 And now, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. In a moment, act one of Dagger of the Mind, starring Claire Neeson and Leon Janney, and written especially for suspense by John Robert. This first portion of suspense is brought to you by the makers of Marlboro cigarettes. Julie London sings the Marlboro song. Why don't you settle back and have a full flavored smoke? Settle back with a Marlboro. Make yourself comfortable whenever you smoke. Have a Marlboro cigarette. You get a lot to like with a Marlboro filter. Flavor pack or box. Try Marlboro, the filter cigarette with the unfiltered taste. In my dream I was lost on a dark road, Dr. Rondo. I ran and suddenly I saw signs pointing everywhere and nowhere. I moved closer, practically looking for these signs, the direction I must take. And then I touched one, and it came alive. Alive to my touch, Dr. It was a, a thing, a thing with two faces, an angry face, a face of hate, and a smiling face, a smiling face that deceives. It called my name and I screamed. That was my dream. You've got to help me, Dr. Rondo. You must help yourself, Vicki. But how? How? Find some activity, some useful interest. Your only affliction is idleness. A slight case of middle age. I don't understand, Dr. Your days are idle. Housekeeping is not enough to keep you busy, so your imagination works. It works and it breeds. Fears, suspicions, foolishness. Now you're treating me like a child, Dr. I knew you as a child. I know. Believe me, Vicki. Find something to do and you will no longer dream of, of signposts that disappear. Please, Dr. Goodbye, Vicki. I'm sorry, but I must make another call. Evasions and lies. Lies as if I were a child. But I understood my dream. The thing with two faces was water. My husband, Walter, mocking me. Two-faced water, hating me behind his hypocritical smile. I had proof of Walter's shameful pretense the following morning. Going somewhere, Walter? Yes, to the office. On Saturday? The new sales campaign has us all on the jump. We have theater tickets, but tonight I'll have dinner ready early. Theater tickets? Oh, I'd forgotten. Can I beg off, Vicki? You have other plans for tonight, too? Oh, just to talk shop with some of the staff. Why don't you make it a twosome with Helen? I made it a twosome with Helen the last time and the time before, Walter. Now, let's not have another quarrel. We live together, but we live apart, Walter. I'm married and I'm alone. Why, Walter? Oh, come now. It's not as bad as it is. It is as bad as that. Why, Walter? Well, you're magnifying things now. Stop being foolish. Call Helen so that extra theater ticket doesn't go to waste. At breakfast the following Monday morning, I got a clue to where Walter was really spending his time. And with whom? I'm bringing a dinner guest home with me tonight, Vicki. Oh, who? A business associate. Her name is Martha Coles. Oh, and Vicki, I want dinner tonight to be an event. She's that important to you? She could be. Martha's quite influential in the firm. You know, the right word from Martha to the proper parties, that kind of thing. So really outdo yourself, hm? Our business associate. How transparent. The shameless liar, the cheat. He was bringing her home with him to flaunt her, to humiliate me. She came that night, young as I was old, young with a face and figure that turned men's heads. I watched Walter's eyes adore her at dinner. Another helping of something, Martha? Oh, where do I get another stomach? I've watched Walter's eyes melt into hers over champagne. The champagne deserves a toast, Walter. All right, a toast. That Forester Williams account. May the dear benevolent fates ear market Walter Kent. Business after hours. Walter, you've a horribly one-track mind. I was sick of it. Ignored. As if I didn't exist. If you too will excuse me. Oh, is something wrong, Vicki? I have a headache. I'm going to lie down. Good night, Miss Coles. Well, good night, Vicki. Oh, I'll be fine. But thank you for your concern. And please stay as late as you like. Don't let me spoil your fun. But I didn't lie down. I listened and I watched. I watched them dance. I listened to their laughter. I watched them whisper closely, mouth to ear. I called confidence, like lovers. Later, when a taxi had called to take her away, Walter pretended great, although well-meaning fatigue. I'm beat. Martha's all right, but she's wearing, although she'd never go home. Flies. But his eyes weren't pretending. The truth was right there. In his eyes, I was to be cast aside. But sadly, neglect, estrangement, loneliness. That was their method. That and other cruelties. Like anniversaries that came and passed. Enterly and thoroughly. Mrs. Vicki Kent. Yes? A package for you. Signed here. Right here? Yes, that's right, ma'am. Thank you. It was a gift from Walter. A monogram cigarette case. An anniversary gift from Walter. A 20th anniversary. Ordered and delivered without warmth of feeling. Delivered impersonally by an office boy. Then one day, not long after, the subtleties dropped. A newspaper left purposely on the bedroom bureau for me to read. Left open to a personal column where an item must catch my eyes. Sailing tonight for Paris on the ocean liner Champlain. Lovely lady executive, Martha Coles. Well, Martha Coles was going abroad. But not alone, as I soon discovered. Hello? Vicki? Yes, Walter? Look, something important just came up. I have to go abroad for several weeks. When, Walter? Right away, tonight on the Champlain. You had no idea you were sailing until now, Walter? Not the slightest. Bronson was supposed to go, but... But what, Walter? Well, he had a sudden appendicitis attack. So? So I have to go in his place. Say, why this cross-examination? Well, I think it's strange that you... Oh, come on, Vicki. Look, I... I haven't the time to argue. Shall I come to see you off? Well, you're due at that bridge party tonight, aren't you, with Helen's? You'd rather I went to Helen's? Well, sailings are a bore. I won't get to the Champlain until the very last minute, but make your own choice. Bye now. Goodbye, Walter. Lies. A tissue of lies. I didn't go to see Walter off, but I went to see her off. Vicki! What a pleasant surprise. I read you were sailing. I thought I bid you bon voyage. How nice. Sorry I have nothing to celebrate with. Nothing liquid, I mean. Cigarette. Oh, I have some here, thank you. What a stunning cigarette case. An anniversary gift. Light. Thank you. Sailing for business or for pleasure? Business, mainly. Oh, too bad it isn't just pleasure. Walter was aboard too. What? I'm this ship. Oh, didn't you know? No, I had no idea. Martha. Yes, Vicki? You love Walter. What did you say? You love my husband. This trip you're taking together is just another humiliation. Vicki, you're insane. But you'll not have it your way. That's why I came to see that you don't. Vicki, wait! Please! Vicki! She lay at my feet. The bullet had been lost in the noises through our farewells. I went home, feeling freer than I had felt for so long. The weight in my heart wasn't hard to bear now. I'd murdered Martha Coles. But it wasn't murder. It was justice. Martha Coles was dead now. Sacred things could remain sacred. I'd killed, but I had no guilt. No guilt at all. Vicki? Vicki, are you still awake? Walter. Hello. Surprise. Yes, of course. You mean? Sailed its merry way without me. Well, how come? Bronson evidently was just imagining his appendicitis attack. Lucky for me. Flucky, Walter? Of course. Oh, I, uh... I want to tell you, do you remember Martha Coles? Yes, of course. Well, an awful thing happened on the Champlain tonight. Martha was sailing on it, and the store discovered her in her stateroom. She was murdered. Martha was murdered? She was shot to death. But why? Who? Well, that's a police puzzle. Why and who? My guess is that old Turner is going to find himself wallowing in suspects. Turner? Chief of homicide. He soon discovered that the deceased had a host of admirers quite ready to kill her. Well, ain't Martha was a bit of a modern Dewberry. You seem so casual, Walter, about Martha Coles. You were close. Huh? In business, I mean. Close? Frankly, Vicki, and with all respect to the dead, she was an important woman, yes, but... a frightful bore. A liar. The artful, hypocritical liar. Two days later, over breakfast, Walter really began his insidious persecution of me. According to the newspaper, Turner's being remarkably reticent about the Martha Coles murder. Reticent, Walter? Hmm. It's in 48 hours now, but no statement. That certainly means something. Why should that mean something, Walter? When he's at a complete loss, Turner runs off at the mouth. He bombards the press with releases. But when he's really got a clue, turn your clams up. It's very non-committal. But I suppose there is no clue. Oh, there always is. You can be sure. Some chance passerby who saw the murderer come or go or an incriminating article lost or overlooked in the panic of escape. There's always something. The trick is to find it. Ted, Walter suspect me. This incessant talk about Turner, Turner, and my ears catching at my throat. Was it deliberate? Or is it... There's always a clue. Could there be a clue? A chance passerby who knew me? No, no, I'd want to live. Something lost or overlooked. My hat or gloves or handbag. I must remember this. I'd stood just inside the cabin door just to accuse, just to destroy, just to smoke a cigarette. And then to... just to smoke? A cigarette case. It wasn't in my handbag. Or in my bureau. Or anywhere. Not anywhere. Turner had it. I'd left my cigarette case in Father's cabinet. Turner, the chief of homicide, had it. I'd forgotten you. Everything. About the cigarette case. Turner, the... Walter knew. It was playing cat and mouse, letting me suffer. For long dreary evenings. We sat across from each other in the park. We sat in silence. And he punished me. Oh, Vicki. Yes, Walter? I saw Helen this morning. Helen? Vicki missed you at that bridge party the other night. The other night? You forgotten? The night I was to sail. The same night Martha... I... I decided I was tired of bridge. Find something better to do? I asked, did you find something better to do? Yes. Yes, something much better. What, the movies? Yes, yes, the movies. Oh, what picture did you see? Something I... I don't remember. Why this inquisition, Walter? Inquisition? Vicki, are you feeling all right? Questioning me heartfully. Like a detective. Questions punishing me. Night and day. At night in the parlor and in the morning at breakfast. More coffee, please, Vicki. Aren't you breakfasting? No. Yes, every morning for a week now. No breakfast. Aren't you overdoing the dieting? I'm slender. My measurements haven't changed in 20 years. I haven't added one ounce. But you see me as obese. I what? Hey, hold on a minute. I'm wrinkled. Crow's feet here, around the eyes. But I can't help that. You're really in the jumps. I have no idea. By the way, it is a crow's feet, definitely not. They're smile wrinkles. And very attractive. You were all smiles once. What's happened to that girl? Where'd she go? She died. I've neglect. Without the warmth of love, she... she withered away. Without the warmth? Well, I get it. That crack was aimed at me. The unfeeling husband. The insensitive, self-glutting brute. How you try and try to make that characterization fit. You really got me built to build inside. Stop it. I can't stand any more of your pretense. What I can't stand any more of it. If you can possibly calm down so we can talk. Get things straight. All right. Some other time. No, no, no. Not some other time. No. We'll talk now, Walter, and no more lies. Lies? I can't remember a time or occasion. Why in the name of Hannah would I ever want a lie to you? I warned you. No more lies, Walter. Vicki, put that gun away. You were in love with Martha Coles. I what? You were in love with Martha Coles. Vicki, that's crazy. Now put that gun away. You loved her. You'll never forget her. Now confess. You're an insane star. I can't stand being lied to any more. Confess to an insane idea. I'd have... I can't. Vicki, you're... Walter was on the floor dying. But I didn't really care. You're dying, Walter. But you don't have to go alone in death. There's Martha. Yes? Reach out for her hand. Go ahead. The hand of the corpse you remember so well. You're insane. No, no more lies, Walter. There's no need to lie anymore. You're free now. Martha is yours for all eternity. It was you. You murdered Martha Coles. You were the one. You knew that all along, didn't you, Walter? But first I was to be punished. First I was to be tortured. First my mind was to be filled with fear over a missing monogram cigarette case. A monogram cigarette case? Yes. The gift for 20 years of marriage presented to me tenderly by an office boy. That was the clue I left in Martha's cabin. There's always a clue, isn't there, Walter? Your cigarette case is in my coat pocket. You'll see. In your coat pocket? Yes. I took it to have work done on it. Work done on it? Work done on it? What work done on it, Walter? What work? Diamonds. Cut rubies set in it. And an inscription. To my dear wife on our 20th anniversary. Oh, Vicki, Vicki. See how wrong you were. We're about everything. Watched him die. And his eyes grew round. He stared at me. His eyes stared at me. Open and deaf. Wide in approach. But I believed him. A dying man doesn't lie. But I believed him. Too late. But for the first time, I believed him. You've been listening to Dagger of the Mind starring Claire Neeson and Leon Janney and written especially for suspense by John Roberts. Suspense is produced and directed by Bruno Zorato Jr. Music supervision by Ethel Huber. Sound patterns by Joseph Kibibbo. Heard in tonight's story where Evelyn Juster is Martha Coles. Ralph Comargo is Dr. Randall. And Guy Rep is the office boy. Listen again next week when we return with That Real Crazy Infinity written by Dick W. Dowling. Another tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Thanks for watching.