 For the first time in its history, Scotland Yard opened its official files to bring you the true stories of some of its most celebrated and baffling cases. Research for Whitehall 1212 comes from Percy Hoskins, chief crime reporter of the London Daily Express. The stories for a radio are written and directed by Willis Cooper. Now you are to hear the voice of the man in charge of Scotland Yard's famous black museum, chief superintendent John Davidson. The things we have on display in the black museum are mementos of crime. Murder is the most frequent category. Here, among the knives, the guns, the bludgeons, among the vials of poisons and the ropes and cords that have served as murder weapons is this incongruous object. I'm sure you know what it is. This is a shoe, the kind known in Britain as a Wellington boot. It's an old-fashioned thing invented by the Duke of Wellington himself. You've seen Wellington boots before. The tragic thing about this one is its small size. It was worn by a ten-year-old child. Here is Chief Inspector John Mackey Marsh of the CID who will tell you about Scotland Yard case number 343-1198. This is the story of a person who was twice tried for the same murder. In fact, I think this is the only instance of that in the whole history of British jurisprudence. I'll tell you more about it. On the afternoon of the 5th of December, 1937, in Newark in Nottinghamshire, a little ten-year-old child left her school room for her home a short distance away. That was the last time she was ever seen alive except by a few persons who did not recognize her. Her name was Nora Brady. She was the daughter of Jack William Brady and Col Carter and Maggie Summers Brady, his wife. It's about ten that night when Nora had not returned to her home, the police were notified and the enquiries begun. During the night, the following procedures were set in motion. All the other pupils in the school attended by Nora Brady were interviewed at home. Most of them already abed. Results, nil. All the relatives of the Brady's in Newark were interviewed. Results, nil. All traffic on the Great North Road which runs through Newark was green. Results, nil. The abandoned and derelict property in a wide radius of Newark was examined. Results, the child was not found. The fruitless enquiries continued all through the night. In the morning, all Newark school principals were asked by the police to enquire their pupils, whether any of them had seen Nora Brady on the previous evening. Results, one principal reported to me that one of his pupils had seen her. When I asked... Between half past four and a quarter to five yesterday afternoon, he told me. Where? You are sure he recognized her? He says he did, sir. Was she alone? He says not. Ah, who was with her then? He's quite positive. Who? A former lodger of her father, a man known to him as Nora's uncle Ted. Is he her uncle? No, I do not believe so. I'll ask Brady. A little later in the day, when the news of Nora Brady's disappearance had got around the town of Newark, a Mrs. Black came forward. I didn't see the little girl. She's inspected her. But I did see a man waiting near the Wesleyan school she attended. When? A quarter before yesterday afternoon, about 15 minutes before school was dismissed. What was he doing? Just staring at the door of the school as if he were waiting for someone. Who was it, you know? Yes, sir, as a matter of fact, I do. I lived next door but one to the Brady's. I was a lodger they used to have, the one they threw out, the one that Nora used to call Uncle Ted. And the driver of a bus that runs between Newark and Redford, a small town about 25 miles away. He said he remembered a child with a slovenly middle-aged man on the bus that left Newark at 445. He didn't know the child, but his description of her clothes corresponded with the dress and coat she was known to have been wearing. But we couldn't find Nora Brady. I talked to her father, Jack William Brady. No, Ted Peter's ain't her uncle, sir. He's no relation to any of us. And besides, I threw him out of my house. I didn't want him about. Why? But for one thing, sir, he drinks. Oh, great. Many people drink, Mr. Brady. And I enjoy a pint, myself, after a hard day's work. But I'd have no man lying about my house 40% of the time in a drunken stupor and making a beast of himself. Anything else, Mr. Brady? She's ready to say there was anything else. My wife's sister in Sheffield is she and her husband. They introduced Ted Peter's to us as a friend of the family. Friend of the family, indeed. Yet an old broken-down motor cow that he used to drive them about in. That's how great a friend of the family he was. My wife's sister's husband and her brother-in-law, Bert Sickley, he know this Ted Peter from the R.A.M.C. in the war. So that makes him a friend of the family. And what else? That's just it, I'm trying to tell you. We let him have a room, turned it into a blinkin' pigsty he did. Never having a bath and sleeping in bed with his boots on and keeping scraps of greasy fish and chips. And God knows what else lying about. The very rotters themselves wouldn't eat them. And pinching my shorts and using violent fizzy language before my wife and poor little Nora. I chucked him out. And what did he say to that? Oh, something fearful. Till I broke two of his ugly teeth for him. And then he slunk away in mother's most horrible cursors and threatened me how he'd get even with me. Oh, he threatened you? Besides, he never paid me one single thousand of the six shillings a week he owed me all that time. How long? 15 ruddy weeks. Six times 15, 90 shillings. Four pound ten he owed me altogether for rent alone. And my wife and me had to take a bleedin' shovel and clean out that pigsty he'd made of our room. He went away muttering and cursing and threatening it. Is he a relation? My aunt's cat left her own leggy ears. It's Ted Peter's stone, my little Nora. You get her back and at once, too. Or I'll do it. And I'll bring you back Ted Peter's thinking head in the bucket besides. Did he ever threaten your daughter, Mr. Brady? Little Nora? No, he never threatened her. It was me that he... He didn't threaten her. He said something to me about taking the most precious thing I had. I thought it was just talk at first, but he knows how much I thought about Nora. And besides, he seems to have a kind of a fascination for her. He was always bringing her bits of toffee or cakes or something. He was very good to Nora once he gave her a half a crone, but I made her give it back. The child loved him. How can the child love a pig? What's this Uncle Ted business? Some idea. She had some idea that he was connected with my wife's sister and her husband that introduced us Ted Peter's to us. I see. I think. Do this brother and sister see Ted Peter's at all now? She's mixed up on some kind of deal with him. She's got money of her own a little. She's talking to him. She says they're both raising the money from to buy a lorry and go into business. I don't know what kind of dirty business he's gone into. I wouldn't let him touch the call that I haul. He'd get a dirty. Go and make him let my kid go. Does Peter's live in Redford? Redford? The driver of a Redford bus says he saw a man with Nora yesterday. Hmm? Lizard Heston? That's on the road to Redford. That's where he's got Nora. You go there and see. I went to Hayton, but I didn't see what Brady had expected me to see. Ted Peter's did live in Hayton, an infinitesimal village not far from the river Idle, which is a part of the network of waterways that lies about nearby Sherwood Forest. Sheffield, where the elder Brady's sister-in-law and her husband lived, is some 50 miles away by most baffling roads. I found Peter's house, which was ingenuously named Peace Haven, at a quarter to eight of a windy, rainy winter night. The house was dark, but Peter's lit a lamp, and we sat down to talk. I spoke first. When did you last see Nora Brady, Mr. Peter's? Who's Nora Brady? You don't know. Is it sick? You do know. She's a calibrator's nuke where I used to live. Oh, I know who she is. When did you see her last? About 15, 16 months ago. You didn't see her yesterday? No. Is that what you're saying to me? I saw 15, 16 months ago, sir. There are people who will testify under oath that they saw you with her yesterday. Yesterday? Oh, yesterday. She has not been seen since yesterday. I wonder where she is. You don't know? I don't know if we don't know. How would I know? Has Nora been here since yesterday? What time did you say 15, 16 months ago? Will you answer my question? Has Nora Brady been in this place since yesterday afternoon? No. What if I search this house? You won't find her. In addition to searching the house, I'll have to search the grounds too, you know. I shall dig up everything. You won't find her, yes. Where is she? I don't know. But she has been here. I don't know where she is now. But she was here. Where is she? She wanted to come. Why? Yesterday, when I was waiting for the boss at New York. What were you doing in New York? I was expecting to meet Brady's sister-in-law. She lives in Sheffield. You know, I thought she might be visiting New York, visiting the Brady's. She wasn't, though, was she? Why did you want to meet her? Well, she's going to get me some money to buy me lorry. I've heard about her. But she wasn't there. We know that. You didn't visit the Brady's to see if she was there, though, did you? Of course not. Brady hates me. Did you ever threaten Brady? Well, I was indignant when he chucked me out. I know about that, too, Peter. All about it, including your threats. Well, then, what are you asking me about it for? I'm reminding you that I know. Brady lies. Brady's daughter has been kidnapped. That's not a lie. Are you going to listen to me? With great attention, I assure you. Francis. I was waiting for the bus when this kid comes up. What's your name? You know her name, Peter. She says to me at Uncle Ted. She says she always calls me Uncle Ted. Are you going to see my Aunt Bernice? That's her father's sister-in-law. She lives in Sheffield. What made her think you were going to see her? She did talk often. Well, I says, you know, it's coming to see me. About the money for the lorry? Exactly. What I told her about that. Get on with it. Well, then, Uncle Ted. She always calls you Uncle Ted. Get me with you so she often gets to see the baby. What baby? Now, this sister-in-law's got a new baby. She's four months old. She carries with her whatever she goes, you see. And that's the baby this girl who wanted to visit. So she asked me if it's her back here where this lady from Sheffield and the baby was going to be. And I'll consent to you. You consent it. This was at the bus station? Yes. Yeah, at the bus station. What were you doing at Nora's school at 3.45? Oh, oh, she asked me to meet you. Then you did bring her here. Where is she? Oh, I'll have to tell you about that. I'm afraid you will. This morning. One time. The bad old person on. The bad old person on is a telephone call for me. Where? Oh, at the house down there where they let me use their telephone. Oh, I haven't got a telephone. Whose house? Mrs. Lester's. Mrs. Kate Lester's. You could ask her. I shall. Well, it was from this little girl's aunt. And she says she couldn't come today. She couldn't come for another week. And there was a little Nora that wanted to see the baby. What did you do then? Well, I told Nora first. And then I told her she must go. Back home? Well, I told her she wanted to see the baby. The crown. He started it all for Shiffy. You see the baby. Well, what's wrong with that? You didn't call her parents until then. No. She was going to see her aunt, wasn't she? So you say. I gave her half a crown. Is half a crown enough to get at the Sheffields? Well, she'd have to walk a good deal of the way. Then, little bus. You mean to say that you sent a ten-year-old child out in this weather to walk? Well, I'm not. What time is it? When it was raining hardest. When half a gale was blowing. Well, that's why. I don't know where she is. She might have got lost. You didn't tell her on her parents? Of course. Her old man would have... Well, where are you going, Shiff? Don't you want to hear any more? Don't you want to find her? No, I don't want to hear any more. Yes, I want to find her. That's why I'm going out and check up on what you've said. You stay right here. I should want to talk with you when I return. Where would all go? I don't know where you'd go, my man. Because there's one of my constables standing outside this door in the rain. You'll certainly not get very far. I spoke to Mrs. Kate Lester, the owner of the telephone, down the road. Yes, she knew Ted Peters. He was a frequent user of her telephone. Yes, Mr. Peters had talked on her telephone about half past nine that morning. Yes, she'd overheard him, although Mrs. Lester agreed it's not neighborly to eavesdrop. It was with someone in Sheffield, Mrs. Lester said. Peters seemed to be canceling an appointment he had had for that same day with someone in Sheffield, which apparently had to do with borrowing money to buy a lorry. Mr. Peters had decided against buying the lorry, he had said, and the person in Sheffield would not need to come and see him at all. And did he mention the name of Nora Brady, I asked Mrs. Lester? Or say anything about a baby? No, said Mrs. Lester. It was all about lorries and not coming to see him anymore. And that was also... And when I returned to the Peacehaven cottage, Ted Peters was gone. The light was still on, nothing appeared to have been taken. The constable of the front door had heard nothing, but Ted Peters was gone. We searched the place from roof to cellar, an extraordinarily filthy place, quite consonant with the tales we'd heard of Peters. There were indications that the child had been there, perhaps even whilst I'd been conferring with Peters. A school notebook, half filled with undecipherable childish scribblings, apparently quite recently done. A child's grubby handkerchief stamped in indelible ink with an N. A half cup of cold cocoa. For the child, no other sign. And the Peters, nothing. He returned at ten minutes after two in the morning, his boots muddy and his outer clothing wet from the rain. I called for more constables and by lantern light, we went over every inch of the surrounding fields, while Peters watched us silently. There's no expression at all on his face. At seven in the morning, I charged him with a kidnapping of Nora Brady under the offences to the Person Act. Nora Brady was never seen alive again by anybody. Peters was tried at the Warwick winter, as sizes of Birmingham, and was sentenced by Mr. Justice Armour to seven years' penal servitude. I shall not forget what the judge said to him as he passed sentence. He said, Peters, you have been most folly, in my opinion, convicted by the jury of a dreadful crime. What you did to that little girl what became of her only you now. It may be that time will reveal the dreadful secret which you carry in your heart. And Nora Brady was never again seen alive by anybody. I had thought I would never have to look on Ted Peters again, either. But I saw him again. I'd seen him last in the dead of the worst winter England that had in 17 years. The next time was in barbie mid-summer weather, in the following June. I have spoken before of the honeycomb of waterways that lies about the Sherwood Forest country. The River Idol is one of the principle of these streams that flows slowly and peacefully north to the Trent. But near Hayton, where Ted Peters had his home, Peacehaven, there is a short stretch of water called Bollum Shuttle, deep, swift, and unpleasant, a part of the River Idol. On Sunday the 6th June, 1937, exactly five months and one day after Nora Brady had disappeared from the school room, I was informed that a Donald Palmer of whom I'd never heard wish to speak to me on the telephone, I answered. Chief Inspector Marsham. Are you from Barthory and Nottinghamshire? I'm afraid I don't know where Barthory is. Do I know you, Mr. Palmer? I'm manager. Yes? Yes. Only a short distance below the tine of Hayton. Hayton. What's happened now at Hayton? What have you discovered, sir? A dead body. Yes. A dead... I was off post-haste aboard to it. I wouldn't want to tell you how I got there because I don't remember and I can conceive anyway of few others who would have reason to go there. But there we were. Palmer, the gasworks manager, Henry Bernard, the great pathologist from the home office, a gaggle of country constables, me, a brace of newspaper detectives, a fortune assorted wives and sons of the gasworks men, and in an outhouse of a nearby country in the pathetic little body of the drowned girl. Yes, it was Nora Brady. Jack Brady, her father, had been summoned from Newark and made the tearful identification. He recognized the blue-jump address she had worn and her brown cloth and a neat cotton underclothing her mother had made her. It was difficult to recognize her otherwise, because she had tissue due to long immersion in the water Henry Bernard said had set in that the identification was positive. As Nora Brady, she was dead. Only one person was missing, but we knew where he was and the coroner's jury was convened. Henry Bernard, the pathologist, testified. No, this child did not die from the effects of drowning. It is true that the body has been immersed in the water for a long time. It's not inconsistent, in my opinion, to say that she has been in the water for at least five months. That's to say, since early January of this year, but she was not drowned. I ask you to observe this mark around the neck. This was caused before death. She was strangled. Could that not have been caused by the neck of her dress having caught on the low branch above the water? And being suspended by the neck, I presume you mean, sir? In that case, the mark would have been flat and broad from the neck band of the dress. This one is sharply defined and it is cut into the flesh of the neck. And if the marks were caused by the dress supporting the weight of the body, the marks would have been oblique. You can make such an experiment yourself, sir, and find for yourself. This mark is horizontal all the way around the neck. The child was strangled. But what? Well, maybe that happened after she was dead. There is no water in the lungs. I can demonstrate that to you. And you have seen the marks on the tongue, the marks that correspond with the child's teeth, where she bit her tongue. That is the characteristic of strangling or suffocation. They always bite their tongue. She couldn't bite her tongue after she was dead, sir. The child was strangled. There was more talk, but the evidence was incontrovertible. Verdict of the coroner's jury. We, the jury, find that the deceased came to her death through the agency of a person or person's unknown. Now, it was my turn again. I was myself morally certain that the person or persons were not entirely unknown. I could not help reflecting on Mr. Justice's armor speech defeaters when he sentenced him. You did that, little girl. What became of her? Only you know that maybe the time will reveal that dead proceed. But it's never well for a priestman to entertain prejudices. The hangman shadow sometimes grows dim. However, I thought I might journey to the prison where Ted Peters was still serving his seven years. But I was not sure. I was not sure. Then Henry Bernard, the pathologist, brought something into my desk and laid it down before me. I looked at it. It was damp and soggy. It was cracked and twisted. Obviously, it had been in the water a long time. I picked it up. What is it I have? It's a Wellington boot, I should say. Wasn't that child wearing Wellington boots when she was last seen? She was. I'll ask her father to look at this to see if he can identify it. She wasn't wearing Wellington boots when that fella found her body. Wasn't she? She had only her stockings on. All of her clothes except her hat and her Wellington boots. Where'd you get this? Policeman found it. Where? In Ballam Shuttle. Wait. My mind went back that evening in January. When I left Peters alone, I came back and it was gone. Had he been to Ballam Shuttle that cold stormy night carrying a body with him? Very small body. That had been hidden in that house until I left. A body that he must get rid of before we searched the place. Would a body, I asked Bernard, float all the way from Ballam Shuttle to the place where hers was found? It could have been. Would a body, I asked Bernard, float all the way from Ballam Shuttle? It could. I remembered Peters' muddy clothes when he came back that night. Could you identify that mud if I found it, I asked Bernard? That's something to compare it with, yes. Ballam Shuttle. Get me the mud you want to identify and I'll go down to Ballam Shuttle and compare it myself. The mud was on the clothing he was wearing that night last winter. Did he wear those same clothes when he went down? Yes. Yes, he did. I do remember. You wear them to prison? That I don't know. If he did, they'd still got them at the prison where he is. Do you suppose of course they are. They don't wash prisoners' clothing. They give them mules. Well, I'll get your sample. Mail it to me. I did not see him, though. My business was with the governor. I showed him sufficient cause and he gave me Peters' muddy clothing. I posted them to Bernard and sat and waited. Finally, a telephone call was put through from Redford to me. It was a very short one. And then I went back to the prison and asked to see Ted Peters to find that Peters had gone over the wall, escaped. I sat there when the governor told me, miserably clutching that kid-sized Wellington boot, the same one the chief superintendent and John Davison showed you, the one he has in the black museum. Oh, we'll find him, said the prison governor, reassuringly. We'll find him. I walked out miserably, still clutching the shriveled boot. They did find him, though. A week later, lurking one night in an abandoned shed near the place in York where Jack Brady was employed. He had a heavy rubber-cosh blackjack, you'd call it and a caliber-32 revolver loaded. He was charged by the police with a variety of crimes against the king's peace and lodged safely in the New York jail. That's where I saw him a day later. Peters, I said, where were you that night last January when I left you alone in that house at Redford? P. Sadden. P. Sadden. You had Nora Brady in that house hidden all the time I was there. And you carried her to Bollum Shuttle and killed her and dropped her body in the water. She was found strangled to death. That was way downstream. But we found this in Bollum Shuttle. What's that? Nora Brady's shoe. One of a Wellington boot she was wearing that night. She's not. We can prove it is. You can't prove I was at Bollum Shuttle. Oh, yes, we can. The boot slipped off her foot and I'd have got it but the water was so cold. So cold for a little girl to feel it. Ted Peters, I arrest you on a charge of willful murder and I warn you that anything you say will be taken down and writing may be used in evidence. And Ted Peters went to his second trial for the same murder. This time at the Nottingham Shearer Sizes in the Shy Hall in the city of Nottingham, he was found guilty and sentenced to death. And this time, after the Court of Criminal Appeals had turned their thumbs down, he was hanged at Lincoln Prison. Heard on Whitehall 1212 today, Horace Brayham as Inspector Marsh. Others in the order of their appearance, Harvey Hayes, Winston Ross, Dula Garrick, Gerard Burke, Carl Hobart and Lester Fletcher, Lionel Rico speaking. Whitehall 1212 is written and directed by Willis Cooper. Somewhere right at this moment, somebody's home is on fire. If the people who live there are lucky, they've all escaped the fire. They've all escaped the fire. They're all lucky. They've all escaped the firemen have arrived and maybe they've even rescued a few odds and ends. Yes, every twenty seconds through the year a fire breaks out in the United States. These fires kill eleven thousand persons each year, disfigure for life, or severely burn thousands more and destroy seven million dollars worth of property. Protect your home from fire by following these simple safety precautions. Throw away lighted cigarettes, clean out closets, any place where old newspapers, magazines, and inflammable materials are liable to accumulate. Repair defective electric equipment and replace worn or frayed wiring. Use cleaning fluids that will not burn. Remember, don't gamble with fire. The odds are against you. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.