 Now, Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world, Roma Wines, present. Suspense. Tonight, Roma Wines bring you, Miss Joan Loring, as star of The Great Horrell, a suspense play produced, edited and directed for Roma Wines by Williams Fear. Suspense. Radio's outstanding theatre of thrills is presented for your enjoyment by Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines. Those excellent California wines that can add so much pleasantness to the way you live, to your happiness in entertaining guests, to your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now, a glassful would be very pleasant, as Roma Wines bring you Joan Loring in a remarkable tale of... Suspense. Come to order. This council is prepared to proceed. For the prosecution we are, Your Honor. The defense? Yes, Your Honor. Very well. The district attorney may call his witnesses. Your Honor, my first witness is a document. This document, duly entered as evidence of this court and marked exhibit A, is the diary of Alma Horrell. I should like the court's permission to read from this diary certain entries, beginning with May the 14th, which I consider to be relevant to this case. Granted. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is the diary of the defendant, Alma Horrell. May the 14th, we open tonight in St. Louis. It is a shock to realize that today marks the fifth anniversary of my association with The Great Horrell, and that for all but a few months of that time I have been married to him. The Great Horrell, the marked mentalist. That's the masked mentalist, jury. It is doubly shocking, as I look back, to realize how profoundly I have been affected by those five years as the wife and assistant of the world's greatest mind reader. For there is no doubt that he is that. As I write these lines, I am sitting in a quiet corner of the wings, where I can watch Paul's nimble feet out on the stage, the way he charms his audience. But such sounds as these, with their familiar and well-remembered ring from five years of vaudeville and heart-trooping, scarcely register upon my mind tonight. For today I have finally faced the terrible fear that has been haunting me through the gathering nightmare of these past months. If I have not faced it sooner it is because my mind quailed before the thought and all its implications. The evidence has always been there and a thousand little acts and instances almost from the first. Perhaps meeting Paul has forced the decision. Certainly I can wait no longer and avoid decision. Tonight I must put it to the test. What the result would be I already know. What steps for my salvation will lie ahead thereafter I have not dared to contemplate. I will ask a member of the audience to step up here on the stage and blindfold me. You sir, the great holler will thank you. Do you have a handkerchief on? Yes. Good. Take the handkerchief. You will fold your handkerchief and tie it over my eyes. Yes, right over the mask. That's it. Knotted in the back of my head. Good and tight. Blend it. Now tell me. Are you certain that I can see nothing through this blindfold? Well, if you can, you must have X-ray eyes. Very well. Now I shall ask my assistant to select some member of the audience who will give you some personal object. Anything at all. I shall attempt to identify that object entirely by the transmission of fourth waves. By reading the mind of my assistant. Are you ready? I'm off. Yes, I am. My assistant has selected the victim. It is a... yes, it is a gentleman. My assistant now has a role in to see it, Alma. Yes, I'm holding it. The picture. Yes, laged man. He has a beard. It is a picture of Abraham Lincoln on a five dollar bill. On the serial number of that five dollar bill. Do you have the number well in mind, Alma? Yes, I have. Good. Will the gentleman take the bill back again, then, please? Does the gentleman now have the bill in his possession again? The gentleman has. Concentrate, please, Alma. No, no, no, no, I'm not getting it. Now that's better. The serial number of the five dollar bill the gentleman has in his hand is... That's right. Congratulations. You were practically perfect, didn't I? Martin, I want to talk to you. That all means? No, turn around, look at me, Martin. This is terribly important. It also happens to be quite important for me to get this grease paint off. Go ahead, Alma, I'm listening. Martin, you just said I was practically perfect tonight. No, you were indeed my dear. Your signals came through with unusual clarity. But, Martin... Good heavens, Alma, you've been doing this long enough to know what I mean. Martin, I didn't give you any signals tonight. What? I didn't give you any signals. Very well. The word then is not perfect. You were miraculous. Does that suit you better? Martin, look at me. Don't you see what that means? What's the matter with you, Alma? You can read my mind. Can I? You can read my mind, Martin. Oh, very well, Alma. If you wish to believe that, I'm sure it can only have the excellent effect of making the act even more believable to the audience. I can't go on this way. Alma, this is all a lot of nonsense, you know? No, it isn't. You haven't even denied it. I've seen it coming for months. Little things at first, Martin, at home, on the street, until my most intimate thoughts went my own, until my mind wasn't my own, until I have no mind. Just what is this little scene leading up to, Alma? Martin, you've got to let me go. You've got to set me free. Let you go? Yes, give me a divorce. Go, Alma, you're being hysterical. Martin, please. Alma, I've devoted five years to my association with you. I've trained you until, yes, until you were perfect. I'm sorry, Martin, I'm sorry for all that, but I've got to have my freedom. Are you thinking of Paul Wilson? You know what I'm thinking. I see. Then you do understand, Martin. I understand that you'll be a very little used to me in your present condition. Never, I can never go on again. Very well. It just so happens I received only this afternoon a very lucrative offer to Moss Trade. What? They'll even supply a partner, apparently not fully appreciating your importance in the scheme of things. I shall accept. Oh, thank you, Martin. I shall accept. But I shall return in about three months. Meanwhile, we shall forget Paul Wilson, won't we? I shall expect you to be fully rested when I return and in a reasonable frame of mind. Rested? And as for your freedom, Alma, understand this. You'll never, never be free from me. Set your mind to that. My mind. My mind. Between the acts of suspense, this is Ken Niles for Roma Wines. Last week, ladies and gentlemen, many of you heard me announce for Roma the first release of Grand Estate Wines. Tonight, I bring you the story behind Roma's proud presentation of premier quality, Grand Estate Wines. Years ago, Roma Vintners set as their goal a limited bottling of truly outstanding wines. Beginning with a selection of choice grapes, Roma Vintners unhurriedly created five superior wines, each with a character born of timeless skill, each rich in the brilliant clarity, full fragrance and mellow taste, which distinguish and indisputably great wine. Today, at last, Roma, America's greatest vintner, offers you these fine Grand Estate Wines, each fully reflecting the patient perfection of Roma wine-making methods, each assuring you unvarying excellence always. For the host to offer, for the guest to give, Grand Estate Wines are a regal expression of hospitality, a flattering gesture of good taste. So choose and enjoy all five Grand Estate California wines, medium sherry, ruby port, golden muscatel, burgundy, and sauterre. Remember the name, Grand Estate Wines by Roma, the crowning achievement of vintner skill. And now Roma wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage Joan Loring as Alma in The Great Horrell, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. I am free. But last after all these months and years of haunting fear, I am free. Even the terrible revelation of two days ago, the final certainty that my husband could read my mind, now seems almost like the fading shadow of a bad dream compared to that wonderful fact. He is leaving and I am free. What does it matter now that he says he is coming back, or even that half-failed threat that he will never give me my freedom? I am prepared for that. For now I shall make the decisions. For the first time in five long years, my mind is my own, released at last from that constant crushing insidious influence of his. And I will do the planning. Tomorrow Paul and I are going to see a lawyer. But by the time Martin Horrell does come back, I will no longer be his wife. I will be Mrs. Paul Wilson. Can I help you? Mrs. Martin Horrell to see Mr. Banning. Do you have an appointment? Yes, for two o'clock. Have a seat, please. Thank you. Mrs. Horrell to see Mr. Banning. Thank you. Mr. Banning, we'll see you in just a moment, Mrs. Horrell. Thank you. Oh, Paul darling, I can hardly believe it. I know. How long will it take? Six weeks if I go to Reno. Can we manage that, darling? Sure, we'll manage it somehow. How do you think Horrell is going to take it? I don't care how he takes it, do you? Maybe I'm a cat and a homewrecker, but I don't. Silly. I only wish you directed years ago what there was of it. After all, Paul, what can he say? In spite of all his high-flown speeches about coming back after me and never giving me my freedom, he did leave me. Sure, although I'll never know why you didn't leave him long before this. Because, Paul, I'm not sure that I could have. Not sure that you could have? I'm not sure he'd have let me. Yes? Yes, Mr. Banning. Mr. Banning, we'll see you now, Mrs. Horrell. Thank you. Let's go ride in. Come with me, Paul. No. No, Paul, you wait here. Oh, Mrs. Horrell? Yes. Sit down, please. Thank you. Now, what can we do for you? Well, you see, Mr. Banning, I'm married to a vaudeville artist, Mr. Martin Horrell. We've had an act together for the past five years, a mind-reading act. The great Horrell it's called. Oh, yes, yes, I believe I've heard of it. Yesterday my husband left me. He's gone to Australia. I see. And so I want to... Yes? And so I want... You want legal counsel, Mrs. Horrell? I... You can speak frankly with me, Mrs. Horrell. Is it something about a divorce? No. Then what is it? I don't know. You don't know? No. Well, there's not much we can do for you if you don't know what it is you want us to do for you. How is that? No. Well then, I suppose you'll come in at some later time when your mind is really made up. Yes, sir. All right. I'm very sorry. That's all right, Mrs. Horrell. I quite understand. Good day. Good day. Oh, well, that was quick. Now, well, what's the matter? It's nothing, Paul. What is the sheet? What happened? We were going to have to wait a little while for the divorce. Wait? Why? Paulie, it's a lot more complicated than I thought. How could I tell him? We'd been so sure of happiness. And then this. I knew what it was, of course. I knew at the moment I tried to say that one divorce. Now the incredible, the terrifying fact stares me in the face that Martin Horrell still reads my thoughts. Separated by thousands of miles, he still has the power when he wishes to invade the innermost recesses of my mind as easily as he would walk into a drawing room. I know because I felt his presence there. And so I shut off my thoughts, emptied my mind as I have always done to guard my slightest secret. But what am I to do now? I must think. I must plan very carefully. I dare not tell Paul if I possibly can avoid it. An even more horrifying thought. If Martin Horrell's mind exerts such power over me as this, how much further can he go in the 22nd? For weeks I have moved in a nightmare of conflicting panicking thoughts and indecision. And today something happened, trivial in itself, but having a significance that has left me shaken than appalled. This afternoon I was to meet Paul early and we were to go to the beach. But I was late. I was terribly late. It was nearly dark before I got to his hotel. Oh, so there you are. What have you been? What are you even doing? I've been waiting here for nearly three hours. Paul, you'll never believe this. Sure, I'll believe it, but it better be good. I've been feeding the swans. Feeding the swans? Yes, in Central Park. Oh, but Alma, we had a date. If you've held up somehow or got lost, put in jail, but feeding the swans. Oh, listen, I've got to tell you something. I'm listening. First about the lawyer. I didn't ask for a divorce. What do you mean? I couldn't. You couldn't? Paul, he's reading my mind again. He's reading my mind. Alma. It's true, Paul. But he's in Australia. I know, I know, but when I began to talk to the lawyer, he was in my mind. It doesn't seem possible. I know it doesn't seem possible, but it is. It was the same thing about the swans only worse. The swans? I didn't even know what I was doing, Paul. The date I had with you, everything just went out of my mind. And there I was feeding the swans until it was as though I suddenly woke up. And then I knew. You what? Why I was there. Paul, today's the anniversary of my marriage to Martin Horrell. Well, that was what we did. Martin and I, the day we were married. Oh. He made me do it, Paul. He reached out across all those miles and made me do it again today. He made me forget everything and just remember that. Remember him. Wow. How could he? He did. Paul, if he can do that, he can do anything, can't he? I don't know. He could even make me commit murder. July 7th. Yesterday I bought a gun. I don't know why, but something told me that I must. And today I found my opportunity to use it. It was early in the afternoon. I was in Brooklyn. I did not know why. And then I was going into a pier. They were playing a combined bill of a current motion picture in Waterville. Again, I did not know particularly why I was there, but it seemed quite natural. I found a seat near the back of the house. A new act was just beginning. Ladies and gentlemen, the masked marvel of metalism. The great Horrell. For a moment I sat stunned, unable to believe that I was not dreaming. But it was. He seemed to have changed a little. The voice, perhaps, something about his hair, but it was. And so I knew. I knew why I was there. I knew that he had drawn me there. Told me to come there as surely as though he had summoned me with his voice. But I knew something else. I knew why I had bought the gun. I knew at last the terrible price I was prepared to pay to win my freedom. I knew what was coming next. I knew that out of all that audience I would be selected. I knew this was the chance he had been waiting for. But now I also knew it was the chance I had been waiting for. I was on my feet and making my way towards the aisle. My handbag was open. My fingers around the grip of the automatic. Now, ladies and gentlemen, perhaps there are some of you who believe that there's some trick to this. That it's all done with mirrors. Not before we go to Father. I'm going to ask some feminine member of the audience to step up here on the stage and blam for me. I'm going to volunteer. I see young ladies standing in back of the house. Will the young lady come up on the stage please? No. Don't be bashful. Step right up. You're not afraid of me aren't you? Or perhaps the young lady is afraid I'll read her mind. Perhaps she's harboring some guilty secret. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that is the last entry in the diary of Alma Hurrell. You may judge for yourselves the significance of her words. I should like now to put into evidence the words of another witness, Paul Wilson. This is a statement by Paul Wilson placed in my hands only a short time ago and with the permission of the court. I will read it to you. Permission granted. These are the words of Paul Wilson. I am writing this hoping that it will never see the light of day. But if it ever does, I can only hope that it will be used wisely and unjustly and justly and not as an instrument of vengeance or retaliation. I have been involved with Alma Hurrell since the first day I met her. I am still in love with her. By the greatest of good fortune it was not too difficult to hush up the affair in the Brooklyn Theater. After she fired the second shot someone grabbed her and they took her to the manager's office. She had the good sense to say nothing and to contact me at once. The theater manager didn't want trouble and after I'd spoken to Hurrell's agent, a fellow I'd never seen before, it became apparent that he didn't want to press charges either. Of course it was impossible to explain why she'd done it. No one knew that except Alma herself and me. And I knew that it was up to me to help her somehow in as quickly as I could. I got hold of the best psychiatrist in town, Dr. Emil Hochman. He came to see Alma the very next day at her apartment. This feeling you have Mrs. Hurrell, that your husband has control over your mind, it has been growing stronger? It is not a feeling, Dr. Hochman. It's a certainty. Oh, I see. There really isn't any other way to explain what's happened, is there? Well, it's severely unusual, yes. Perhaps you would care to discuss it with me further at my office. Do you think there is anything that can be done? Yes, I'd like to very much. Good, good. Shall we say tomorrow at two then? Yes, tomorrow at two. Until then, Mrs. Hurrell. I'll show you to the door, Doctor. Oh, thank you. Bye, Doctor. Goodbye. I'm almost frantic, Doctor. I thought of going to Hurrell himself. I thought of almost everything. Do you think something can be done? You see, Mr. Wilson, when two people live so closely together over a number of years as Mr. and Mrs. Hurrell, it's not unusual that they may... Well, occasionally, shall we say, anticipate each other's thoughts. Yes, I suppose so. The matter of the anniversary, a subconscious recollection. Of the theatre? Well, she must, of course, notice somewhere, perhaps forgotten it, that Mr. Hurrell was back in the United States. Yes. But his reading her mind, projecting thoughts into her mind, there's no scientific proof whatsoever that such a thing is even remotely possible. And that's what makes it so terrible. I don't wish to alarm you, Mr. Wilson, but... Well, we shall perhaps find out more tomorrow. Good day, sir. Goodbye, Doctor. Thank you. Is that the paper, Paul? Oh, yes. It was outside the door. Is there anything in it about my... I'll see. Mm-hmm. There's a little something here on the theatrical page. What? I guess he couldn't resist the publicity, but it just says unidentified young woman. Oh. It's funny he never tried to get in touch with you, isn't it? But he did, Paul, didn't he? Alma. What? It wasn't Hurrell at all. Look here. What? He'd sold the act in Australia, the name and everything. What, Paul? Alma. He was hurt shortly after he arrived. That's why he sold the act. And he died out there. Died? Martin Hurrell has been dead for almost a month. Oh. I see. What? I really should have known, I suppose. Known what, Alma? That it was someone much closer to me than Martin Hurrell who was reading my mind. Listen, Alma, the doctor says... You knew all the facts. It's you who's been reading my mind, isn't it, Paul? Alma, the doctor says that's impossible. He says there's no... But you should have realized, Paul, that if I was willing to kill Martin Hurrell for my freedom, I would be willing to kill you, too. Alma... Yes, Paul. I still have a gun. No use locking yourself in there, Paul. Because you see I'm going to wait. I've locked myself in. But the room in which I'm writing this is a sheer drop of 15 stories to the street. And there's no telephone. Not that it matters. I wouldn't escape even if I could. I must try to save her. Because either this is some ghastly misunderstanding, or Alma is hopelessly insane. What I have written here, I shall hide somewhere in this room. I shall hide it in such a way that it can never be discovered except by the painstaking search of someone looking for evidence. Evidence of murder. And now, I'm going to unlock the door. Alma, I'm coming out. I want to talk to you. Yes, Paul. Alma, I know what you're thinking. Yes, Paul. I'm sure you know what I'm thinking. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached the verdict? We have. How do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty? We find the defendant, Alma Horrell, did deliberately shoot and killed Paul Wilson. We further recommend a cheaply confined for the rest of her natural life to an institution for the criminally insane. They said I was insane. What do they know of the torture depth that lie beneath the surface of the human mind? I know because it is beginning again. It is Dr. Hochman. He has been coming nearly every day to visit me. He thinks he too can see into my brain and know my thoughts. But I have made my mind a blank. There's nothing there for anyone to read. And so he won't know. He doesn't know that I have hidden a table knife and sharpened it all night against the stone. When he comes tomorrow, I shall be ready. Suspended. Presented by Roma Wimes, R-O-M-A. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is Ken Niles to tell you of a luxurious new experience in wine enjoyment. An experience you share with discriminating wine users everywhere when first you taste grand estate wines by Roma. Yes, to bring you the ultimate in wine pleasure, Roma Vintners carefully selected the finest of California grapes. Then with infinite skill and winemaking resources unmatched in America, Roma Vintners patiently guided to taste perfection these magnificent grand estate wines. Today, grand estate wines are yours to enjoy. Yours to serve, proudly. No matter what the occasion, the host who possesses all five grand estate California wines is sure to please all tastes at all times. For smart entertaining, delight your guests with grand estate medium sherry, ruby port, or golden muscatel. For gracious dining, serve grand estate burgundy or sautern, each a triumph in taste luxury. So, rely on grand estate wines by Roma, crowning achievements of Vintner skill. Joan Loring will soon be seen in the Warner Brothers production, The Verdict. Thursday, same time, Roma Wines will bring you Mr. Hume Cronin, as star of Suspense, Radio's outstanding Theater of Frills, produced by Williamsphere for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.