 Suspense. Produced, edited, and directed by William Spear. This is the third in a special limited series of five Friday Night performances of suspense at this hour. Suspense is compounded of mystery and suspicion and dangerous adventure. In this series, our story is calculated to intrigue you, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation, and then withhold the solution until the last possible moment. Tonight from Hollywood, we bring you Mr. Dandourier, a star in The Man Who Couldn't Lose, a radio play by Emil C. Tepperman. We trust that with this tale, we shall once again keep you in suspense. Sure, sure, I feel swell. You better not talk anymore, though. Why not? I got nothing to worry about. That's what I'm telling you. Something's happened to me. I'm not scared. It's just like Old Man Mostly said. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, well, it's happened to me. Something's happened to me that doesn't happen once in a hundred years. And it all happened in one day. Yeah, it began this morning. Try to kid me. You're not asleep. Get up. Sure, sure, sure, okay. I cook your breakfast. I come home and cook your dinner. In between, I work behind that counter all day until I'm so tired I can hardly stand up. The least you can do is get up and drive me to work. Sure, I will. And what do you do? Nothing. I'll listen to you. You don't call what you do work, I hope. When did you last sell an insurance policy? When? I'll bet you can't even remember. I'm sure I can. All right, all right. And when you do get up enough energy to sell one once in a while, I never see the money, horses, sweet steak tickets, the numbers, anything just so long as you gamble it away. What do you ever bring a dollar home? Not that I ever hear anything about. Oh, shut up. Don't you tell me to shut up Leonard's mouth. I pay the rent when it gets paid. I pay the grocery bills. I pay for everything. You'd think at least I get a little appreciation once in a while. I appreciate it. I hear about it enough. Well, then why don't you do something about it? Listen Celia, I don't feel so good today. Sure, that's what you always say every time anybody talks about work. But I'm sick and tired of it. You promised you were going to get a job this weekend. You're going to do it. Celia, there's something I got to tell you. I suppose you want to wheedle some money out of me again. Well, if you can't even keep a little lunch money in your pocket, I... No, listen, it's more than that. Oh, it is, is it? I suppose you got another hot tip on the races. Well, if you think I'm going to... Will you shut up! What's the matter with you? Listen Celia, I've sold quite a few insurance policies in the last six months. Oh, you have, have you. Well, where's the money? Don't you try to pull back on me. You're going to get a job. All right. I spent the money. On the races? Yeah. Only it wasn't all my money. What do you mean? I mean, I'm $1,800 short. And this is the last day to settle up my accounts with the company. You stole it. I thought I was going to get it back and make a killing. I had some tips that were supposed to be sure things. Oh, I get it. $1,800. Quite a coincidence, isn't it? All right. $1,750. What's the difference? And it just so happens that I have $1,800 in a safe deposit box that Aunt May left me this spring. Quite a coincidence. Celia, I've got to get that money back to them today. Well, I don't believe a word of it. And you're not going to get that money. If I don't, they can send me to jail. And if I did believe you, you wouldn't get it. Maybe a few months in jail will teach you a little consideration. You know I've got to have an operation sometime this fall. You think I want to go into a charity ward? And who'd pay the rent while I was sick? They can give me five years. You're just a little too cute, Mrs. Snell. You've had your eye on that money ever since you heard I got it. But you're not going to get it. Why do you think I wear the key to that safe deposit box around my neck? Celia? I suppose you think I haven't noticed it. Now, look, Celia, look. I suppose you think I don't know all those times you tried to get that chain off my neck when you thought I was asleep. Yeah, yeah, but... Well, I wasn't quite as sleepy as you thought, mister. All right, Celia. And don't you think you can waddle it out of me? Get away from me. Len, take your hands off! I knew I'd have to do that to you someday. I bent over. She was dead all right. The key was on that little chain around her neck just like it had always been. I yanked on the chain, snapped. And the key came way in my hand. I shaved, got dressed, then I went through a purse. There was $9 and some change in the usual junk. And that sweepstake ticket made out in the name of I'm a winner. I put the money in my pocket. They take it in my wallet. I'm all set to go now, except for writing the letter. All of a sudden, I realize what I'm doing doesn't seem strange to me at all. It's like one of those dreams where you think it's all happened before sometime. I wrote to the police. I have killed my wife in a fit of anger. I can't go on living anymore after doing a thing like that to see her. I'm short in my accounts too. So there's only one thing for me to do. Don't bother looking for me. By the time you get this letter, you can find me in the city morgue. Yours truly, Leonard Snell. Good morning, Mr. Mosley. Leonard, I've just had some great news. I knew you'd want to hear about it right away. Well, I'm in sort of a hurry this morning. All right, but wait till you hear this. You know that picric acid dye formula I've been working on? Yeah. Well, the government's just bought an option on it. They're going to try it out under factory conditions and when they do, my boy, it'll be worth a million dollars. So what do you know? That's really great. Well, I guess I better be going on. So I decided to take out that annuity you've been trying to sell me. Got an application with you, have you? Oh, yeah, sure. Come on inside. Good morning. Why, my land, you look as though you've just seen a ghost yourself. He's just sold a policy. You don't sell him like that every day, do you, my boy? What's that first premium? About $3,400, isn't it? Yeah. Well, there's a nice commission in that, Elinor. About, oh, $1,800, isn't it? Yeah. Yeah. $1,800? Well, Leonard certainly deserves it. He works very hard. I see him coming home every evening with that briefcase and all those papers under his arms. Oh, I'm sure he works hard, but perhaps I'm a little more observant than you, dear. Oh, sit right down there, my boy. OK. Watch out for those bottles behind you, though. That's picric acid. What do you mean you're more observant than I am? Most of those papers are the racing forms, aren't they, Leonard? Well, you know, I've been watching you, Leonard. Yes, you've had a hard time, but you're a gambler. You believe a lot in luck. Well, sir, now I've got a theory about luck. When were you born? Oh, uh, March 1st, 1878. Yes, luck is something that can come in big doses sometimes. It's almost as though fate had planted out ahead of time. Who's the beneficiary? Oh, uh, my wife. Oh, that's so good. Yeah, there's a perfectly good mathematical explanation for it, of course. Now, a number of unrelated events converge and they all add up to the good fortune of a single man. Oh, happens once in a century, perhaps, but it doesn't. Um, you can, uh, make out the check. Oh, of course. Uh, why don't I make it out to you personally? Then I can collect that three-months rent, show me, huh? Why, sure. Sure. That'll be, uh, $3255. Oh, fine, fine, fine. I'll make it out right. You know, Leonard, I was saying to Sam just this morning, I'm almost as glad for your sake as brothers. My won't see you be surprised. Huh? I said, won't see you be surprised. Oh, yeah, yeah. Say, where is Celia? She usually leaves work long before this. I always hear her. Well, she's, uh... Oh, Leonard, don't tell me there's anything wrong. I know she hasn't been feeling well lately. Oh, no, no, no. It's, uh, it's just a little headache, you know. Well, the poor thing. Why didn't you tell me I'd go right upstairs and fix her something? No. Uh, no, you better not. She told me she wanted to sleep. She's asleep now. Oh. Well, then I, I will bother her. Yeah. I'll go up around noon now. Maybe I can fix her a little something then. Well, uh, yeah, sure. Well, my boy, here's your check. Thanks. Now, don't play that on the races. Don't worry. But you keep playing your luck just the same. Now, that's a funny thing. You had a lucky start today. Maybe your luck's changed. Yeah. Yeah. Maybe it has. Why couldn't he assign it yesterday? That's all I could think of for a couple of minutes. Why couldn't he assign it yesterday? But it was done now. I get in the car and drive downtown. First I go to Celia's bank, and I get that 1,800 out of the deposit box. Nobody says a word. Then I drive over to Morsley's bank and cast his check. I've got over five grand now. That's pretty good for a guy that started out the day by being 1750 in the hole. I drive over towards the park. A clock in a jewelry store says 1015. 1015. That was plenty of time. At the park I stop and give the once-over to the bum sitting around on the benches in the sun. There's always a bunch of them there. Pretty soon I see a guy that looks about right. Hey, you. Me? Yeah. You want to make five bucks? You mean the job? You won't have to strain yourself. I just hurt my wrist and I can't drive. I got to go uptown to meet a guy. You want to drive me? Oh, okay. You got a license? Yeah, I got a license. Let's see. Okay. Yeah. Floyd Eustace. Omaha, Nebraska. You're kind of a long way from home, aren't you? Yeah, but it's okay to drive within this state if you got a licensed driver with you. Okay, Floyd Eustace. You'll do. We get in the car and head uptown. My luck is holding. This guy couldn't have been better if I looked a week. I see another clock. And it's only a little past 10.30 now. I still got lots of time. So I decide to clean up the details now. How am I doing? Okay. But turn right at the next block, Floyd. I want to go by the 43rd Street Post Office and mail a letter. Sure. Hey, you could mail it at a letterbox, though. Yeah, but I don't want to mail it at a letterbox. Oh, okay. I go into the Post Office and get a stamp. Mail a letter. It's a letter where I tell about Killin' Celia. And it's just addressed to Police Commissioner 21 Center Street. Somehow, I just don't trust a letterbox. Because if the police don't get that letter right on time and start looking, it's not so good. I go out and get in the car. And I tell Floyd Eustace where to go. We head uptown. After a while, we get to Fort Trion Park right above Riverside Drive, looking over the river. It was hardly ever anybody up there at this time of year. So I felt pretty safe. And sure enough, there wasn't. I got the monkey wrench out. Is this right? No. Just pull over there, up against the rail. Gee. I never been up here. Must be quite a drop down there, huh? A couple of hundred feet, huh? Uh-huh. This where you're supposed to meet the guy? Yeah. Right here. I dragged him into the back seat and took off all his clothes, and then all mine. I changed clothes with him right down to the underwear and socks. I put all my papers in his pockets, my license, all man mostly's application, my wallet. That works. Then I dragged him up front again in the driver's seat. I propped him there with his arms through the wheel so his head would go through the windshield. I had to be sure they'd say it was me, nobody else. Then I put her in gear and let her go. Tell your officer, didn't they want three feet from me? Why buy me not more three feet? This car just rolled off the pallet stage up there somehow and landed smack in the middle of the street. Gee, look at his face. He must have gone right through the windshield. Poor fella. Identified him from his wallet, a guy named Snell. Leonard Snell. I was free. I was free as seedy and all of bellyache. I was free to do anything I wanted. I had five grand in my pocket, and the cops had Leonard Snell's body down at the morgue, just like I told them they would in the letter. My luck was holding but good. I went over to the 181st Street bus station. There was a bus leaving for Boston in 20 minutes. I bought a ticket. Then I got a paper on the corner, went into the lunch room, and sat down at the counter. What's yours? Scrambled eggs with bacon. French fries, orange juice and coffee. And I got to catch a bus. It won't take long, will it? No longer than it takes an egg to scramble. Whoops. Excuse me. That's all right, Mac. I like to read a newspaper while I eat myself. Uh-huh. Kind of aged the digestion I find. Yeah. Mm-hmm. Here's your orange juice. Thanks. Some guys have all the luck, don't they? Huh? I said some guys have all the luck. I was just noticing in your paper there about those Irish sweepstick winners. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Some guys... What's the matter? You feel bad? I have all the luck. I came to somebody was swabbing my head with water. A payment check and get out of there somehow. And I look at the paper again. That's what it said, all right. I'm a winner draws favorite and Irish sweeps. My ticket. And it went on to say how it was worth at least 40,000. Maybe 150,000 if a horse won. And all of a sudden I was standing there and cursing and swearing at Celia, right out loud. Just as though she was alive. Till I see some people are staring at me. And I stop. Because if it hadn't been for her, I'd have $40,000. $40,000. And now, now that $40,000 was just a one-way ticket to the hot seat. Because that $40,000 belonged to Leonard Snell. And that Irish sweep ticket was in Leonard Snell's wallet. And Leonard Snell's wallet was in the pocket of that bum that was supposed to be me. By now the cops would have it along with the rest of Leonard Snell's stuffed-down at headquarters after they put the body in the morgue. You've ever kissed off $40,000. You know how I felt. But what was the use? Well, I still have my five grand and a bus ticket to Boston. You can't get all the breaks all the time with what I figured then. So I got on the bus. Plenty seats in the rear. This seat taken? No, not at all. Sit right down. Thanks. Well, well, somebody must be feeling pretty good this afternoon. The guy that's got that I'm-a-winner ticket in the sweeps. I see it says there they'd pay him $40,000 for it right now. $40,000. Yeah. I'd sure like to be in his shoes, wouldn't you? Yeah. I see it says there. Here. You want to read it? Well, you don't need to get sore. Skip it. I- Holy. Board? All aboard. Hey, hey, stop. Let me out of here. I gotta get out of here. Well, make up your mind. I don't have to make up my mind, brother. I don't have to make up my mind. It was right then I got the idea of what was happening. It was just like old man Marsely said. It may only happen once in a hundred years, but it was happening to me. My luck was riding high. And when your luck is like that, you just can't lose. Because there it was, right in the paper again, on page three. Freak explosion in Brooklyn kills three. And it was my house. And the people killed were Marsely and his wife. And Celia. They thought it was caused by all Marsely's chemicals or something. I don't know when I didn't care. It was. They thought Celia had been killed by the explosion in the fire. And I was in the clear. I could walk into the police station and get my sweepstake ticket. You collect that $40,000 and it'd be set for life. I knew just what I was gonna tell them. There was a lead pipe cinch. I was walking on air all the way to the police station. And I was going up the steps. And then I stopped. Because I just remembered something terrible. And if I'd remembered it ten seconds later, I'd have walked right into the electric chair. I remembered the letter. By morning the cops would have that letter in my own handwriting. Over my own signature. Telling how I'd kill Celia. That letter that I'd taken all the trouble to mail at the forty-third street post office so I'd be sure to get off all right. I felt even worse this time than I had before. Because it seemed like I'd almost had that money right in my hands. I was pretty shaky. I went into a bar. Get a drink. Yes, sir, what'll it be? Double shot. All right, sir. Little chaser on the side? No. It'll be a dolly. Leave the bottle. Yes, sir. One of the most daring hold-ups in the annals of New York crime, a gang of armed men this noon robbed a United States mail truck, just as it was leaving the forty-third street post office, removing eight sacks of mail, the entire morning collection of the post office. Apparently the gunmen were after a shipment of currency destined for the Federal Reserve Bank. But according to officials, the joke is on the gangsters. All they got was the regular mail. Yeah, you didn't pay me the hand. You got changed. Keep it. Keep the change. I knew what had happened now. I couldn't lose. I simply couldn't lose. Because those mugs that stuck up that mail truck had got my letter. Nothing in the world could stop me now. Officer, I'd just been held up. Held up, huh? Yeah. Well, what happened? Well, I picked up a guy who asked me for a lift about 225th Street and Broadway. I was driving along by Van Cortland Park when suddenly he grabbed me. Then he hit me with something. That's all I remember until I woke up lying in the park. My car was gone. Then I found out that he'd taken my wallet, my money, everything. I see. What's your name? Leonard Snell. Leonard Snell? That's right. Oh, uh, say, Lieutenant. Yes? This gentleman is Mr. Leonard Snell. He was held up this morning. His car was stolen. Oh. Uh, just step in here. Will you, Mr. Snell? Well, sure. Sit down. Thanks. Uh, I've got some news for you, Mr. Snell. Did you find my car? Well, yes. The fella didn't get far. He drove off the cliff at Fort Tryon Park. He's dead. For a while, we thought it was you. But, uh, that wasn't what I was going to tell you. Well, what was it? You haven't seen the papers today? Not since this morning. What? I've got some good news and some bad news for you, Mr. Snell. Maybe I better tell you the bad news first. It's pretty bad. Go ahead. Your wife was killed this morning, Mr. Snell, in a fire at your home. My wife? Killed? Sealed you? And, uh, this probably won't interest you much under the circumstances, Mr. Snell, but you've drawn a ticket worth $40,000 in the Irish sweepstake. Sealed you? Well, to win the Irish sweepstakes and then lose your wife the same day. Some people sure have all the hard luck in the world. Luck. Within about 15 minutes, more things were happening to me that could happen to most guys in a dozen lifetimes. And then comes the jackpot I've been waiting for. Well, hold it, Mr. Snell. Just hold that pose right there. If you can't make a statement, Mr. Snell, would you mind telling the public how you feel? Please, fellas. I hate to trouble you at this time, Mr. Snell, but the syndicate I represent is prepared to offer you $40,000 in cash for your sweepstake ticket. I've got the money right here in cash. All right. I don't care much about the money, though. Now, that was at $430. By six, I've got $45,000 in my pocket. Cash. And I'm registered at the Waldorf. And I'm sitting down to dinner. I'll take the plank steak, please. Medium, yes, sir. I will have your order very shortly. Hello, pal. Mind if I sit down? Uh, you a reporter? Not exactly. I'm a sort of a collector. You owe me $40,000, pal. I come to collect. Now. $40,000? Well, I don't owe you. Yes, you do, pal. Remember that little letter you wrote to the police commissioner this morning at the 3rd Street Post Office? Some friends of mine found it. They figure it's worth just about $40,000. You? You're one of the guys that stuck up the mail truck. You want to make something of it? There's a big reward. There's a cop right outside the hotel who kind of figured you'd play ball. Where's the letter? My friend's got it right outside in the car. Still got that dough in you in cash like the paper said. Yes. Come on. All right. You're a pretty lucky guy at that, pal. I suppose somebody else had got that letter. Shh, shh, shh, shh. Don't worry, pal. Your secret is safe with me. Here's the card. Yeah, he's acting real reasonable, too. Get up to cash, pal. You recognize the letter, don't you? Here's your money. And here's your letter. Only don't try anything funny like this. And the cops could always dig up the body and find out how your old lady really kicked off. Good night. I think he gets the ideas. So long, pal, so long. What does it mean? Is it the officer on the stand for mail? Let's all stand by this man. What's up, Jerry? We just had a little super match with those mail robbers. The other boys got him down the street. This poor man was shot when he fired back. What's this letter? No, no, please. And before he fell, a... You'd better open it. It might be evidence. No, no, no. You better put a guard on this fellow at the hospital, Jerry. Right, sir. From the looks of this letter, he's going to stand trial for murder. Anymore, Mr. Snell? What's the difference? What's the difference how much I talk? That's what I wanted to tell him. What if they did get the letter? I'll never go to trial. Because I got luck, don't you see? It comes once in a hundred years. And I got it. I got that kind of luck. And when you got that kind of luck, you can't lose. You can't lose. You can't lose. Oh, you know, I got a guard that fell as Snell as long as he's here in the hospital. Yeah, but did you ever see the like of it? I don't suppose one man ever had so much luck in one day in a whole wide world. I guess his luck has played out now, right, though? Funny. He said you can't lose. Well, he's wrong. He's wrong there because that lad's going to fry just as sure as my name is Jerry Maloney. No. Now, you're wrong, Jerry. His luck is still good. Huh? He's dead. William Spear. Tonight you heard Mr. Dan Durier as star of The Man Who Couldn't Lose. This was the third in a limited series of five Friday night performances at this hour, which will present Radio's outstanding Theatre of Thrills suspense. Dan Durier will soon be seen in Black Bart. A universal international picture. Appearing with Mr. Durier, we're Lucille Meredith, Kathy Lewis, Jeanette Nolan, John McIntyre, Elliott Lewis, Joseph Kearns, Jerry Hausner, Frank Albertson, Jack Krushen, Dick Ryan, Hans Conreed, Ed Max, Frank Goss and Jack Webb. Music for suspense is under the direction of Lud Blusken, with original music composed by Lucian Moriway. Next Friday, same time, Boris Karloff will be our star in a famous story by John Collier. Don't forget, next Friday, same time, listen to Suspense! This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.