 Suspense. Autolight and its 96,000 dealers present Mr. Edward Arnold in Account Payable. A suspense play produced and edited by William Spear. It's a pip for pep and power. What is, Harlow? A beaut for bustling bounce and brawn. Yeah, but what? It's the famous auto light-stay-full battery. The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use. Why its larger liquid reserve above the plates, as compared to ordinary batteries, helps leak one of the leading causes of battery failure. It has an extra lifeguard, too. Fiberglass retaining mats to protect every positive plate. Yes, they're in tests conducted according to SAE life cycle standards. Autolight-stay-full batteries gave 70% longer average life than batteries without stay-full features. So friends, get an auto light-stay-full battery for your car. And remember, you're always right with auto light. Oh, a reminder, suspense on television may be seen in many parts of the country every Tuesday night. And now, with Account Payable and with the performance of Mr. Edward Arnold, auto light hopes once again to keep you in suspense. When you wait for something, a minute seems like an hour, an hour like a century. I've heard that all my life, but now, waiting for a door to open, a door at the far end of the big office, at last I realize the true meaning of those words. He's in there, in that office. But he won't be the one to open the door this time. A dead man doesn't open doors. Sooner or later, someone will have to discover that body. But why do I feel it must be later? It seems like almost all my life I've watched Mr. Waterbury's door, the door at the far end of the office marked private, bang open on that fighting, snarling voice. Mr. Baker, Mr. Timothy Baker, will you come in here? And I'd quickly lay down my pencil, take off my eye shade, pick up the Account Payable ledger, and walk the full length of the office. But all eyes upon me until I was at that impersonal, frosted glass door. As many times as I'd walked down that aisle, as well as I knew these people all around me, it still made me uncomfortable. And as many times as I'd been in Mr. Waterbury's office, I still trembled slightly inside. Well, Baker, have you the Account Payable ledger with you? Yes, Mr. Waterbury, right here. Drop a chair, Baker. I want to go over these with you. I'll stand if you don't mind. Stand? That's right. Those chairs are too heavy for you to move. That it? Too heavy. Too heavy. Waterbury's favorite joke, because I'm a big man, but he's a wiring giant. There were only two things we had in common, Mr. Waterbury and I. We worked in the same office, and we were both sick men. But after five o'clock, after five o'clock, my life was different. I shook off my bounds, and I was king. My daughter, my Jesse, would be waiting for me. And every night I knew that there was no indignity to John Whatbury or anyone else in the world could subject me to. It wasn't more than I've weighed by a single smile from my little girl. Jesse, Jesse, darling. I'll be with you in a second, Dad. Dinner's already. All right, dear. I'll wash up. Jesse, yes. You've got to get away from me. My face is all wet. All right. There. I'll have another option of fiction until I'm fed and careful. I got your favorite tonight. Lam's stew. Fine. Yes. There's only one place set, aren't you there? It's a Timothy Baker. How can you have such a brilliant, beautiful, thoughtful daughter when you're so absent-minded? Wednesday night, remember? Dinner date, remember? Fraternity party, remember? Oh, yes. I completely forgot. Tonight at eight, huh? Well, well, and what time do you leave? Well, I'll have a cup of coffee with you, and then I'm going over to Margaret's house and then boys will pick us up there. Ah, that's wonderful. At last, an evening alone. Baker, you won't know what to do with yourself. Well, you'll sit up and read a mystery book to like them home, and then you'll say, Home already? Didn't you enjoy yourself? All right, all right. You win. Who's taking you? I don't know. What? Won't know, in fact, until he picks me up at Margaret. Isn't that exciting? Yes, I'm sure. Well, all right. Where's my napkin? And sure enough, I was sitting up in bed with the mystery book when she came home. I heard her close the door and come up the stairs. Jesse? Dad, put down that book and get to sleep. Enjoy yourself? Ah, I had a wonderful time, Dad. Perfectly grand. It's two o'clock and you've got to get up at seven and so good night. Good night, dear. I knew that someday Jesse would marry and leave me for a home of her own. It didn't worry me, although I thought 20 was well a rather tender age. She was so shy this time. No mention of the boy. Just a new bloom in her cheeks. A distant look in her eyes. During the days that followed, I was practically living in the house by myself. Jesse was so lost in her own little world. Then there was a black night. The night I heard the door slam. It wasn't like Jesse not to say good night, even if it was only a cold word through my closed door. I sat still for a moment, then put down my book and got out of bed. I could hear Jesse sobbing. Night, Dad. Jesse? Jesse, what's the matter? Nothing, it's nothing. Jesse, darling, what's wrong? Oh, Dad, I'm so unhappy. Oh, there, sweetheart. What's the trouble? Nothing can be that bad. Nothing in the world should make you cry like that. It's Bill. And, oh, Dad, I'm so in love with him. I know it, and I... Oh, I see, you had a fight. Oh, no. No, he hasn't done a thing except be sweet and wonderful and thoughtful and kind. Well, then what's wrong? Hasn't he got a job? He's studying. He'll build a doctor in about another year. No, it's not that. It's his father. His father? Yes, his father. He didn't know Bill was going with me. When he met me, when he bumped into us on the street by mistake, he even seemed to like me, until... Until what? Oh, come, tell me, tell me. Oh, Dad, Bill's father is Mr. Waterbury. And when he found out I was your daughter, he... I felt the blood rush to my head and my body grow weak. Mr. John Waterbury. The daughter of a bookkeeper. Even this head bookkeeper wasn't fit for his son. His son was going to be a doctor. I felt myself going dizzy. Oh, Dad, sit down. Oh, Dad, it's not another attack, is it? Oh, please sit here. Oh, I didn't mean to upset you. Oh, Dad. I was prepared for the next day. I knew Mr. Waterbury would call me. And for the first time in my life, I was prepared to stand up to him. He could do what he wanted to me, but not to my Jesse. I'd quit, I'd take her to South America. I'd... Baker, come in here at once. Come in, Baker. Yes, Mr. Waterbury. Close that door. Yes, Mr. Waterbury. Baker, how long have you worked for me? 22 years last November, sir. And this is how you pay me back? I don't understand. You understand. Baker, my son graduates from medical school in just one year. He'll do it without a wife. I won't have him getting serious with a girl, especially one who can do him no good. A doctor, a young doctor starting out today needs to marry position, family, society. Otherwise, he's licked before he begins. Do you understand me? Yes, sir. Now, I have nothing against you. Your daughter is a pretty girl. But let her go with her own class. Let her stay in her own class. But, Mr. Waterbury, yes. I... Yes, yes. What is it? What is it? I didn't know she was going with your son. Well, she has been. And I won't have it, you hear? I won't have it. Please, Mr. Waterbury, don't get excited. You're asthma. Oh, blast the asthma. I won't have it, you understand? I won't have it. Please don't excite yourself. I'm not excited. But, sir, I... I'm all right. Needle. My desk drawer. Draw. Get the needle. For the past ten years, Mr. Waterbury's asthma attacks had grown increasingly severe until he was forced to have an adrenaline-hypodemic handy at all times. For just such a case as this, the adrenaline was magic. The coughing stopped. He sent back in his chair, white and exhausted. That's... that's my final word, Picker. Your daughter. Yes, sir. I... I think I'm going to take the rest of the day off. Mr. Waterbury, I have to work on some records in the safe. What should I do? I'll leave it open. Make sure you close the safe when you leave. And lock my door. Yes, sir. My self-weakening power. For twenty-two years is a long time. The ingrained habit of twenty-two years kept me the bookkeeper in the box. I opened the safe and took out Mr. Waterbury's private ledger. In so doing, I knocked over a small lock box. The key was still in the lock and curiosity got the better of me. I snapped up the lid and... Five hundred dollar bills. Two thick packets of five hundred dollar bills. I counted fifty bills in each pack. Fifty thousand dollars. My mind raced. I remembered stories, rumors of black market operations and drugs. If this was the result, no wonder it was in cash and in the box. Waterbury had been to the bank yesterday and had come back with the package. This must be it. Undeclareable profit. Money without record. Money without claim. Illegal profit. If it was lost, no police force could be called in to recover it. It was... I was watching someone else. A tired old bookkeeper removing the money from the box, putting it in a large envelope. He stuffed the lock box with a package of brothers and I realized that this was me. This was Timothy Bacon. I was stealing the money. I locked the box, replaced it. I was putting the key in my pocket where he... I heard a hand on the door. I raised the seat cushion of a big black leather chair, jammed the envelope under it and turned to the ledger. I was working on it. Oh, Baker. Yes, Mr. Waterbury, yes. I was halfway out of the building. I forgot something. Did you see a little black metal box in the safe? Box? Oh, do you mean that one over there? Oh, yes, that's it. I've got to take it home. Goodbye, Baker. And don't forget to talk to your daughter tonight. A final warning, remember? Yes, Mr. Waterbury. I will. And remember to lock the safe. Yes, Mr. Waterbury. He closed the door and I stood there. I was thinking very clearly. He hadn't missed the key. But before long he wouldn't. And his next move would be to break the box open. And then, then he would remember. He would suspect me. That money was mine. I'd earned it. It would take me to South America. It would take us Jesse and me away from all the John Waterburys of the world. But I needed time. I had to get out before he discovered his loss. How? And then even if I did get away, he wouldn't know I had done it. And vindictive, he'd keep after me as long as he lived. As long as he lived. Yes, but what if Mr. John Waterbury were to die before he opened that box? Mr. Edward Arnold in Account Payable. Tonight's production in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. Suspends. Marlowe, did you ever drive a camel? Drive a camel? Why, I've driven camels to distraction. Since I've been spreading the word about auto lights, stay full batteries needing water only three times a year in normal car use. You mean you've given camels a complex? You bet. The dreary dromedaries are dejected, discouraged, distressed and dismayed because they can't hold a candle to auto lights larger liquid capacity. Wilcox, the camel-bater. Auto lights stay full batteries need water only three times a year in normal car use and it's their extra liquid reserve above the plates that helps eliminate one of the major causes of battery failure. Auto lights stay full batteries have fiberglass retaining mats protecting every positive plate and they have extra long life too. 70% longer average life in fact than batteries without stay full features according to tests based on SAE life cycle standards. It's the battery that makes camels cry. Yes, sir. The auto lights stay full batteries needs water only three times a year in normal car use. Get one for your car. Remember, you're always right with auto lights. And now auto light brings back to our Hollywood soundstage Edward Arnold in Account Payable A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Yes, I had the solution. Mr. Waterbury would die and I would have $50,000 a fitting retirement sum for 20 years of hard work but how? I looked around the room and knew that I was thinking more clearly more quickly than I ever had in my life. My eyes came to rest upon a group of sample bottles samples of new Waterbury drug company products. I picked up one small bottle marked poison. I felt the sudden rush of blood to my head. My body seemed to be floating weak. I was perspiring but something kept driving me to act and I quickly Poison. Poison! And how to administer it? How to? The hypodermic needle, of course. Poison, self-inflicted, technical suicide. It would be easy, simple. I emptied the adrenaline out of Mr. Waterbury's ever-present hypodermic needle and filled it with the colorless liquid from the bottle in my hand. This was the poison of freedom. The poison of my freedom. Mr. Baker, I'm sorry. What is it, Miss Jones? What is it? Mr. Baker, I'm in awful trouble. Could you come right away, please? I've got Abilene Texas on the phone and Mr. Baker, if Mr. Waterbury finds out, I'll get fired. All right, all right. I'll be right there. No, Mr. Baker, please, please, come now. All right. Lock the safe, will you? Sure thing. It was a maddening interruption. I was shaking with impatience and yet as I strode to the telephone as I talked to our representative in Texas I felt a new authority in my manner. A new strength of kind. It's completely insured. You haven't a thing to worry about. No, sir. Thank you, Mr. Peterson. Goodbye. You have lots of authority when you want to use it. Well, Miss Jones, you shouldn't get so excited. It doesn't pay. Oh. And now may I go back to my work? Of course, Mr. Baker. Miss Jones, Miss Jones! Yes? Miss Jones, this door to Mr. Waterbury's office. I can't open it. Well, you told me to lock it. Lock it, you stupid fool. Don't you know I haven't got the key? Don't you know nobody but Mr. Waterbury has the key? I told you to lock it. The safe! The safe! I told you to lock the safe, not the office. How am I going to get in there? Mr. Baker, Mr. Baker, please. Sit here. You're purple. Mr. Baker! Yes, I have painted. All I could visualize was that envelope under the cushion of a chair in Mr. Waterbury's office. The envelope with $50,000 so near and I couldn't get into that office until the next day. Why, even the cleaning woman had to get a key for Mr. Waterbury himself to go in there once a week. All I went home, there was nothing else to do. Tired, Dad? Why don't you go to bed? Oh, I'm really not tired, Jessie. I'm just a little nervous. But I told you, you shouldn't be. Don't worry about Bill or Mr. Waterbury or me. I won't. We'll work things out. You wait and see. Of course, dear, of course. Yes, I'll get to bed right away. But it was no use. Sleep just wouldn't come in. No, I could only think of Mr. Waterbury. Of a lockbox without a key. $50,000 of the broken heart of my darling Jessie and of a hypodermic needle filled with poison. Find me, it was morning and I was in the office. Mr. Boer, Waterbury was in when I arrived, even though I came a half hour early. The reports were that Waterbury was a raging man. I waited on edge. Baker, Mr. Baker, will you come in here? Yes, sir. Baker, when you were working here yesterday, did you see that lockbox? Oh, of course, Mr. Waterbury. I handed it to you, don't you remember? That's not what I mean. Did you see the key? Key? Key, yes, the key to the box. Was it in the safe? I don't know what you're talking about, sir. I didn't see any key. You fool. Didn't you see anything? No, sir. Baker, come here. Now, here is the safe. I've got to find that key. I've been all through it. Do you hear? It's not there. Well, I'll look for it, Mr. Waterbury. Yes, you look here. Look here. Maybe it fell under here. I'm sorry. I can't find anything. It even resembles a key. I'll get it. I'll get it. I'll get it. Yes! This is John Waterbury. What? It can't be. Thank you. I've got about this right now. You know that Baker, my boy, built it. Mr. Waterbury. Get the needle. I started to open mechanically the desk drawer when I froze to the spot. Waterbury was writhing on a floor, gasping for breath, turning in deep red color. I couldn't move. His eyes started to bulge and his face was contorted with agony. The drawer which held the hypodermic needle was half open in my hand when another thought flashed through my brain. Poison can be traced. Death from suffocation in the throes of an asthmatic attack could not be. Slowly I closed the desk drawer and stood near Waterbury. He could hardly breathe. He gasped speximatically. Years of incest and vowed beating flashed before me as I watched him transfixed. Then with one final convulse of gasp he stopped breathing and fell back. I waited until every muscle spasm stopped. I reached over and felt his heart and I knew that at last Mr. John Waterbury was dead. For control of myself I backed out of his office as though I was still talking to him. Yes, Mr. Waterbury. I'll take care of those accounts. Payable right away, sir. Yes, sir. Mr. Baker, how is he? You look scared to death. Oh, he's bad this morning. He's really on the war pad. He said you're not to bother him under any circumstances. So don't let any calls through or anything until he gives you the gory. Oh, don't worry. You couldn't get me inside that office not for anything. I don't blame you. I hope I never have to go in there again. I came back to my desk. An hour would give me time, an hour and I can compose myself so that I can face that dead body on the floor without exposing myself. I need that hour. In the Galloway, my assistant came up to me a few moments ago and... And did you go over that ledger of the old man's yesterday? Well, I didn't get too much chance, Peter. Miss Jones called me out of the office. Oh, yeah, yeah, I know. Miss Jones was in a jam again. You got locked out. Yeah, I remember. Hey, it's lucky you didn't leave that accounts payable ledger in there. The old man would have blown his top. Yes, but he blew his top anyhow. Oh, yeah? I wonder what's eating him. I don't know. Well, I got to get to that ledger. Oh, I'll just have to go in and beard the lion in his den. No, no, no, no, you can't! Well, I... I mean, I mean, you better wait an hour or so. I'll go in there in a little while and get it for you. Yeah, but I need it. There's something in there I need, too. I... Be a good boy, Peter. Have patience. You've got a wife and a family. You need your job. I've worked here for 22 years. I know Mr. Waterbury. Now, don't go in there just now. Well, okay, if you say so. What did you leave in there? Why, let... Oh, just something personal. Oh, oh, I see. Something personal. $50,000 that rightfully belonged to me. After Peter got away, went back to his desk and relaxed for a moment. And now I... Why... Why am I so frightened? Sooner or later, someone will have to discover that body. But why do I feel it must be later? Bill Waterbury, young Waterbury, my Jesse's bill just came in. Miss Jones is arguing with him. Look, Miss Jones, I know you're efficient. I know what a terror day it is, but this is important. But he doesn't want to be disturbed, Mr. Bill. I know his blood pressure's up and I know it's causing it. I'm the doctor. When he sees me, we explode completely or he'll calm down. Did he get a phone call about three-quarters of an hour ago? Yes, I think he did. But he left in trouble. Yeah, I know who called him and I know what his trouble is. You catch me if I come fly it out. I won't even answer. Well, here it goes. Mr. Baker, I was... I'm sorry, I mean that... Can I have some help in here, please? It's Dad. He's passed out. You're here. There, golly. You take his feet. We'll get him up on the floor. Here we go. Come on. That's it. You ought to get a pillow for his head. Tim, Tim, get a pillow. A pillow? Yeah, yeah, get anything. Miss Jones, Miss Jones, go get a glass of water. How's it coming, Bill? Where can I find a pillow? I don't know. Take that cushion off the black leather chair. That'll do. The black leather chair? Yeah. Don't bother, Mr. Baker. What? I said, don't bother. It isn't necessary. My father's dead. Dead? Must have had a bad attack and couldn't get to his adrenaline. I know what had happened some day. I just knew it. What do we do? Call the hospital or the police? I think you'd better call the police and report it. Yeah. Mr. Baker, would you... Would you please? Come on, snap out of it, Tim. Tim, you're shaking like a leaf. Oh, here, here, I'll do it. Tim, Tim! Mr. Baker, why are you painted again? What? No, he'll be all right. He's just painted. Get a doctor. Let me take care of him. I'm almost a doctor. I've got to take care of him. He doesn't know it, but he's my father-in-law. I married his daughter this morning. How is he? When I opened his collar. Say this is serious. What is this? Is he going to be all right? Poor Mr. Baker. You think I'd better call somebody? His pulse is terribly weak. We've got to act quickly. This isn't a normal painting. He almost feels... Do something. Do something. All right. I know. Roll up a sleeve, Mr. Jones. What? Adrenaline. A shot of adrenaline will bring him right around. Galloway. In the top drawer at Dad's desk, there's a little black box and a hypo needle. All right. It's filled with adrenaline. Hurry up. Bring it over here. That's it. He'll be all right now. Suspense presented by AutoLight. Tonight's star, Edward Arnold. Oh, say, Mr. Arnold. Yes, Mr. Wilcock. I understand you own an orange ranch out San Bernardino way. Where's Ryan? Well, I'm glad to know that. My lad, you have a very commercial glint in your eye. What else? Anyhow, on an orange ranch, you're using batteries for trucks, tractors, and stuff like that there. Your English is wrong, but your assumption is correct. All right. Come on. Give me the pitch on your AutoLight stay-full batteries. Well, time's limited here, Mr. Arnold, so I'll just repeat. AutoLight stay-full batteries need water only three times a year in normal car use. That's typical of the superiority AutoLight builds into more than 400 products for cars, trucks, planes, and boats in 28 plants coast to coast. And you'll find the same dependable quality in the complete electrical systems AutoLight makes for many of America's finest cars. Batteries, spark plugs, generators, starting motors, coils, distributors. All engineered to fit together perfectly, work together perfectly, because they're a perfect team. So friends, don't accept electrical parts that are supposed to be as good. Ask for and insist on AutoLight, original factory parts at your service station, car dealer, garage, or repair shop. Remember, you're always right with AutoLight. Next Thursday, for suspense, our star will be Miss Betty Davis. The play is called Good Night, Mrs. Russell. And it is, as we say, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Tonight's suspense play was produced and edited by William Spear and directed by Norman McDonnell. The suspense is composed by Lucian Morawake and conducted by Lud Bluskin. Account Payable was an original radio play written by Robert Platt. Edward Arnold appeared by arrangement with Metro Golden Mayor, producers of the Red Danube starring Walter Pigeon, Ethel Barrymore and Peter Lofford. In the coming weeks, suspense will present such stars as Victor Mature, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnais, and Red Skelton. And don't forget, next Thursday same time, AutoLight will present Suspense, starring Betty Davis. At Stafel Batteries, AutoLight resistors spark plugs, AutoLight electrical parts at your neighborhood AutoLight dealers. Switch to AutoLight. Good night. The increased demand for community chest services indicates that those services are needed to help families in trouble. Children without homes, the old and sick, in fact, to provide whatever your community needs to make it a healthier, better place to live in. Give generously now to your local Community Chest Fund. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.