 Lipton G and Lipton Soups present Inner Sanctum Mysteries. Good evening friends of the Inner Sanctum. Or waiting to go through the squeaking door. What a long line. But everybody's here tonight. The line reaches right to the edge of the grave. Been waiting long. Seven days and seven nights. Dear dear, you should have not. I can always slip the latch string out and you could hang around properly. Why, Mr. Host, people don't need a latch string to do that. Didn't you know that all our listeners hang on your every word? Oh yes, Mary. There's no better place than Inner Sanctum for people to get the news. Or the news. As a matter of fact, we have some good news for our listeners right now. Folks, there's a new delight waiting for you when you try Lipton Tea. Many of you may have been drinking tea for years, but until you taste Lipton, you just don't know the full pleasure of tea at its delicious best. Lipton, you see, has brisk flavor. In fact, brisk is the very word that tea experts themselves use to describe Lipton's spirited, full-bodied flavor. Unlike ordinary dull-tasting teas, Lipton is never flat, but always hearty, satisfying. Lipton tea gives you more contentment in every cup. So do try it soon. It's tea at its tastiest. Lipton tea with that grand brisk flavor. And now for tonight's story. It's an original radio play written especially for the Inner Sanctum by Hank Warner. Calls stands of death and starring Santa Sortega in the role of Henry. Do you love your wife? Do you enjoy buying her a handsome fur piece, perfume, jewel, or nylon? Do you wonder secretly what you would do if the finery you bought her was used by her to win another man so that she could leave you? Oh, you can't answer, can you? Well, this is the story of one man who can make mile and return it. I should have known at once that morning in the office when Judson was reading the newspaper aloud that something was wrong. The unidentified body of a young woman strangled with a brand-new pair of nylons was found last night. Unidentified? Yeah, in the hallway of a roomy house at 72 Beach Street. Unidentified. Near the body which was fully clothed, police found a handbag containing a sales slip from the Silver Tone Hosiery Company. Incredible. Police had lost it. I don't know what miscarried identification. Judge account? Keys? Nice to discover. And a second pair of nylons. What? If it wasn't, Ellen? No, no. Of course it was, Ellen. Well, that's a pretty piece of news, eh, turning? By the way, you bought some nylons for your wife the other day, didn't you? What's the matter? Are you sick? I was sick, Johnson wanted to know. I wonder what his face would have looked like. But I told him right there that the police were wrong, that the body could be identified. And it was Ellen, my wife. I went to the police. The body was at the morgue. This way, sir. Here it is. That's steady. No. It's not, my sister. It's not Ellen. I know how you feel. The shock of relief. But it wasn't relief. I walked from the morgue to our apartment. My brain was pounding with a question I hid it to face. But isn't your wife, who is it? You didn't kill your wife, who did you kill? I didn't know. I didn't know. I got to the apartment. Very exhausted. Questions unanswered. My foot kicked a telegram that had been slipped under the door. I tore it open. It was from my wife. From Helen. The telegram was like a hand tearing the black curtain from my mind's eye. Could at last recall what had happened. What I had done. Why I had killed a strange woman. Thinking it was Helen. Squirreled across my brain like a crazy picture. And I came home after a hard day. Hello, baby. Aw. Gosh, I'm tired. Anything special for dinner? You could stand a good meal right now. What do you expect me to do? Slave over a hot stove for you? Oh, Ellen, breathe. I'm sorry. I'll enjoy whatever you've got. Well, I'm sick of potato salad and cold cuts. Oh, well. That's all you ever say, oh, well. Look, darling, I'm tired. Let's not argue. Please. After all, things could be worse. You get your permanence, new dresses all the time, shoes, hats. Why, you're the best dressed woman in the crowd. I suppose you'd like me to wear a ring. Aw, that's where you're wrong, baby. You're a good looker and you need pretty clothes. You can have all my money combined. Happy? Let's have a kiss, huh? Oh, I guess you're good to me, Henry. Let's eat. Well, I was really upset about, I suppose, is that I haven't got a single pair of nylons to wear with a new dress I got today. New dress? Lovely. You like it. Black. I plan on wearing it tonight. Would look lovely with real, sheer nylons. Tonight? Oh, I didn't tell you. Girls are having a bridge over at Margie. I won't stay long. Do you mind, Henry? I'm not very hungry. I'll slip into the dress if you don't mind. Right ahead. Hmm. Trader Sal's very good tonight. My compliments, Mr. Schmidt, darling. Hey. That is stunning. Like it? And how? Yeah, you certainly should be wearing nylons with that dress. Yes, siri. Oh, well. Oh, well, would you mind, darling, I bought a carton of cigarettes in my briefcase in the hall, please? Oh, yeah, I'd better take a pack with me. Doing nothing of it. Anytime you want nylons, just call on me. And where? Did you have much trouble? Ma'am, did you say trouble? Nothing at all. I just stood in line for three hours at the Silver Tone Shop. Of course, it rained for about two hours, but after all, nylons... Henry, you're wonderful. Oh, I'm crazy about them. I'll put them right on. Oh, Marge and the girls will eat the hearts out. Ah, if you permit my saying so, ma'am. You sure have a pretty pair of legs. Oh, don't be late, will ya? Darling, I'll be back as soon as I can. Bye. I sat around listening to the radio and reading the paper, waiting for Helen to come back. Oh, hello, Marge. Didn't she... She went out about two hours ago. Why? I'll tell her. How's your bridge party? I wear Marge. All right. Good night. Bridge party? Tomorrow night? Marges. Tried to sleep. I couldn't. I rolled around from side to side. Binking. Binking. Wondering. It was no use. I got out of bed. I paced the floor. I didn't dare call Goddies. Helen. Where are you? I didn't expect to get home. I managed to get dressed and shaved. I don't recall. I don't know how long I walked the streets. My briefcase was in my hand. Must have parted from one account to another because my sales book shows that I took orders for some of my firm's new carpeting that day. These things I don't recall at all. But the line. The Nylon line. Strange that I shouldn't remember getting on it. All I know is that suddenly I found myself part of it. How long I'd been on line, I don't recall. I told myself I had no business being on this line. I should have been out getting orders. But I felt chained to the line. Waiting for the store to open. Finally the line started moving. I asked for the same size and shade I bought for Helen. Then I saw her leaving the store. I walked after her. Helen. Yes. Oh, I thought you were... Helen. Yes. I hope you'll excuse me. Did you get some Nylon? Yes. Sometimes I wonder whether it's worth the trouble just for one pair. So exhausting. I could stand a cocktail. Why are you looking at me like that? Where shall we have it, Helen? If you go again, Helen. She should have Helen on your mind. Call me, Louie. We had the cocktails. And then dinner. And I walked home. And the hallway. This whole light seems to be out all the time. I am. With a lovely evening. You really need those Nylons? I reached over to kiss her. She turned her head. Swung her back to me. I put my arms around her waist. Kissed her neck. What's Helen got that I haven't got? I got them for you, Helen. What's she? Rosie Dawn. How smooth and soft they are. They look glowy. Against your pretty white skin. A tickling one. What are you? Look, lovely. Around your pretty white. For you, Helen. For you. That's what happens in a dark hallway. Shall we say, sheer folly? Oh, Mr. Host. To think there probably were people who would have helped Louise just inside that doorway. But they couldn't hear her, Mary. Nylons' tickings aren't like chains. They don't rattle when they're wrapped around someone's throat. Well, at that hour of the night, folks aren't expecting murders on their doorsteps. The family was probably out in the kitchen having a last-minute snack before bedtime. Perhaps the radio was on and they were all listening to the latest news headline. Meanwhile, mother would be fixing up a plate of sandwiches and brewing up a pot of Lipton Tea. For Lipton Tea would surely be part of the picture. Served with a late evening snack, it gives a happy ending to the day. And because it's so relaxing and enjoyable, a piping hot cup of Lipton's adds extra delight to any meal. Why waste time just thinking about it? Why not get a package of Lipton Tea tomorrow and treat yourself to its mellow, full-bodied flavor? Remember, Lipton's gives you brisk flavor. Wonder whether Henry's realized his sheer recklessness. Pretty thin, isn't it? Poor fellow has just strangled the weave. A Nile and Carly baby, if ever there was one. Under the impression he was killing his wife, Helen. Let's see what else he has to say about the telegram he just got from his dear, dear wife. Telegram I held in my shaking hands convinced me of the horrible truth it wasn't Helen I had murdered. The telegram was dated the very night in which I had strangled the unidentified woman. Be too unhappy. Please don't be too unhappy. I wasn't. I was beyond that. I would never be unhappy again. Oh, happy. I felt only one desire. I passed the Nile online again. The next day, walked by it. I was drawn back to it. I joined the line. I didn't move fast enough. I felt a slight bump from behind. I turned. I'm sorry. Helen. You must be mistaken. I'm sorry. We got in just in time. The closing filled up. Wish my husband would stand in line. Oh dear, it's starting to rain. Can I drop you off my cars around the corner? We drove a bit into the country. She was nice. Just bored. We pulled into a side road. Is out of town so much? My arm was around her shoulder. She snuggled against me. The same heady perfume. Helen's perfume. My pre-hand reached for the bag with an island. Thanks dear. I found her like a necklace. I thought I knew sooner or later they'd get me. But I couldn't help it. All I knew was that I had to kill Helen. I knew I would have to kill anyone who reminded me of Helen. Until Helen herself was home. Yes, commissioner. We've got all the men out. Yes, I'm assigning Keating to it. I'll keep you informed. Goodbye. Keating. Yes, inspector. Come in please. Commissioner on you again? We've got to do something and do it fast. City's going crazy. It's only an idea but it may work. Now you know the details. Both women wore the same size stockings, same shade. Both used the same perfume, same size clothes. Both pretty, same color hair. Eyes, yours. Want me to dye my hair? Right. Now those nylons, both pairs and the extra pairs found on the women came from the Silverton shop on Madison Avenue. What about a fur coat? I'll take your pick of the two with the poverty clerk. He may lay low for a while. With a panic on. We'll have to take our chances on that. But if this is the work of a madman and it looks like it, he'll try it again. I've dropped everything. We'll arrange to have you hang around the counter. The shade is rosy dawn, size nine and a half, fifty-one gauge. There'll be more than one man asking for that. It's the vogue right now, you know. We'll have to take our chances. Yes, mister, what's yours? Like, if you're mine, mister, that's lots of people waiting. Oh, I beg your pardon. I was just looking over there. I thought I'd recognize them. Size and shade, please. Rosy dawn, nine and a half, fifty-one gauge. Sit down there. I'll get them. Rosy dawn, nine and a... Rosy dawn, nine and a half, fifty-one gauge. Lieutenant Keating. Thank you. Would you mind stepping up this way, ma'am? This is the last box. That gentleman wants a pair, too. No, not at all. Oh, I beg your pardon. Helen. Oh, you must be mistaken. Oh, I'm sorry. You look so much like... How much, please? $1.65. Thank you. I'm sorry to keep staring at you. You still think I'm Helen? Could be. Well... Careful lift. I'm taking a cab to fifty-person third avenue. I don't mind. I'll live down to your second. Stop, driver. I heard you said... Never mind. What are you looking at? I have a house. Woman getting out. My wife, Helen. Must be coming for her clothes. With those bags. Hey, walk heavy. Keep the change. I'll just sit here until she goes in. So, hubby wanted to play while wifey was away. What's that? Oh, I'm sorry. I need these nylons now for my wife. Oh, driver, take the lady down to second avenue. Then come back to me in about fifteen minutes. What's your address, lady? I'll be getting out here, too, as soon as he goes into the building. It's me. I scared you. Mild, meek, adoring Henry. Your husband. Scared you. Don't talk like that, Henry. I explained everything in my wire. You got it, didn't you? Your wire? Yes, my darling. Made everything clear. Very clear. The cold and the wind and the rain. I'm standing in line for hours and dollars for nylons. My darling. Don't come near me. Stay away from me. I'll be all right, darling. I brought you some nylons. Look. Ready? I really don't need them. I've got plenty. You won't need any more after these. Need any more nylons. I could hear. Trying to revive Helen. It was no use. She'd come in too late. And she bent over me. If somebody wants strength, I had, I grabbed a leg. Oh, wait. As I had hit the wall, the gun dropped. I grabbed it. Better not. Get up. Sit in that chair. You're the nylon murderer, aren't you? Yes. You're a detective. Pretty smart. What are you going to do? Strange. I wanted to kill you. And I saw you in the store. Miss, uh... Lieutenant Keating. No. No, that Helen is gone. I... I feel at peace. I don't want to kill anyone. I know how you feel, Henry. I loved her. You believe that, don't you? Sure. She was no good. Get up. What for? Get up, I said. I won't go over to that closet. Go on. Open the door. Don't turn around. Don't try anything or I'll have to shoot. Walk in. I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry. Miss Keating can come and get you. I love you. Keating, you all right? Nasty bump, Inspector. Did he get away? He was bleeding pretty badly. Now the blood leads into the bedroom. They're crazy fools. They hang themselves. With nylons. Crazy? I wonder. Cut him down, Brady. Too late, Inspector. There's a note on the floor. Miss Keating will understand. Do you, Lieutenant? Yes, Inspector. I do. Now wasn't that a wasteful cup? Imagine cutting poor Henry down. Ruined a perfectly good pair of nylons. He should have untied the knot. Well, one way or another it goes to prove that when you've got a case of nylons you've got your hands full. As for poor Henry, one way or another he faces a long stretch. Well, there's one good thing about it, Mr. Host. With Henry dead, ladies can stand in nylon lines once again without being afraid. Yes, Mary. Tomorrow is another and a happier day for the ladies. Oh, but it needn't be just for the ladies, Mr. Host. Tomorrow can be a red-letter day for their families, too. That is, if they remember to put Lipton Tea on tomorrow's grocery order tonight. How about that, friends? Jot it down right now so you'll surely remember. You'll be doing yourself and your family a good turn because you'll all love Grand Lipton Tea. Everybody does. Because Lipton's has such delightful brisk flavor. Because it's so satisfying and zestful. Don't let another day go by without trying it, will you? Tomorrow, be sure it's Lipton Tea you ask for and Lipton's you get. Because Lipton Tea has that wonderful brisk flavor. Friends, before I bid you a fond farewell, I must tell you about the wife of a friend of mine who smokes nylon cigarettes. Yes, it burns her up. She has to roll her own, but she sure gets a run for her money. Oh, by the way, this month's inner sanctum mystery novel is The Lying Lady by Robert Finnegan. And next week, the makers of Lipton Tea and Lipton Soups bring you another inner sanctum story directed by Hyman Brown, starring Victor Moore, the famous Hollywood and Broadway star. It's called Murders in the Moor, a scalp-raising toe-tingling story about a little man and a big knife and girl. Lots of girls. But most of them will be no good to anybody because they end up dead. Until next week, then, and our special star, Victor Moore, good night. Pleasant dreams. For tomorrow's lunch, let's see. Now, why not serve cream salmon with peas and lead off with a soup that's super, wonderful Lipton's noodle soup? You've never tasted better fresh cooked chickeny goodness in your life than you get in homemade tasting Lipton's noodle soup. Now, that I can promise you. It's easy to prepare, too, and cost less, yet makes lots more than ordinary canned soups. So why not get a supply tomorrow of Lipton's noodle soup? And tune in next week for another inner sanctum mystery. This is CBS, The Columbia Broadcasting System.