 Written, produced and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Coburn, I'm starling two of radio's foremost personalities. Leon Janney and Van Sheppard in Christmas Story. It is the mysterious traveler inviting you to join me on another journey into the realm of the strange and the terrifying. And it will thrill you a little and cheer you a little. So settle back, get a good grip on your nerves and be comfortable if you can, as we hear the tale of an enterprising young man. It's the drama I call Christmas Story. Playing Santa Claus. Yeah, you're looking at a guy who really played it to the hill. It all started last month in Seattle. I was out of a job and down to my last few bucks. I was looking through the morning paper when I noticed this small ad in the personal column. Driving to New York, November 15th. Man wanted to assist in driving. Free transportation, Paul Harris Hotel Royal. Well, I'd always wanted to see New York and this was as good as any way of getting there. So I went up to this hotel royal to see this guy, Harris. My name's Farrell, Steve Farrell. I read your ad in the morning paper. Oh yes, won't you come in? Thank you. If you haven't already found someone to help you drive in New York, I'd like to offer my services. Well, as a matter of fact, I haven't. Can you leave for New York a day after tomorrow? Sure, anytime. Well, good. Then why not come around at nine in the morning and we'll get off to an early stack? Okay, Mr. Harris, nine it is. Okay. Steve is my Louiston, 30 miles. Louiston, that's Idaho, isn't it? Yeah, we're just crossing the state line into Idaho. This is all new to me. I was born and raised in Alaska. This is my first trip to the state. Well, you're going to see a lot of scenery between here and New York. Yes, I'm looking forward to it. Life must have been pretty rugged in Alaska. Oh, it was. My parents were homesteaded. I never saw a city until a week ago when I arrived in Seattle. How come you're going to New York? Well, my parents died last year and my grandfather, whom I've never seen, wrote asking me to come visit him. You've never seen him, though? No. No, there was some sort of squabble between my parents and my grandfather before I was born and they went to Alaska. And in all the years since then, my grandfather never wrote to them. Sounds like a stubborn guy. Yeah, he sure does. What are you going to New York for? Well, mainly to look for a job. And I've always wanted to see you, the big city. Sure, why? Do you mind taking over now, Steve? My eyes are getting tired. Glad to. Just pull over to the side of the road. It's a long way from Seattle to New York. There wasn't a radio in the car, so we just talked. And mostly we talked about Paul, his life in Alaska, his parents, his grandfather. By the time we hit Columbus, Ohio, there wasn't a thing I didn't know about the guy. And from what he told me, his grandfather was loaded. And even more, he was the old man's only relative. It was obvious the kid was walking into a fortune. Yeah, some guys had all the luck. So these are the Allegheny mugs? Yeah. You better take it easy, Paul. The road's a little slippery. Okay. How much further than New York? 250 miles. It's getting dark. You better stop for the night at the next tourist court. All right. We should be able to make New York by tomorrow afternoon. Yeah, easy. What are you going to do when we get there, Steve? Well, start hunting for a job. Look, Steve, why don't you come to my grandfather's house with me? I'm sure he won't mind putting you up for a few nights. Thanks, kid. But don't worry about me. I'll be all right. Steve, I don't want to lose track of you. I thought we were friends. Sure we are. As soon as I get located, I'll let you know where I am. You know, I thought this being your first visit to New York and mine, we might see the town together. You know, the Statue of Liberty? Statue of Liberty. Yeah, sure. Yeah, well, we're the same age. I'm afraid I haven't been around very much. I guess it's like you said, I'm strictly from the woods. Just one year in New York and you'll be head to everything. Your eyes bothering? Yeah, a little. You better let me take over when you get to the bottom of this mountain. Okay. You know, you want to see an eye doctor. Your eyes seem to get tired awful quick. Well, the truth of the matter is... Hey, look out, Pete. We're starting to skid. No, don't jam on the brakes. That only makes it worse. Reverse your wheel. I have. Steve, we're skidding off the road toward the mountain. Give me that wheel and do as I say. We're out of control. We're going over... In consciousness, I was lying a few feet from the car. We'd rolled 300 feet down the side of the mountain and the car was completely wrecked. I crawled to my feet and felt for broken bones. Other than a bad gash on my head and the massive bruises, I was okay. I limped the few feet to the overturned car and looked in. Paul was still behind the wheel. Even before I reached for his pulse, I had a feeling he was dead. Paul's luck had run out. He'd never see all that dough that was waiting for him in New York. Yeah, it was then that it came to me. I hadn't wished the guy dead, but now that he was, and nobody in the state knew Paul or what he looked like, and on the other hand, I knew everything about him. Well, it was a gamble, all right, but there was a fortune in the kitty. I went to work switching our clothes and all identification. Just as I finished, the state police patrol car came along the mountain road and spotted the wreck. They took me to headquarters where I made a complete statement. A couple of hours later, I grabbed the train for New York. I'm George Marlowe, your grandfather's attorney. How do you do, Mr. Marlowe? The Pennsylvania State Police informed me of the dreadful accident you had. I understand a man whose will you was killed. Yes, a fellow by the name of Steve Farrell. I met him in Seattle. He assisted me with the driving. It's too bad, but, like Heavens, it wasn't you who would have been your grandfather's deathblow. How is he? Weak, very weak, but eagerly waiting to see you. All right, come along. Yes, sir. How's that cash on your head? Oh, not too bad. It was treated by a doctor at the state police headquarters. You can only spend a few minutes with your grandfather, and excitement must be avoided by all means. I understand. And here we are. How is he, Joan? He's much better this afternoon. Good. Joan, this is Paul Harris. Paul Joan Dietrich, your grandfather's nurse. How do you do? Paul, is that you, Paul? Yes, sir. Come over here, where I can see you. Yes, Grandfather. You're Paul, my grandson. Yes, sir. Sit down by my bed and let me look at you. All right, Grandfather. You, you don't look like your mother. Must take after your father's side of the family. Yes, I do. That, that bandage, what happened, Paul? I was in an accident, but it's nothing, just a scratch. You're sure? Yes, yes, of course. I suppose you're wondering why I sent for you after all these years of cutting off your mother, father. Does it matter now? The main thing is I'm here. You know, lying here for months, I've had a great deal of time to think things over. I was wrong, Paul, your mother. She had a perfect right to marry anyone she wished. It was only my stubbornness that prevented the reconciliation. Are we all making mistakes? Yes, yes, but 30 years have not seen my own flesh and blood. It's been lonely, Paul. It's all my fault. But you're not alone anymore. I'm here. Yes, yes, Paul. What, what little time I have left. We must spend together. I think that's enough for now, Mr. Marshall. Paul can come and see you later after your nap. But just a few more minutes, John. After your nap. Oh, she's a wonderful girl, Paul. But a tyrant. Come see me as soon as I move away. All right, Grandfather. Now let me fix your pillow for you. Just your being here seems to have helped him, Paul. What do the doctors say, Mr. Marlow? Week, month, several months at the outside. That bad, huh? Yes. Well, you must be tired after your trip. I had your suitcase taken to your room. Do you have any other luggage on the way? There's a small trunk coming, but he won't be here for weeks. If you need any money, just let me know. Your grandfather's placed a considerable sum at your disposal. Thanks. But I still have 2,000 left to the 5,000 he sent me. Very well, Paul. Now, if there's anything at all you want, just let me know. Yeah, I was in. There was no question that I'd passed as Paul Harris. And why not? I had all the answers, and I was playing it careful. I walked through room after room of that Fifth Avenue mansion, knowing that within a matter of months, it would be mine. In the weeks that followed, not a day passed, and I didn't spend a few hours with the old man. He liked me, I could see that. And the funny thing is, I liked him too. During our little chats, there were times I felt I was his grandson. And sitting in at these little sessions, not saying much, just watching with those gray eyes of hers was Joan Dietrich. She was one lovely dish. And I could feel things building between us. Whenever she got an evening off, we went out together. Having a good time? Wonderful. I love dancing. Why, Mr. Harris, what are we doing out here on the terrace? The music's in there. Too many people in there. You know, if you don't make a pass at me soon, I'm going to get discouraged. I was in this short acquaintance, three weeks. What's the time got to do with it? The day I walked into my grandfather's room, first saw you. You knew this moment would come. You were the same way they were. So I was flying. Love me? You know I do. Am I the tears? Oh, I do love you. And I want to believe in you, but I'm so confused. So confused. About what? Come on. I want to hear. Are you really Paul Harris? What makes you ask that? In your talks with Mr. Marshall, several things you said seem strange. Such am? Your grandfather spoke of a restaurant in San Francisco, and you said you knew it. Yet if you are Paul Harris, how could you not? Paul Harris has never been to San Francisco. I might have taken in San Francisco on the way to New York, you know. What else bothered you? You mentioned the television show you'd seen six months ago. There is no television in Alaska. If you're Paul Harris, how could you have seen it? People up in Alaska see kinescopes of television shows, baby. They're shown like movies. Darling, just tell me I'm wrong. That's all I wanted to hear. I wish I could tell you I'm Paul Harris. But I'm not. You're not? No. The name is Farrell. Steve Farrell. Steve Farrell? Wasn't that the fellow that was killed in the vet? It was Paul Harris who was killed. You changed identity. Yes. How could you? How could you? I was tired of being broke, of going from one lousy job to another. I saw a chance to grab a fortune and took it. What are you going to do? I should go to the police. I can't. Mr. Marshall thinks you're his grandson. He's extremely fond of you. If the truth were to come out, it would kill him. Is that the only reason you can't go to the police? Oh, Steve, what are we going to do? Nothing. Nothing? That's right. I'm going on being Paul Harris until the old man dies. Then I'm taking the estate. Steve, you can't. Why not? While the old man's alive, I'm making him happy. If I get his estate when he dies, who loses by it? It isn't as though he has other relatives. Why shouldn't I get it? No, it's wrong, Steve. It's wrong. It's wrong only if you're caught, baby. Only if you're caught. You're going up here on the roof. Just getting a little fresh air while Mr. Marshall sleeps. How is he? He can't last more than a few days. Who are you crying for? The old man or me? Well, I thought you... Oh, Steve, ever since the other night when you told me I haven't been able to think of anything else. It's wrong, Steve. It's so wrong. Who am I hurting if I get the estate? I deserve it if anyone does. At least I'm making the old man happy in his last hours. What if you're caught? Do you realize I'd send you to prison? That's the chances you take, baby. Besides, who's going to get wise to me? There's Mr. Marlowe, and he's nobody's fool. Just one little slip, Steve, and he'll be on to you. Marlowe's a sharp citizen, all right. But I don't intend to make that one slip. Someone's coming up under the roof. Hello, you two. Thought I'd find you up here. Hello. How are you, Mr. Marlowe? Right well, thank you. I'll stand there, Mr. Marshall's asleep. Yes, I let Mrs. Walker to look after him. You should be waking up soon. Maybe we better go down. My grandfather asked... Oh! What's the matter? Something in your eye, Paul? Yes, it's a cinder. Left eye, huh? Yes. Stop rubbing it. Put your handkerchief over it. That's it. Things like the bell. Go on over and sit on the chair. And I'll try to take it out for you. You want me to assist you to the chair? No, no, I can still walk. I'll sit down and tilt your head back. That's it. Put your handkerchief away. Oh, I see it. Hold still. There, I got it. Thanks, John. I think we better go down now. Yeah, okay. You coming, Mr. Marlowe? What? Oh, yes, yes. I'm coming. Mrs. Walker said that Mr. Marshall was asleep and she looked in on him a few minutes ago. Seems she's still sleeping. Perhaps we better leave and wait until he wakens. No, no, no. I'm going to wake him. It's time for his medicine. Mr. Marshall. Mr. Marshall. Time for your medicine. Mr. Marshall. What is it, John? There's no pulse. Are you sure? Yes. He's dead. At least the end came peacefully. He died in his sleep. John took the old man's death hard and I felt pretty upset myself. Even with all that door waiting. As for Marlowe, he was his usual efficient self looking after all the details of the funeral. Maybe it was the tension I was under, but Marlowe seemed to change to me. He wasn't quite so friendly. And sometimes I turned to find him watching me, giving me the cold eye. I couldn't be sure whether it was my imagination or not. After we got back from the funeral, I was in my room when there was a knock on the door. Come in. Oh, hello, John. Come in. Mr. Marlowe is downstairs in the library. He wants to see you. Close the door. Anything wrong? Twenty. Whose trunk is that you're going through? Paul's. He arrived this morning while we were at the funeral. Steve, what's wrong? I've just been going through some of Paul's personal papers. I knew, of course, that he was 4F in the draft, but I never knew why. What are you trying to tell me? Paul was 4F in the draft because he was blind in the right eye. Blind in the right eye? Right eye. Yes. That's why I've been getting the cold shoulder for Marlowe these past three days, ever since the afternoon we were on the roof. I don't understand. Somehow Marlowe knew that Paul was blind in the right eye, and when I got that cinder in my left eye, I covered it with my handkerchief. You told me to walk across the roof of the chair, sit down. Oh, yes, I remember. At that point, Marlowe offered to lead me to the chair. Knowing you were blind in the right eye and had your left eye covered with a handkerchief? Yes. When I walked over to the chair without hesitation, that must have started him thinking. Oh, Steve. Now, don't get panicky, baby. Marlowe can't be sure he's right. At the moment, he's just suspicious. But if he really investigates you... I've got to kill the suspicion in his mind. Stop him from doing any checking. But how? I don't know yet. Look, Marlowe, he's waiting for us in the library. I do have kept you waiting, Mr. Marlowe. That's quite all right. If you'll excuse me, I'll go. No, John, don't go. No reason why you shouldn't hear what I have to say. Tomorrow, Christmas Day, I'll officially read Mr. Marshall's will. However, I don't think I'm violating a trust in telling you the contents of the will. Two weeks ago, Mr. Marshall had me draw up a new will, leaving his entire state to you, Paul. I see. He was quite taken by you and felt that you were a credit to his name. Why are you crying, John? Nothing. As administrator of Mr. Marshall's will, it is my duty to see to it that the heirs, or heir, receive their just inheritances. This duty I shall fulfill. I understand. I am responsible under law for the awarding of the huge estate left by Mr. Marshall. I shall have to... Is it your eye troubling you? You've been doing nothing but rubbing it since you came into this room. Sorry, Mr. Marlowe. As you know, I'm blind in my right eye, and now in my left eye I feel quite strained, particularly at a time like this. My grandfather's death, the funeral. I understand it. Right. Yes. Yes, of course. You were saying? What? Oh, well, it's not important at the moment. I'll be here tomorrow at three for the reading of the will. I'll see to it that all the servants are here. Very well. Good night, Joan. Paul. Good night, Mr. Marlowe. Good night. Steve. He's confused. That business of the eye, he doesn't know what to think now. Yeah, I stopped him for the moment. But only for a moment. Hard to tell. But I've got to do something once and for all to convince him. I'm Paul Harris. Now, I didn't get to sleep that night. I just tossed and turned, trying to come up with an angle that would kill Marlowe's suspicions. Maybe that business of rubbing my eyes had satisfied him. But I had to make sure. It was a difference between being handed a fortune and a prison sentence. This afternoon at three o'clock, the servants, Joan, Marlowe, and myself gathered in the library. The whole thing was over in an hour. The servants all congratulated me and left the library, leaving only the three of us there. I should like to offer a toast to Mr. Marshall's memory. If you'll permit me. Of course. This was his favorite cherry. Joan. Thank you. Paul, thanks. Here's to Peter Marshall, a man who lived honorably, died honorably. May his air be worthy of him. As the three of us raised our glasses to our lips and drank, I could see Marlowe watching me over the brim of his glass with those cold blue eyes of his. We set down our glasses and I turned to give Joan a cigarette. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marlowe pick up one of the three wine glasses. Suddenly, I realized it was my glass he picked up. He held it casually, almost as if he didn't know he was holding it. In that moment, I was going nuts, trying to guess whether he was satisfied that I was Paul Harris or he was still suspicious and going after me. My fingerprints were on that glass and the army had a copy of those prints in Washington. This was it. Either I play mites and go for the fortune or throw in my hand. Suddenly, I felt Joan's hand in mine. And say, Mr. Marlowe. Yes. You say this will, leaving me, my grandfather's estate, is a new one. Yes. I drew it up only two weeks ago. What was the old will like? Well, under the old will, your grandfather's estate went to charity. I thought as much. Mr. Marlowe, Joan and I have been talking things over. I don't want the estate. I want it all to go to charity, as originally intended. Teeny, I seem to drop my glass. You realize, of course, what you would be giving up. I never really had it, Mr. Marlowe. So I hardly think I'll miss it. Joan and I will get along, won't we, baby? Oh, yes. Well, Paul, is that your considered decision? It is. It's a gesture worthy of Peter Marshall's grandson. Yes, and that little gesture did it. Any guy who gives up a two million dollar estate can hardly be called an imposter, can he? No, sir. It's Christmas, and I've just played Santa Claus to the tune of two million bucks. The thing I keep wondering about is what would have happened if I hadn't given up the estate? Would Marlowe have gone after me? Or was he satisfied that I was, Paul Harris? Yes, sir. That little puzzle is going to give me plenty of thought for a long time to come. Here is the travel again. Did you enjoy our trip? Or what happened to Paul Harris? Or rather, I should say, Steve Fallow? He and John were married, and the poor fellow is now working at an honest living. Yes, sometimes he thinks of the two million dollar estate he gave up, but then with taxes, what they are, what could he have kept in any case? Only a fortune. Which reminds me of a story in which another enterprising young man allowed himself to be killed because of acquiring wood. Oh, you have to get off here. I'm sorry. But allow me to wish you a merry Christmas before you go. And remember, I take this same train every week at the same time. You have just heard the Mysterious Traveller. Now you can enjoy other tense and exciting tales of the Mysterious Traveller in the current issue of the Mysterious Traveller magazine now available. We'll lay on Janney and Shepard and Lawson Survey with Maurice Tarplin starting the title role. Music under the direction of Emerson Buckley, composed by Richard DuPage. The Mysterious Traveller is written, produced and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogan. On this Christmas night, 1951, we send special greetings to Mutuals Affiliate in San Antonio, Texas, Radio Station KMAC. Today KMAC celebrates its 25th anniversary. Best wishes, KMAC, and congratulations. They'll talk and speaking, this program came to you from New York. Through the 27th consecutive renewal of the East-West Game and the annual Blue-Grey Game, it's another Mutual listening must. Not just one, but two of the season's biggest intersectional grid iron clashes will be aired for the sports-minded American listening public on the afternoon of Saturday, December 29th. The greatest names of the 1951 collegiate grid season are on the rosters of the competing squad. Remember, the action starts Saturday over most of these same stations. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.