000 men. Operation Yo-Yo was over. The long march to the Yalu had begun.

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Autolight is proud to serve the greatest names in the industry. So, from bumper to taillight, you're always right with Autolight. The Greatest Name in the Industry Next week, it will be our pleasure to present part one of the first detective story ever written, a tale considered by many to be the greatest ever written. Wilkie Collins, The Moonstone, our star, Mr. Peter Lawford. That's next week on Suspense. Suspense is transcribed and directed by Elliot Lewis, the music composed by Lucian Morrowick and conducted by Lutte Gluskin. Needle in the Haystack was adapted for Suspense by E. Jack Newman, from Captain Walter Carey's Battle Report Korea.

Featured in tonight's cast were Joseph Kearns, Jack Prussian, Ben Wright, Steve Roberts, David Young, Burt Holland and Ted Bliss. William Holden will shortly be seen co-starring with Ginger Rogers and Paul Douglas in Paramount's new comedy, Forever Female. And remember, next week, Mr. Peter Lawford in part one of Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone. You can buy Auto Light's original service parts, Auto Light standard or resistor type spark plugs, and Auto Light's day full batteries at your neighborhood Auto Light dealers. Switch to Auto Light. Good night. This is the CBS Radio Network. My dear, how do you feel about cliches, sayings, a kind of nomenclature that's living, breathing, and dying?

I've always enjoyed that element of language. It's why I continued to choose to speak. But one of my favorites is probably, you reap what you sow. It's so true, but so simple, but so very true, especially when it's a Harvest of Death. Signal. Signal gasoline. Yes, signal gasoline is the new gasoline you can prove is superior. The Signal Oil Company and your neighborhood signal dealer bring you another curious story by The Whistler. Tonight, Harvest of Death. I am The Whistler, and I know many things for I walk by night. I know many strange tales hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows.

Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak. It wasn't a large farm, but it wasn't small either. It kept two strong men busy from sunup to sundown taking care of it. And they did a nice job because the farm prospered. Mort Grant owned the farm and lived in an awkward looking unpainted farmhouse with his wife Nellie. Jim Hayward was the hire man and lived in a spare bedroom. But actually he'd been there so long that he was more like one of the family than a hired hand. And that's what worried Mort Sanders.

Mort! You had me half to death popping in the kitchen door like that. Did I? You certainly did. I'm nervous enough without you acting like a cat chasing a mouse. I've gone and broke one of my best dishes. Hello Jim. Hello Mort. Kind of ambitious aren't you? Well I surely wish that you were a little more ambitious around the house. I could use a little help now and then. A woman's work is left to the women. Men have enough to do with their own work. Is that right Jim? Well I guess it is Mort, but Nellie looked a little tired and I thought it wouldn't hurt anything if I stepped out in the kitchen and helped her a mite with the dishes.

You should rest quiet a while after eating supper. I like to see the day when I get any rest after supper. I'm not really tired Mort. I don't mind helping out a little extra bit. Well if you don't mind, be as foolish as you want I guess. Nobody's being foolish. I think it's downright generous of Jim to want to help. You ought to help each other more around here instead of living like three hermits. I don't see you out plowing. Come on Jim, leave the old lady to her work. Hey, if you don't mind Mort, I just soon finish what I started.

No, I don't mind Jim, not at all. Suit yourself, suit yourself. Well, as I was saying, Mr. Hawley the postman calls Jim, and Jim comes striding down from the chicken coop. And Mr. Hawley tells him the good news. He'd think he'd had the baby instead of his wife. Well, then he gives Jim a cigar, and you know what Jim says? I couldn't guess. Well, he says, seen as how you're the mailman, I suppose your baby comes special delivery. Can you tie that? Well, don't you get it? Special delivery. Well, that Jim. Doesn't sound very funny to me.

If you'd said it first, you would have thought it was funny. Maybe so. But if I said it, you wouldn't have thought it was so funny. Morris Sanders, if I hadn't been married to you all these years, I'd think you was jealous. I'm not jealous. But you do seem to enjoy Jim's company to mine. I'm only your husband. All I hear from you is Jim did this, or Jim said that, or Jim says and does the funniest things. Why don't you pay attention to me once in a while? Oh, Morris. I'm running this farm and I'm tired of hearing what Jim does.

Will you do me a favor and talk about something else? You shouldn't get so angry, Mort, because anger leads to all kinds of human excesses. You might even do something you'd be sorry for later. And regret isn't worth the time you take to indulge in it because it's always too late. Of course, if you'd try to get along with Nellie a little better, you wouldn't have to worry about Jim. But you can't see that, can you, Mort? So at supper time, you're the same old Mort, suspicious and foolish. Supper ready? Not for a few minutes yet.

Jim won't be in for a while. He's working on the tractor. If he can't make supper on time, that's his tough luck. Just the same, it isn't ready, so you'll have to wait. Well, don't you notice anything different? No. Look around. Still don't see anything. What's it all about? Well, if it had teeth, it'd bite you. Over there in the corner. Bookcase. Where'd you pick up that thing? Kind of small, and it doesn't have any books in it yet. But it is pretty, isn't it? I don't know. Where'd you get it? Nice red color. I ask you, where you got it?

Well, for goodness sake, stop shouting. I can hear you. Jim made it. What'd he do that for? Well, how do I know what he did it for? I guess maybe he heard me say once that I wished I had a bookcase, and thought it would be a nice thing for him to make one for me. He did, did he? How much further is he going to go with this sort of thing? Yikes, if he was your husband instead of me. Well, Lord knows you never buy anything for me. Pinching every penny. What I do with my money is my business.

Oh, now, Mort, don't get your blood up. Why shouldn't I get my blood up? You seem to be interested in Jim more than anything else around here, even me. Every time I turn around, you're chatting with him over in a corner, or he's helping you with the dishes, or you're taking a fancy ride together into town. And if that ain't enough, every time you open your mouth, Jim pops out. Now, Mort. Don't now, Mort, me. I've had enough of it. Now, that bookcase. It's only a little gift and it is quick. Well, it won't be pretty when I get through with it.

Mort, what are you going to do? Just watch me. I don't even own a book to put in this. I don't like useless furniture cluttering up in my house. Mort, for heaven's sake, stop it. Are you going crazy? No, I'm just getting some sense. If you so much as lay a finger on that bookcase, I'll never speak to you as long as I live. Well, stop talking then because here it goes. Mort, no. There. Take a look at your fine gift from Jim now. I hate you. You'll get over it. When Jim finds out if he's half the man I think he is, he'll beat you to a pulp.

Where is he? I told you he was working on the tractor. For your information, fine lady, I'm going out and farm. I don't want any whistler working for me. Hello, Mort. Supper almost ready? Almost. I won't be able to finish this tractor tonight, I'm afraid. Turned out to be more work than I thought. The wrist pins... Never mind. Give me the wrench, Jim. You want to take a hand at it? No, but you won't be needing this wrench anymore. What do you mean? Hand it over. All right, Mort. Anything you say. Here it is. Thanks.

What's it all about? You look like you've got something serious in your mind. I just come out to tell you I won't be needing your services around here anymore. You can leave as soon as you get your things together. I'll pay it at the end of the week. Oh, you can't mean that you're firing me, Mort. That's exactly what I mean. But I don't get it. I've always worked hard. Why, I always thought of this place as sort of like home. That's a trouble, Jim. You've been acting as if you owned a farm instead of me.

Now look, Mort, if I said anything to make you mad, I'm sorry. I don't mind you taking a big interest in the farm. But when you start moving in on my wife, that's where I draw the line. Your wife? Yeah. Well, I haven't done anything to your wife. Well, Nellie and I, well, we get along. That's the trouble. You get along too well. Every time I look around, you're with her, telling her stories or taking her someplace or making something for her. And I don't like it. I don't want to see any more of it.

So get your clothes together and get out. Now look, Mort, you're talking kind of rough. I'll talk any way I want to. It's my land, my farm and my wife we're discussing. I'm sick and tired of having a dishonest wife stealing, backstabbing farmhand around here. So get out before I throw you out. Those are big words. You want some bigger ones? If you think you're big enough to say them, as a matter of fact, there's a few things I can say myself. I never worked for such a miserly, selfish old coot like you before. I won't even trust a bank with your money.

That's enough out of you, Jim. There's one more thing I always wanted to give you before I left, a punch in the nose. Stay away from me, Jim. Put him up, Mort. I'll give you a chance to back up them big words of yours. All right. You asked for it. Mort, put down that wrench. Fine, make it. I'll take it away from you. You've got the wrench all right. Jim. Jim, you'll be okay in a minute. Jim, wake up. He's dead. If we of The Whistler cast sound a bit on the excited side tonight is a good reason.

This is the 100th consecutive performance of Signal Oil Company's program, The Whistler. Because of your enthusiastic letters, Signal Oil Company has continued The Whistler without interruption even through the summer when so many programs go off the air. And month after month, The Whistler's popularity has grown until for the past eight months it has ranked tops in popularity among all West Coast programs. We of the cast want to thank you for your loyalty which has made this record possible. It's our richest incentive to keep every performance a top performance so you'll continue to tune in on the Signal Oil program each Monday night for more broadcasts of The Whistler.

And incidentally, next time you're out driving, we of the cast also hope you'll stop at one of the friendly service stations displaying signals, familiar yellow and black circle signs. Try that other great signal success, the new Signal Gasoline. There's no better way to tune in top performance for your car than with today's power-packed new super-fuel, new Signal Gasoline. And now, back to The Whistler. Well, Mort, it seems you've reaped a bigger harvest than you ever imagined. Even from the little hatred you sowed. But it's not a crop to be proud of, because it's a harvest of death.

After you killed Jim Hayward, you didn't know what to do with his body. You had to think. But thinking takes time. So after finding a temporary hiding place in the barn, deep in the soft, fragrant haymow, you turned back to the house for supper. Supper ready? It's all ready. Ta-dum. Coffee or milk? Coffee. Sit still. I'll get it. Here. What's the matter? You startled me, I guess. Where's the sugar? Where's the sugar? Well, land's sake, it's right in front of you. What's the matter? Can't you see? I didn't notice it. Well, isn't Jim coming in?

I said, isn't Jim coming in? Not right away. Well, he can't work much longer. It'll be dark in a few minutes. Taters will be cold if he doesn't come in soon. I knew you wouldn't fire him. You couldn't fire Jim, not after he's been with us all... Cut it, will you? All right, Mort. I took care of the bookcase. I finished breaking it up and I put it in the stove. When Jim comes in, I'll say, Jim, I'll say, I got some bad news for you. And I expect you can take it. Seems I fell up against the bookcase.

It wasn't very big anyhow, you know, and I broke it. Mort, you're not eating a thing. I was listening to you. It was about the first time you ever were. Jim should be in here by now. I think maybe I'll look out the window and wait for him to come in and eat his supper. Mort. What? It's getting dark and I can just barely see the tractor, but I can see hiding her hair, Jim. Can't see anything moving out there. Sit down and eat your supper. Jim's old enough to take care of himself. I suppose he's putting the tools away.

Jim's always the careful one. Mort, you're still not eating. I'm not very hungry. I bet Jim's got a big appetite tonight. Will you stop talking about Jim? Well, for heaven's sake, Mort, what's got into you? You don't have to shout like that. You're scared to live in Daylight's house. I asked you before to stop talking about Jim. I was just trying to be sociable. If you were sitting there like a mummy, your body could go crazy for something to do. If you want to know, Jim won't be having supper tonight. So you can stop waiting for him.

Why won't he have supper tonight? Because I did what I said I was going to do. You mean that you fired him? Yes, I fired him. Well, of all the selfish... Nellie, I don't want to hear one word out of you about it. It's done, that's all, and there's nothing you can do to change it. All right, Mordiff, Jim's fired. He's fired. But I don't think... Shut up. Well, at least he can have one more meal before he goes. Sandy? Jim's gone. Gone already? Yes, he's gone already. How many times do I have to say it?

Well, it seems funny he didn't say goodbye to me. He didn't even come after his clothes and things. Oh, he can't be gone yet. I told you he was gone. Gone for good. He won't be back. Did he ask you to send his clothes to him? No. Well, didn't he tell you where he was going? Look, he just left. He didn't tell me anything. Was he angry? The man who gets fired isn't exactly happy. Well, aren't you going to give him a character reference or something so that he can get a job someplace else? Where he's going a reference for me isn't worth a thing.

Oh, then you do know where he's going. You said before that you didn't. I don't know. All he said was that he thought he might go north and maybe to Canada. That's all he said. It's funny he left late in the day like this. Who'd think he'd wait until morning and get a fresh start? Can a man do what he wants with his own life without you analyzing the whole thing? I thought I knew, Jim. I thought I could tell just what he'd do. Well, you couldn't, so forget it. Well, it seems to me the whole thing's all very funny.

It's all very funny. It's eleven o'clock, Mort. Two hours past your bedtime. Mort. What? Don't you feel well, Mort? That old kidney trouble isn't starting up on you again, is it? Because if it is, we still have some of the medicine left, the stuff that Dr. Kermit prescribed. I told you I'm not sick. So stop trying to give me medicine. All right, I was just trying to be helpful, that's all. After all, I am your wife. Sometimes I wonder. Well, that's a nice thing to say. Oh, forget it. I know what's bothering you more. You do?

Yes. You fired Jim over a petty little argument, and now you're sorry. Am I? But don't you worry. If I know Jim, he'll be back bright and early in the morning, just as if nothing had happened, and you'll both be plowing up land together, just as happy as you please. Got it all figured out, haven't you? Sure. Jim couldn't stay away any more than you could have him stay away. He's just like one of the family. He probably just went into town, had a few drinks to help him forget things for a while, but he'll be back as happy and friendly as ever.

You wait and see. How many times do I have to tell you, Jim won't be back? He's gone for good. Oh, not Jim. I tell you, he's not coming back. We should stop talking about it. All right, Mort, all I can say is wait and see for yourself. Why don't you go to bed? Oh, not until you do. I'm not going to let you sit here all alone, making yourself unhappy over a little mistake. Why, good heavens, everyone makes a little mistake now and then. It's nothing to fret over. You know, just the same, I miss Jim already myself.

Oh, it used to be comforting to watch him sit in the rocking chair, rocking back and forth, just as comfortable as you please, smoking away on his pipes. Nellie, Nellie, look, the rocking chair, it's rocking back and forth. Just as if Jim were sitting there. How could it? How could it rock by itself? Well, don't get all excited more, can't you see? It's only the cat. Here, I'll chase it away if it bothers you. Cat! Cat! Hey, the chair won't rock anymore. Never liked that darn cat anyway. Now, don't go blaming anything on the poor little cat.

She probably misses Jim too. I don't miss Jim, not one bit. What makes you think I do? Well, you're sitting there like you'd lost your last friend. What's that? Somebody's coming up the stairs. Somebody's at the front door. Sit still, I'll look. Maybe it's Jim. Oh, it's only this green door banging. Heavens, you're a nervous man tonight. It was only this green door banging. I guess you forgot to hook it. Anyway, I fixed it. I'm going to bed. Well, at last. Maybe you can relax a little bit. You're so jumpy, you act as if you'd killed somebody.

Nellie comes awfully close to the truth sometimes, doesn't she, Maud? Uncomfortably close. But never mind, she doesn't really know what happened to Jim Hayward. So you go upstairs to try to sleep and forget the whole affair. Perhaps you'll even think of something to cover up your... Oh, it's you, Maud. Oh, you gave me a start. I just opened my eyes. I thought I saw somebody standing over me. What are you, sitting up in bed at this hour of the morning tour? I can't sleep. Well, just lay back on the pillow and relax. You'll go to sleep.

I can't. I tried. It's too hot or something. Want me to get up and get you some coffee or something? No, I don't want anything. Let me put the light on. Well, no wonder you're so hot. You're fully dressed. When did you do that? Got up and dressed about an hour ago. I think I was cold. What in the world got into you more? First, you're as jumpy as a thoroughbred. Then you can't sleep. Then you turn cold. And now you're too hot. Are you sure you're not sick? I told you there's nothing wrong with me.

Well, you surely must be hot. The sweat's pouring right off you. No, there's no need to get so worried about Jim that you make a nervous wreck of yourself. You'll be back, I tell you. If you mention Jim worse more to me, I'll strangle you to death. All right, Mordei. I didn't mean to get you mad, but you're beginning to worry me now. Go back to sleep. Where are you going? Mind your own business. What's he lighting that lantern for? If you gotta be so nosy, I'm going out to the barn. At this hour? Are you out of your mind?

Look, just go back to sleep and keep your nose out of my business. I won't mind my own business. Tell me where you're going. All right. I'm going out to the barn. I'm worried about something. One of the horses. What's the matter with it? I don't know, but she's been kind of sick today. I want to take a look at her. You're up to something, Morgan. It isn't a horse. What is it? Wouldn't you like to know? It took you long enough. So you're up. Well, I couldn't lie out there in bed while you're gallivanting around the farm at 3 o'clock in the morning.

Get back to bed. I put some coffee on. We might as well have a cup now that we're up. I don't want any coffee. Where's the lantern? You always have to ask them any questions. I haven't got it with me, have I? I left it in the barn. Mort, look out the window. That barn. The barn is on fire. Pretty in it. Well, do something. Don't just stand there and say you weren't enjoying it. The horses will be burned alive. There are no horses in the barn. They're all out in the pasture. Mort Sanders, you're a murderer.

Shut up. I won't shut up. Don't try to pull a wool over my eyes. I'm not so innocent as I look. I know why you couldn't eat and couldn't sleep. I know why you were cold one minute and then hot for the next. You didn't know, I knew, did you? I told you to shut up. I was looking out the window when you fired Jim. I saw you hit him with a wrench. Jim's dead and you killed him. If you ever say that again, I'll kill you. You don't frighten me. You hid Jim's body in the barn and now you're burning it to get rid of him.

You're as much a blame as I am. Jim had no right to be fooling around with my wife and you had no right to let him. At least he was human. Not a grouchy old man who wouldn't talk half the time. Get up the bed. I won't. You want to know something? I was in love with Jim and he was in love with me. We were going to run away together. And here's something else. I don't want to hear it. You want to hear this. Yesterday I took all the stocks and bonds that you'd bought with the money that you've saved in 15 years, the whole $20,000 worth.

You were too afraid to leave in a bank and I gave them to Jim. Are you telling me the truth? If you're lying, I'll kill you. I'm not lying. Jim had the oil-skin pouch with the bonds in his inside pocket when you murdered him and now they're burning up. I don't believe you. You don't believe me? Look in the steel box in the desk. You did. You did, you thief. You gave them all my bonds. I told you I did. I won't do you any good slapping me. They're burning up right now. I'll get them.

There's still time, and then I'll get you. Hurry. I'll get them. I'll get them. Don't worry. The barn. The barn will only last longer. I'll get them. There's so much smoke and fire. I can't see. I shouldn't have poured that gasoline around. It's a roof. The Whistler will return in just a moment with a strange ending of tonight's story. Meantime, because the gasoline you use has so much to do with the performance you get from your car, I think you'd be interested in knowing how a new scientific development could put amazingly increased power into that great new superfuel, new signal gasoline.

You see, science has long known that the way the atoms in gasoline molecules are arranged determines how much power you get from the gasoline. Well, in old style gasolines, the atoms were left just as nature arranged them. But recently, certain chemists found how to rearrange the atoms in gasoline molecules in an entirely new way. The result is new signal gasoline with amazing new power. Power so immediately apparent you can feel it, see it, hear it. It's because of this superior performance you can actually recognize the moment you step on the accelerator that we urge you to let one tank full of new signal gasoline talk for itself.

Let its quicker starting, faster pickup, higher anti-knock and longer mileage demonstrate in your own car why new signal gasoline actually is the new post-war gasoline you can prove is superior. And now, back to The Whistler. So, for once you listened to your wife, Mort. For once you took her advice and hurried into the burning barn, and to death. Of course, the flames lighted the night sky and brought a crowd of neighbors, but there wasn't much they could do. They stand outside the house watching the last glowing embers talking in hushed tones. But you can't hear them, can you, Mort?

It's awful. Awful. Both of them at once this way. Constable figures Mort must have gone in to try to save Jim. Jim was almost like one family, you know. Yes. What about Nellie? Is she all right? She's just sitting in there on the rock and cheered by the wind. Stunned, I guess. Oh, poor soul. I'd best go in and see if I can comfort her. Nellie. Oh, Miss Thompson. I've come to see if there's anything I can do, dear. No. It's all done now. Now try to be brave, dear. I know it's a shock, but we've got to be practical.

The men folks will build your new barn, and we'll all see that you're took care of. I'll manage somehow. Oh, of course you will. Is there something I could get you? Some hot tea, maybe? No, thank you, Miss Thompson. I'd just like to sit here a while. Well, of course, I understand. We're all so sorry about Morton, Jim, too. But everything will be all right. You just keep telling yourself that. Everything will be all right. Yes, Morton. They're all so sorry about you, and Jim, too. And Nellie, poor Nellie just sits there sniffling and rocking through the night in Jim's favorite rocking chair through the night until dawn.

Then when the last neighbor is gone, she stands up, stares out the window for a moment toward the blackened ashes, walks to the pantry shelf, takes down the coffee can and lifts the lid. Now, what do you think, Mort? Inside, wrapped in an old piece of oil skin, are $20,000 in stocks and bonds. And here's a surprise for you, Nellie. Those securities were not worth the paper they're written on. Mort wasn't a very smart investor. Now, the Whistler will bring you another strange tale. The Whistler is broadcast for your entertainment by the marketers of signal gasoline and motor oil and fine quality automotive accessories, and by your neighborhood signal dealer.

This program, directed by George W. Allen, with tonight's story by John Hayes, music by Wilbur Hatch, is transmitted to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service. This is Marvin Miller speaking, and suggesting that you try new signal. The new gasoline you can prove is superior. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. My dear, let's step away from the reaping and sowing, at least for a moment, although... I'm not sure you actually can avoid that. At least not in life. Oh, no matter. The fire is nice and hot, battling the cool air all about us.

An exhilarating feeling. The heat fighting the cold. Life fighting death. Well, I suppose it looks like we have an incident. We have a ghost in the garden. Good evening, creeps. Tonight, your mystery playhouse presents Miss Leslie Woods in An Inner Sanctum Mystery. The title, A Ghost in the Garden. Now we're at your door, Mr. Host, so open it, won't you? Good evening, friends of the Inner Sanctum. This is your host, inviting you in through the squeaking door. Come on in. Come in, join our happy little community. And if you're not very careful, maybe you can stay.

It's happened to some of our nicest people, and believe me, they've never regretted it. As they always say, it's a place to rest your bones. Remember, ours is the only community that has no taxes, no housing problems, no inflation, and no politicians. Of course, it might seem a little dead to you, but that's the idea, isn't it? Suppose we get down to brass tacks, and I do mean the ones that go around the edge of a coffin. Huh? Oh, don't sneer. I've heard better jokes myself, but remember, he who laughs last laughs best, and brother, when we in the Inner Sanctum laugh, we're laughing last.

Meet Laura, a nice girl in her thirties who had an uncle and worried about it. It was a pleasant life at Green Tower. It was pleasant being mistress of the huge time-worn house and the fertile acres that surrounded it, and the money that came in regularly, always. It was pleasant being married to Tony, who was very handsome and very gay, and who, they said, had married me for my money. Well, perhaps he had, but he was fond of me anyway. I'm sure he was, even though he was younger than I. But only a very little younger.

It was a pleasant life, until Uncle Edward came home. Tony had gone out to the village, I think, to pick up something or other. I was alone. Tony, the door is open, darling. You know I never lock it. Do you have a nice time buying things, Tony? And who, my dear daughter, is Tony? Oh, Uncle Edward. Yes, but I haven't returned from the grave, my sweet. I didn't think you had. Hello, Uncle. That welcome could very easily be warmer and still not be overwhelming. I've been away a long time. And for a change, Green Tower seems attractive.

Does it? Which is rather a pity. What do you mean? Selling it. You're not going to sell Green Tower? Oh, yes, because I need the money. Uncle, you can't sell Green Tower. Well, it's mine. Of course I can sell it. But... And who is this Tony? Tony is my husband. Oh, really? Well, my congratulations. And I take it he thinks you own Green Tower? Yes. And thinks you have money as well? Yes. Uncle, I... I thought I saw someone in the garden. Uncle, please... Be still. It's so infinitely dark out there, I can't see. Might be some burglar fellow.

He was standing with his back to the room, peering out to the garden. Uncle Edward, who had been away a long time and who had come back at last to shadow my life. He was not a very big man, my uncle. And when I came close to him, I realized that he was barely as tall as I. Uncle... I can't make out a thing. Drafted shadows. He was looking out into the garden for an imaginary bird, while I stood behind him with the old French paper knife my mother had left me. I tried again. Uncle, please.

Now it's no use, my dear. No use. Go away and stop bothering me. He didn't even turn around when he said that to me, which made it quite easy when I... The knife went in smoothly. It kept on going into his back until I thought it would never stop. But the handle broke. Uncle Edward's body stiffened for a moment and leaned back intolerably against the knife. He groaned and he fell. After a moment, I bent over it. He was very silent. As silent as the dark garden. As silent as death. My uncle had come home more than he knew.

He wasn't very heavy. And he didn't bleed at all, which was nice. As I dragged him through the French doors into the softness and darkness of the garden. I hurried, because Tony would be coming home. The ground would be softest. I knew under the rose buds that I loved so. It was there that I dug a grave for uncle. And it was there that I buried him. Under the lovely roses that would bloom again and again, not knowing or caring who lay beneath them. There was the sound of our car pulling up at the front door, but I was finished.

Uncle was under the roses, with a paper knife still in his back. And I, I was in the drawing room, at the piano, when my darling came in. Oh, my love. Oh, Tony, my dear. Anything exciting happened while I was away? No, Tony, no. Nothing ever happened to you? Nothing. Oh, it's pleasant having breakfast in the garden, isn't it, Tony? Except for, um, look. Oh, dear, Mr. Stokes. Mm-hmm. Or Winback. Well, he's a very nice old gentleman, but he does talk a lot, and... Ah, good morning, good morning, good morning! Mary, what a lovely sight you two make.

Charming! Thank you, Mr. Stokes. Well, Laura, your roses are almost as lovely as you are. Ah, they're much lovelier, you know that. And where is your Uncle Edward this fine morning? Laura, you have said your thoughts. Oh, yes, I did, didn't I? That was very careless of me. I... Well, Mr. Stokes, I suppose Uncle Edward is still abroad. Oh, my dear, my dear, I saw him last night here. Here? Well, on his way here, at any rate. I was driving, it was quite late. I saw him coming down the road. Oh, it wasn't Uncle Edward.

No? Oh, well isn't that funny? Well, I thought I could have recognized him anywhere. It wasn't Uncle Edward. Well, yes, of course. You know better than I, of course. Well, I must be getting old, eh? Well, let me remind you, Mr. Stokes, well, have my head if I don't hurry back home. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Who's Uncle Edward, Laura? My uncle. I could have guessed that. Oh, yes, of course. I mean my mother's brother. A poor relative? Um, why do you ask that? Why do you seem so upset when Stokes mentioned his name? Oh, well, he is a bit.

He, he, he, um, yes. I wouldn't have liked him. No, no, I, I, I don't think you would. So isn't it lucky it wasn't Uncle Edward? I'm going down the road to the carter. You want to come along? No, dear, I better go to this mayor. Ah, good old mayor. Lots of chicks coming in, huh? Lots of them, darling. Hey, Laura. Yeah? Well, why aren't you using your paper knife? My paper? Oh, oh, it, it, it needed cleaning and I, I wanted to wear the habit cream. Oh, it's a pretty thing. Glad you haven't lost it.

But I, I thought I noticed it around last night. No, no, I sent it away a few days ago, when, when I went into town. Well, I'll see you later. Bye. Bye. Um, until later. Oh, please, Tony, please forget about my paper knife. Please, Tony, forget about it. Now, where's Ed Cheney? Ed Cheney? You can tell him his old pal, Travers, is here and waiting. Oh, well, I'm, I'm afraid you've made a mistake. What kind of mistake? There's no Mr. Cheney here. Look here, my girl, this is Green Towers, is it? You know, Laura? Yes.

I can tell your Uncle Ed I'm here and waiting. Well, he isn't here. He got here sometime yesterday. He asked me to come here today, but I'm here. I'm terribly sorry, but he's away. He's abroad. He is not here. Oh. He owes me some money. Oh, he does? Yes. I see. I don't care what I see or not. What I care about is the money. But I... I'll wait for him. Well, you can't... You told me he was coming here yesterday. He hasn't come. No, I haven't. I will. Well, it might be very awkward. Suppose...

Yes? Suppose I gave you the money. That would be all right. Then you would go away. You wouldn't wait for Uncle Edward? I'd go away? All right. I think I may have it here. I always keep quite a bit of cash. It's expensive, you know. Yes, yes, I do have it. And here you are, Mr. Trejo. Thanks. Well, you didn't count the money. I trust you. Thank you. You know, I like this part of the country. Do you? Yes. I've just changed my mind. What about? Going away. I'm getting on in years. I'll be out soon, the rest of them here.

You said you'd go away. I did, didn't I? That was before you gave me the money. Well, you, you, you, you, you've left me very long on that. I... There'll be more, won't there, darling? And I'd better be running along. Find myself a nice place to live, near the village. But, Mrs. Taylor... You see, I know where Uncle Edward did come in last night. And he didn't throw me any money. I was trying to get a job from him. But, uh, this way is even better. Au revoir. Oh, no. Ah, gents, it's getting late. I'll be going to my new little gray home in the west, eh?

That is nice. Good night. Oh, man, please be back, Joe. Buy all the drinks you can stand. You're dark. What you want? I said what? Don't you stand there, look at that. Hey, that knife. Put it in there. No, no! Well, you're all here waiting, eh? What's the matter, you brave or something? Oh, you are. And suppose you crawl out from under that sofa, and listen to the tale of Laura who planted her Uncle Edward under the rose bushes in the garden, with her favorite paper knife in his back. A Mr. Thrail tried to blackmail her, but one dark knife, Mr.

Thrail lost interest in worldly matters, lying down in the street with a knife in his heart. The next morning at Green Towers. Good morning, Barb. Good morning, darling. Got a bit too tall right now? Too hungry to wait. Pull up a chair and go to work. All right, I will. What's the matter, Laura? Nothing. You're a bit pale. I'm all right. I... Tony, who put those roses on the table? I did. They're blooming. I know how you love them. Thank you, darling. Say, a terrible thing in the papers this morning. Oh? What? A man stabbed to death in the village.

Really? Stranger to hear about. He was at the village bar, throwing a lot of money around, walked out. Somebody evidently wanted the rest of his money, so he got a knife stuck into him. Oh, how dreadful. What was his name, Tony? It was a funny name. Hard to remember. Oh, yeah, a trail, and that's what it was. Laura, what's wrong? Oh, nothing, nothing. I do think those roses have given me a headache. They're only so strong. Oh, that's a shame. Well, I'll get rid of them. Oh, will you? Thank you. I'll go and lie down for a while.

Maybe my head will feel better. Yeah, you do that. Yes, I may even be able to sleep again. Yes, sir. Stop wondering about the room. I'm just a bit restless. Get your paper knife back from the cleaners again. Paper. Oh no, no, not yet. It's taking an awful long time, isn't it? Hope they haven't lost it. I hope not. Tell me. What? There are no roses in this room, are there? No. Well, then, why is the odor of roses so strong? Laura, I'm worried. Why? Because there is no odor of roses in this room. Good night, Tony, darling.

Laura, are you sure you don't want me to stay with you tonight? No. Run along to your own bedroom. You're not looking well. I'll be all right. Yell if you want me. Good night. Good night, Tony. Good night. I'll be all right, all right, if only the roses will go away. The heavy sweet odor of roses always in my nostrils. What? What? Oh, for goodness sakes, I was asleep. When I was... When I was laughing. Oh, no, I don't hear anything. IIII... The voice is coming from the garden. From the garden. I've got to get out of bed and see.

Now, there's nobody in the garden. Nobody at all. There's the plum tree, just as it always is, and the vegetable patch, and the lawn where we play croquet, and there are the rose bushes, too. The rose bushes. And out of the rose bushes, a man is standing up, and he's my uncle. No! Tony. Tony, what did that doctor say? Do you think they can stop him, that means? I don't know. He's stopped me by a little while. He seemed a very strange man. Psychiatrist. I mean... I knew he was a psychiatrist, darling. Tony, do you think I'm...

Of course not. Because it's only that I smell roses when they're on me. You're not crazy, Laura. For heaven's sake. I'm going to see the doctor now. Now, you'll be a good girl. I'll see you. I'll be back very soon. Do you try to sleep? Yes, darling. But I couldn't sleep. Soda or roses would feel terribly strong. I thought... Maybe perhaps if I got out of bed and lay down on the floor where the fresh air and the air conditioning machine were strong, perhaps there I'd be more comfortable. But... I thought it was funny as I crawled about a bit on the floor on my hands and knees until I found the place where the fresh air was supposed to come from.

Then I began to laugh, and I laughed, and I laughed. That night I waited till the next step, and I went downstairs into the cellar, and straight to the air-conditioning machine which kept the house so fresh. And there, in front of the blower which, drove the air through the pipes into my bedroom, I found a little bottle. It was a lovely little bottle, with a crest on its little fat guy, and the word, flatter of roses on it. Hmm, the bottle, you see, was open. And then I knew that I wasn't mad, and I also knew that the time had come for me to find my paper knife again.

I'm awake, Tony. Ah, brought you a breakfast. Thank you, darling. Um, put it down. I won't need it. All right. Hey, you had a good night? I had a wonderful night. Tony, I think I'm going to be well again. Help me out of bed, darling, will you? Just put your arms on me. All right. I'm going to bed. I'm going to bed. I'm going to bed. Oh, don't be in such a hurry to take your arms away, darling. Hold me, Coach. Oh, Lord. Darling, I forgot to tell you. What? My paper knife came back. It what?

Yes, I have it now in my hand. The hand that's behind your back, Tony. Yes, Tony, here is my paper knife. You can take your arms away from me now, Tony. It was Christmas, Uncle Edward, but I think you die anyway, Tony. Yes. Yes. Maybe the hand. Maybe. Oh, no, no, Doctor. Why? I found the bottle of perfume you placed in the air conditioner that you were using to drive me mad. Bad luck, darling. You saw me kill Uncle Edward, didn't you? You were the one in the garden, weren't you? Yes, I saw you. And then when Flayle came, you knew about him and you killed him, didn't you?

Of course. I couldn't afford to have you give him money. Money? It was going to be mine. Oh, Tony. Oh, Tony, didn't you know it was yours anyway? Everything I had was yours. Why did you have to torture me and try to drive me crazy? You would have tracked it. And the money would have gone to... Uncle Ed, I played it safe. But you didn't tell me, did you? Pray it safe, because now you're dying. And when you're dead, I'm going to bury you with Uncle Ed. Right in the garden under the road, I've already told everyone that you're going away, and you are, but not very far.

Although it's far enough, isn't it, Tony? You've won. Thank you, darling. And you've lost. You know what that is. It's an ambulance for you. Why? You're mad. Yesterday, two doctors signed the certificate of lunacy. I ought to know. I am not insane. I can prove it. The older of the buildings was a fake. I can show them the perfume. I can explain it to them. But how will you explain me from Uncle Edward? I... That's it, Laura. How will you explain her? Tony! Tony! Well, well, that's the end of Poor Laura, who is a handy girl with a paper knife, but who didn't do so well with her spring planting.

Oh, and while I amble down to green towers to find out whether Laura is spending the winter in a padded cell or at the morgue, let me give you a bit of earnest advice. Never plant your uncle in the rose bushes if you're allergic to pollen. You might get a bad case of slave fever. This item has been a presentation of the United States Armed Forces Radio Service, Voice of Information and Education. It has gotten, well, my dear, it seems like you're hungry for one more turn of the fates, as it were, and I'm of course happy to provide, but soon the sun will return to claim its throne over all of us.

This one is eerie and it may bother your ears a little bit, but that's the way of entropy. All things deteriorate, rot, and, well, so forth. And of course, as is not an exception, there's Cornelia. Quiet, please. Today's story, written and directed by Willis Cooper and featuring Ernest Chappell, is called Cornelia. I'll tell you everything from the very start. I haven't told it to anybody before, as you know. If I knew nobody would believe it, then maybe you won't either. Not that it will do any good if you do believe it. Nor, for that matter, any harm if you don't.

You've been a good friend, Alan, and the least I can do is tell you the whole thing. It wouldn't have done any good at all to tell you before. Now, it's too late for anything. So, you've known me only, how long is it? Less than six months. You never knew Cornelia. That's good. You can go out to Lakeside Cemetery sometime and have a look at her tombstone. It says she died on the 29th of August, 1937. It's a very nice tombstone. I paid $750 for it. And I never spent $750 so gladly in all my life.

Cornelia and I were married a little more than eight years. Cornelia was a year and two months older than I. Did you ever have a childhood sweetheart hour? In school? Grammar school and few high school? A girl, maybe, that you watched grow up from pigtails to hair of an on to a page boy bob, from pinafores to midi blouses to a white graduation dress. A girl that shared algebras and famous rock, and the three parts of doll with her. There's a kind of shadow of marriage in the relationship of kids who share all their school days together on them, from the first pencil boxers to a rolled up high school diploma, and a handshake from the superintendent's school.

Six hours a day together, nine months a year for children, thinking the same thoughts, facing the same problems. It isn't like some ancient, fundamental man. You know what I mean, I feel sorry for people who haven't had that experience. If there are any, I am glad I have it. You didn't know Barbara, of course. Barbara is just a name. Like Cornelia is just a name. I don't know when it was that Barbara and I first knew we were in love with each other. When we talked about it, it seemed we'd always been in love. And yet, there was no beginning, but we could remember.

And there's no end to it. We were juniors in high school, the year that Cornelia moved to our town. Barbara and I were the kind of standing joke among our schoolmates. We were the heavy romance, the dependable. We were the old faithfuls of all the couples in school. Do you remember from your own school day down, there's always one couple like that? Everyone expects them to graduate, get married, then live happily ever after. Sometimes they do. In our case, you know all about them. At least you know we didn't live happily ever after. Cornelia was a beautiful girl.

No, I won't describe her to you, because anything I'd say would merely be the description of a beautiful woman. So you imagine her any way you want to. You never saw her. You've got to see music in your mind. Cornelia could have had practically any boy in school she wanted. She knew that, of course, the whole school knew it. She took her time. Paul Lomond, he was football captain. He had two big cities. Johnny Martins, who thought he could sing. Johnny lasted part of one evening with a Cornelia Sanctum. Eddie Braden with his Jordan Convertible Cornelia Sanctum.

Ray Allison, Bill Shirley, Shorty Lawrence with his Chattin Butter hair. They all fell, and Cornelia laughed. Only I think I'm right. I guess it was that afternoon in Chris Barrett's Ice Cream Party. I always thought, Cornelia didn't know Barbara and I were in the next booth. I always thought that till four years later one night. She told me she knew we were there. Maybe that was why she talked so loud. I've made up my mind. I've no more words. She must have felt the silence that fell all over the place as that dozen cup was strained to hear Cornelia's chuckle.

Even then, Alan, she possessed some strange power over people. Somebody dropped an ice cream stain on the air-pad of her mind. And that was the only sound that came out. Gordon. Gordon's my boy. I smiled at Bob. But Barbara wasn't smiling back. It was less than eight. And I have never seen that look on her face before. Why are you taking the whistler? Does he think he can keep in when I warm him? I reached the barber's hand. The barber's hand wasn't there. I looked in the barber's eyes, the barber was staring somewhere into the future.

And what I saw in her eyes... Yes, it was, Donna. She is 17 years old. But she loved movement. And she was afraid of it. And I was afraid, I was afraid of that voice. Does she think she can keep him when I want him? Barbara had a headache when I came to Tampa to see the hell-dangerous of the Idol Hour that night. And I knew I should have stayed at home with her. But I wanted to see that picture. Remember it, Alan? This was a great picture in those days. Barbara never did this. Cornelia did, though.

She made a good subject for conversation between us a couple of days later after school. And before I knew it, I was walking home with Cornelia. Then Cornelia was singing. Remember that thing from Boston Times? You are my song of love, Melody immortal, Echo of power, How many times have I heard that song? This is a sugar-flavored, natural, sentimental song, stolen from that beautiful theme in the entrance. But that first time, it was a love song of a beautiful girl, and a love song to me. Barbara and I had never talked as much. I found it very intriguing to be with a girl You know, we talked constantly, as well.

It is easy, and flattering, when you're 17. Oh, I saw Barbie, I saw her often. But I thought Cornelia, too. Cornelia saw her often, and often. On the way home, life is from Bobby's house, that beautiful. And sometimes I thought to Bobby, Oh, for a thousand Oh, what power does it take to rule the world? And I stopped, wanting to go away, but held for something that I didn't recognize. Though I know all about it now. And gradually, gradually, Juanita drew me away from her. I don't believe she loved me now. There were times when she laughed at me I'm sorry for my clumsiness, for my useful embarrassment.

But always she was weaving some sort of spell about me, putting new barriers between me and Bob. Robert didn't fight back, Ellen. I know how Bob was felt. If Robert thought I loved someone else more than I did her, you've heard of that quote. Sometimes it works. Or perhaps Bob was willing to wait, and left me half a fling, to be waiting for me when it ended. Bob, I love you. And true at all, Alan, I love her. Oh, I know what you think of me. I was a fool. Haven't you ever been a fool?

Haven't you ever got yourself involved in something you knew wasn't right, and kept on with it, having your conscience for the thought that it won't last forever? And you can go back and start over again whenever you want to. Why was you thinking that? Oh, of course I know it now. I didn't realize it then. My folks had money. Cornelia's people had nothing left. Cornelia knew what she was doing, and she knew how to do it. She was going to have me from hell or high water, Alan, and she wasn't going to let Barbara have me.

She knew me better than I knew myself. Women like Cornelia all with you. Then she knew how to trap me. The day came when she sprang the fat. Barbara and I, I said, had never spoken before. Cornelia spoke with love. You've never had that happen to you, have you, Alan? That's the one. Especially if you believe it. Barbara had been away for two weeks, visiting a cousin somewhere in Iowa. Cornelia waited in the room for Barbara to be back. Gordon, what are we going to do? What to do? What do you mean? Barbara's coming back tomorrow.

Yes, I know. What are we going to do about it? Well, I don't know, Cornelia. She's not going to take you away from me. Why, I'm not. She's not going to have you, I tell you. What's the matter with you? Gordon, listen to me. You love me. Gordon, no. I know it's wrong for me to say it, Gordon, but I won't let it come between us. I know why you never asked me to marry you, Gordon. It's because you think you'll be living in a pride. But, Gordon, you should see how unimportant that is. Boy, I never thought...

You can't get her feelings there between us and our happiness, Gordon. I love you, Gordon, and you love me. And, Gordon... Don't you, Gordon? No, I didn't. We can't go on this way forever. Never seeing anything, never allowing ourselves to be happy. Gordon, darling, let's stop killing each other. Let's not let somebody else break up our happiness. Gordon, Gordon. It was that simple, that easy. The honorable young man could do no less than promise to marry the girl. I bought her a ring. Barbara sent back my high school ring to her husband. Cornelia and I were married a year later.

Well, that's the first chapter. Now take a look at us after we were married. Take a look at Cornelia and me after six months of marriage. In our new home out on Prospect Heights with a new car in the garage and the new furniture in the house and the happily married couple at home. I don't want to be kissed. But, Cornelia... Can't you stop pulling me all the time? Who do you think I am, your friend Barbara? Neither. Oh, so that involved you, does it? How are you doing talking to her this afternoon? Cornelia, it was strictly a matter of business.

Business? That's a fine story. Cornelia, I can show you every word she says. My father would have brought the bonds in in South Gordon. But you know, he's sprained his ankle last week and he's still in bed. He said you had to have them today, so I thought I'd drop them by. My hand touched hers as she handed me the paper. I'll have to be running along now. Do give my best to your... to Cornelia. I don't believe a word you say. If I ever catch you running around with her, I'll make life so miserable for you both.

I was still young enough to have illusions about honesty and honor, and all those old fashioned virtues. I crossed streets when I saw them. I never mentioned her name. I didn't have to, Cornelia. I'm your friend Barbara. I'd say trying hard. You look nice tonight, 20 year darling. At least I look better than that. You're the disfaithful Barbara you used to run around with. When I last had a date, nothing was on the table. I said, Cornelia, listen, I married you because we said we loved each other. I've been faithful to you. I intend to be faithful to you as long as we're married.

But I've got to say, if you keep throwing Barbara's name at me, look, Cornelia, you know perfectly well that there's nothing between Barbara and me. But if you were trying to force me to... to see her, there's no better way than for you to keep reminding me of her. Why do you hate her so, Cornelia? All right. You want to know, Gordon. You ask me, and I'll tell you. I've got good reason to hate her. I hate her because she's the one person in the world that might take you away from me. Cornelia, you mean that you do love her?

I'm not going to talk about love between you and me, Gordon. I'm not going to let anybody take you away from me for a very simple reason. Even you ought to be smart enough to know what that reason is. I'm afraid I'm not going to. Why, Gordon, you're a security for me. Just as long as you have your money, I'm the girl that will stay with you. That's all you mean to me. Is that clear enough? You don't need that question. Why do you think I took you away from her? What I said then and what I say now are two different things.

You might as well make the best of it, Gordon. As long as you have money, you're stuck with me. Oh, I'll not create any scandals. I wouldn't give you grounds for divorce for anything. I'm with you, Gordon, for good. So death be with part, the man said. I'll be with you forever. And the way she said forever was like a clanging bell in my heart. And so you ought to know why I hate Barbara. I'll tell you, Gordon, it's because I know you still love Barbara, and she loves you, and she's the one man that I am.

I love Barbara, and Barbara loves me. Give her the bolt of lightning to me, Alan. Of course, of course I love Barbara. Who is this woman who took her away from me? Earn your lawful wedded wife, Gordon. Don't forget that. How could I forget her, and how could I forget the love I had for her? For I knew in a flight that the Barbara still did love me, and that I would also love her. And I was married to a woman who would be with me as long as I had my mind. Now let's speak of Alan.

Remember October, 1929. I came home that Friday night. Cornelia was waiting for me at the door. What about it, Gordon? Is the market any better? Are we going to be all right? Gordon, answer me. Answer me. We're not going to be all right, Cornelia. What? Gordon. There's not a cent left. I don't... I don't believe you. It's... time to leave, Cornelia. The money's all gone. No! No! No! No! Wishing you'll be helpless and glittery. I like having an awful year. Can I tell you of a nagging, unforgiving woman who's every waking hour devoted to Hayden?

I'll never forgive you. What have you done to me, Gordon? Striking at me with every means at her disposal. I don't care what you're doing. You come home this instant. I don't care if you lose your job or not. Maligning me to the few friends we have left. Running around with that farce. And he thinks I don't know it. Striking through at her like a vicious, wounded beast. I tell you, you better leave my husband alone. You're not gonna take him away from me. Never, never, never, never, never, never. A bitter kiss has pointed into the long hours alone to think of new ways to hate me for what had happened to me.

Long hours alone to plot her revenge is against me. Can't I try that? I nursed her day and night. I caged extra work from my friend's work. I could do at home at night for another few dollars for her. I made every sacrifice I could think of and nothing was enough to satisfy her. And get me some fresh water. I'm thirsty. Wake up. Go and get me some cigarettes. If I can't sleep, you're not going to sleep. I saw the way you looked at me. But you're not going to get rid of me. I'll live on and on and on.

I'll hate you and hate you and hate you. And Barbara, she thinks she's waiting for you. She thinks I'll die and she'll have you. I'll never let her have you, Gordon, do you hear me? I'll never let her have you. Five years ago, Alan. Five long years. What could I be? I could wait, Alan. I could wait and hope. I could listen to Cornelia. I hate you. And I could wait. You want me to die. I can wait for you to die, Gordon. I'll always be with you. No, you won't, Cornelia. Everybody has to die.

Everybody has to die. Don't they, Alan? Cornelia and Barbara and you and me. You think people stay dead, Alan? I'll never forget the night when you and I... It was like a scene from a play from one of those plays we used to do years ago, the death scene in the old castle. There was something about the house that night My name is Henrique Couto. Even before New Year's Eve, on New Year's Night's Day, there was almost always a storm outside the windows in the old place. And that night, one of those sudden wild summer storms gathered and struck.

There was always a grand totter's flock. And ours on the staircase rang seven as I ran upstairs toward the windows against the wind in the driving lane. There was always the sound of a shrill telephone bell offstage in the old cellar. And ours began to ring right on cue. And the last, perhaps as attractive as it may have been, too, the lights went out. We had everything on. Even the mad woman raving away in the darkness as I groped my way to her room. Her voice lashing out at me like the storm that beat at the winds of the darkened house.

And in my heart I said, die, then, Cornelia, this is the time. And again that hideous song as I stumbled over the moon. And again I said, die, Cornelia, die, and never come back. Then the song stopped again. And the thunder cracked again. And the lights came on, and Cornelia. And then the last touch of the melodrama. We were unashamed about it, Alan. Robert and I were married two months later. We had so many years, so many days, Too many hours to make up for it. Cornelia was more than dead. She was banished, and there wasn't a trace of her in our memories.

I love you so, Gordon. I love you so much. I'm afraid. I shouldn't say that. It's silly, isn't it? But it's so perfect that... Gordon, nothing can happen here. Of course not, Big. We're going to live happily ever after. Happily ever after. I wonder... There was a sudden chill on the floor. There was a different look to her more than her eyes, as you see. I remembered it a long time ago. I remembered it the morning I came downstairs to breakfast, and Barbara was singing. Barbara! What's the matter, Gordon? What were you singing? I didn't notice, dear.

What's the matter with you? Barbara, never, never sing that song again. You hear me? I don't know what you mean, darling. Weren't you like the time? That wasn't Barbara's voice. Barbara spoke, and it wasn't her voice. Why, Gordon, you look as if you're afraid of me, Barbara. Then it was Cornelia's eyes that looked at me out of habit. I didn't believe, but I knew it couldn't happen, but it did. And there was a time when we thought, what could I tell her? Could I tell her that the soul of another woman was taken possession of her?

How could I tell her? Was this Barbara, or was it... I began to think that it was a hallucination that I imagined, and I tried to laugh at myself. But I watched her, and I kept my eyes on her. Barbara. I live on and on and on. Barbara. And she opened her eyes and spoke again. I'll never let her have you, Gordon. And the voice was Cornelia's. The eyes were Cornelia's. Then she laughed at me. My hands went to her throat. To Cornelia's throat. Well, my dear, the evening has run thin, and the sun will be out before you know it.

Time for you to head home, and for me to, wherever it is I, go. But I do hope to see you back here again. I always enjoy your visits. Same time, same place, always happy to have your company. And if I may ask just one more favor, as you leave here tonight and march away through the shadows and the crunchy leaves, and into your beautiful home, and lay your head on that soft, cool pillow, and blink away the day yet again. Take one moment, and be thankful for what you have. And I'll be seeing you soon.