 Suspense and the producer of radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, William and Robson. We pause now in this gayest of all seasons for a little murder. We interrupt the pleasing flow of hot warming greetings and ageless hymns and carols for a slight case of oxoricide. We turn our attention from tinsel and gay ornaments and strings of colored lights to blood. As Herbert Marshall stars in Back for Christmas, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Happy, Mrs. Carpenter? Deliriously, Professor Carpenter. Then how about another glass of champagne? Nothing goes better with a happy bride than a glass of bubbly. Nothing? How about a happy husband? That you have. To us? To us. Forever. Oh, Herbert, I'm afraid it's all a dream and I'll wake up any minute to find myself back in that drab little bookshop in Luster Street, searching for obscure volumes for absent-minded professors. Oh, so that's what you thought of me. Oh, not you, Herbert. You were different. I felt it the first time you came into the place. Premarition, second sight. You knew at that minute, I suppose, that I would whisk you off to America and make you my wife. Well, not exactly, but I'm awfully glad you did. Do you think you like America? I love it. I thought perhaps after this lecture tour is over, I might try to find a connection at some college or other, and just stay on. What would you say to that? I say wherever you are is where I want to be. Now, who in the world? Who is it? Bellboy. Just a minute. Yes, what is it? A letter, sir, or Mrs. Carpenter. Mrs? Let me have it. Here. Thank you, sir. A letter for Mrs. Carpenter? Herbert, you were a widow, weren't you? I mean, Hermione isn't still alive. Why would he heavens know? But that letter, no one back in England knows that I'm married. Let's forget it, shall we? Never do the glass of wine. I've often wondered what she was like. Who? Hermione. You never told me anything about her. I just as soon forget her, but she's not an easy woman to forget. Dominating, always managing things, the house, my wardrobe, my friends. You might say she managed herself to death. What are you doing down here in the cellar? Putting the finishing touches on this wine bin. Have you taken leave of your senses? Yes, I dare say you have. Look at you, the epitome of the absent-minded professor. Oh, I wouldn't say that. Well, I would. Whatever would become of you if I weren't here to look after you. I wonder. And well, you might. Have you any idea what today is? Why, Tuesday, I believe. Indeed. And what is going to happen today? Well, according to your plans, we are flying to America on the nine o'clock plane. Precisely. And the good noses are coming in for tea in half an hour. And here you are digging a hole in the cellar. It is not a hole. It's a wine bin. Well, it looks more like a grave to me. Yes, Hermione. Now upstairs with you now and get into some clean things. Yes, Hermione. I've already dismissed the cook. You'll have to get the tea things ready while I'm taking my bath. Yes, Hermione. Oh, you're such a bother to go to. Closing up the house and all and then having to open it again back for Christmas. Back for Christmas. Back for Christmas. You keep saying that. Oh, why not? We are coming back for Christmas, aren't we? Well, supposing I will offer the position in an American university. Oh, no. Well, they did ask me to come to lecture. That means something. Well, not very much. Americans would pay to hear any foreigner deliver a lecture once. But there's no use building dream castles, Herbert. Nobody's going to offer you a fortune in America. Of course, the extra money you will get will be very handy when we arrive back for Christmas. Precisely. Miss, no good you're making a joke of it. Oh, but Heaven knows where you'd be today if I hadn't got a sense of time. Yes, Hermione. Now, get a move on and be sure to straighten up the sitting room and get the tea things out. The second best, the good knows will understand. Yes, Hermione. Now, I'm going up to have my bath now. Call me when they arrive. Yes, Hermione. Yes, Hermione. Yes, Hermione. Twenty years of it. Twenty years of Hermione being right. Twenty years of personal management. Down to the smallest detail of which necktie to wear and how many minutes one's eggs should be cooked. Twenty years of slow strangulation. Which will only have ended in dull death if it had not been for Marion. At least Marion was one detail that Hermione could not manage, could not even imagine. The mousy proprietor of a bookstore, proper, ever so intellectual with her heavy horn-rimmed spectacles and the absent-minded professor. But such things do happen sometimes as they did that afternoon last summer. Good afternoon. Oh, good afternoon is Miss Markham about you. All right. Oh, bless me. Is it you, Miss Markham? Yes, Professor Carpenter. I say I didn't recognize you without short glasses. Why, I thought you couldn't see a thing without them. I can't. But you're not wearing them. Oh, yes I am. Contact lenses. Well, I must say. Must save what, Professor? Oh, I never realized what lovely eyes you have. Thank you, Professor. And that frock, it is so becoming. Well, once I decided to get rid of the horn-rimmed glasses, it wasn't too difficult to get out of tweeds. It's a delightful transformation from cocoon to butterfly. Yes, butterflies are not nearly as lonely as cocoons. You're lonely? I'm completely alone since my father died. Did you never think of marrying? My father was a very remarkable man. I never found anyone who could measure up to him, so... Oh, what pity. How long have you been alone, Professor? Alone? Well, I knew you were a widower, of course, the first time I saw you. A widower? Oh, I can always tell. It was the same with my father. There's a certain sadness in a man's eyes. A sweet sadness, I think, when he's been married and then... A widower. I never thought of it quite that way. Oh, I have your books. Books? Yes, the ones you ordered last week. That's what you came by for, isn't it? Yes, I suppose it is. I've quite forgotten. The Fatatomy of Falloid Gamma Phytites and coniferous shrubs of North America. Those are the ones you ordered, aren't they? Yes, thank you. You're very kind, Miss Malcolm. Why kind, Professor Carpenter? Well, not many young ladies in bookshops who go out of their way to look up rare books for an old professor of botany. Well, you're not old, Professor Carpenter. Really, you look... Besides, I adore botany. It's my particular hobby. You never told me that before, Miss Malcolm. I was afraid to. You always intimidated me, you seemed so preoccupied. Yes, I suppose I did. Well, you might be interested in some specimens of alpine polliances that were just sent to me by a friend in Switzerland. Switzerland? Why, I used to go there always for my holidays before the war. You like Switzerland? Oh, every part of it. The lakes, the mountains, the beautiful spring flowers, especially the flowers. It seems that we have quite a lot in common, Miss Malcolm. I'm sorry we haven't put before. I am too, but perhaps we can make up for it in the future. Indeed we shall. So had it begun, and one thing led to another, as they will with two lonely people. The invitation to lecture America made a happy ending possible. While Hermione proceeded with her plans for the trip, I made my own plans, quite different plans. Now they were all but complete. Everything was proceeding according to schedule, and my schedule. Even Hermione, drawing her bath upstairs, gave me the opportunity to phone Mariam. Hello. Hello, dear. Darling. Are you all packed? Almost. Not much time left. I know. Excited? Friendless. Heathrow Aerodrome, half past eight. I'll be there. I love you, Mariam. And? I'm sorry I've got to wing off now, darling. I'll see you at the Aerodrome. Tonight and for... Yes, Hermione. Freddie. Freddie Sinclair. Did I hear you say something about seeing somebody at the Aerodrome? Why, yes. Old Freddie said he might possibly get out to see us off tonight. Well, that seems very peculiar. But then all of your friends are peculiar. Yes, Hermione. I thought I told you to change your clothes before the guests arrive. Yes, Hermione. Never mind. Never mind. Somebody just drove up. Don't let them in. Yes, Hermione. Yes, Hermione. Why, it's... You should have been talking to him on the phone just now when he is coming up for a walk. Yes, isn't it? But then as you say, Hermione, all of my friends are peculiar. We leave for America. Just look at yourself. Yes, Hermione. Yes, Hermione. I think, my dear, I've said it for the last time. You with? Songs Make Christmas. And for this Christmas Eve, you have a very special invitation from CBS Radio to raise your voice in all the old familiar songs in a carol sing led by Bing Crosby. On this festive hour-long holiday show, you'll also hear Rosemary Clooney, Maurice Chevalier, Sarah Churchill, the Paul Weston Orchestra, and the Norman Luboff Choir. There'll be pickups of voices raised in Christmas song from far-off corners of the world. Whatever you're doing this Christmas Eve, wrapping packages, trimming the tree, entertaining friends, add new joy to the evening as all of you sing with Bing. And now, we continue with Back for Christmas starring Herbert Marshall, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Back for Christmas. Hermione was so positive we would be back for Christmas. That afternoon, pouring tea for a few friends who have come in to say last minute farewells, she kept reiterating it. Now mind your Hermione and don't let those Americans lure your husband with one of their fat university jobs. We absolutely must have you with us for Christmas. Oh, we will be back, I promise you. Oh, it's not absolutely certain, of course. Herbert, what do you mean it's not certain? Of course it's certain. After all, Herbert Elroy, you've contracted the lecture for only two months. Quite right, Freddie, but then, of course, anything may happen. Oh, for Herbert Adore being unpredictable. Now, what other man would decide today, the very day, mind you, before leaving for America to dig a great hole in the floor in the cellar? In the cellar? For a wine bin. He's been talking about putting a wine bin in the cellar for the last two months, but he never got around to working on it until the last few days. A wine bin? Whatever for? It's the only way to store wines, you know, in the cellar, even temperature, all that sort of thing. Indeed. In that damp, they'll all turn. A proper wine bin should be made of concrete. Mine will serve its purpose, I believe. Oh, there you are, my dear men. They're impractical little boys at heart, all of them. I don't know, Hermione. Indeed they are. But not all of them are fortunate enough to have as practical a wife as you, Hermione. Oh, not really. Oh, yes, my dear. I know I could never have done what you've done. I'd just go to pieces. Imagine, Freddie, all the things one has to do before such a journey, and Hermione has done them all, all by herself. Oh, yes, Hermione is quite remarkable. Well, someone had to do them and have it, no help. He's a lucky man to have you, my dear. You realize that, don't you, Herbert? Oh, indeed I do. You have no idea how well I realize it. Well, we very must be going. So? Oh, yes. I'm sure even you have at least a few last-minute things you must attend to. But don't forget, you'll be back for Christmas if you may count on it. Oh, boy, I said my dear Hermione. Goodbye, dear. Goodbye, Hermione. Oh, not yet, Freddie. We'll make our farewells at the airdrome. At the airdrome? Well, yes. Herbert said you phoned to say you'd see us off at Heathrow. I phoned? Yes. Just a few minutes before you arrived. But I couldn't have. I'd been out for a drive all the afternoon. Come, come, Freddie. You must well own up. I'll say, look here, old chap. I don't know what you're trying to... You see? You see? I can't even lie. Well, he's red as a beetroot. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Herbert, stringing poor Hermione along like that? Well, I suppose the game is up. It, um, it wasn't Freddie I was talking to Hermione. Well, I don't see how he could have been. No. I was, uh... Well, it was about a little surprise I was planning for you. How sweet. And I have a surprise for you too, Herbert, when I bring you back for Christmas. Heavens, I thought they'd never leave. Oh, we still have plenty of time. Well, not if we're to leave the house in proper condition for our return. Now, Herbert, after you get that dust cloth over the dam port, you can help me with the teethings and the scullery. No! Oh, no, no, not that way. Herbert, you're leaving wrinkles. Who's to see it, my dear? Well, I can see it, and I don't like it that way. Yes, sir. Very well. How's this? A little better. Now, let's get at the teethings, as it is. Oh, Herbert. Yes? There's all this nonsense about a surprise for me. Oh, well, if I told you, then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? No, come now, Herbert. We're too old to play children's games. What is it? Well, if you'll come down to the cellar, I'll give it to you. In the cellar? Why in the cellar? Because that's where it is. Oh, really? But you don't make any sense. Now, help me with the teethings. But you will come down to the cellar. Well, later, Herbert, if this time. Time. There had to be time. But Hermione was meticulous. Had each cup to be washed and dried just so, and put away in the cupboard, and it's a custom paste just so. And the silver had to be carefully wiped and put away in his brushline box just so. And then, once more, all the dust covers had to be straightened and the windows checked to be sure they were locked. And the time was running short. Is that everything? Everything, but your surprise. Will you come down to the cellar now? Why can't you bring it up here? Oh, no, no, that would be quite impossible. Oh, it's so dusty down there, aren't I? Well, I'm all dressed for the trip. I know, but it will only take a minute, and you'll find it quite worthwhile, I'm sure. Oh, very well. She went her head down the cellar stairs. As we reached the bottom, I silently lifted a small crowbar from a nail in the wall. She stood in the middle of the cellar, peering around in the ill-lit gloom. Well, I don't see anything, but that's like a youth dug. That's it? It's in there. Where? Look closer. Step closer to it. Right to the edge. Really, Herbert. Now do you see it? A little large for a wine bin. But just right for a grave. Back for Christmas? No, Hermione. No, Hermione. I'll never be back. You've planned it so well, Hermione. You're so predictable, so practical. Even the typing of your letters and signing them with a neat cryptic H that I have learned to copy. I'll be your Emanuensis. I'll write your friends for you, Hermione. Through me, you will tell them we won't be back for Christmas. And then you will tell them how much you like America and that you persuaded me to accept a teaching position. You will tell them that you may decide to settle there permanently. And then the letters will come less and less frequently until at last they will hear from me and I will break the news to them that you have died in America. Then I will have my solicitors put this empty house with its sad associations up for sale and that will be the end of the matter, Hermione. Back for Christmas? No, Hermione. No, no, no. No. No, no. Go away, whoever you are, go away. Did I leave the front door unlocked? No, no. Keep calm, keep quiet. They won't look down here in the center. Keep calm. They'll go away. They wouldn't leave, Hillstead. All right. Honey, I do want a last drink without her, but you know if he hurts. All right. Let's hurry. We can be back by half past six. Half past six? There's still time. After that it was easy. Put the finishing touches to the wine bin. Dress fast. Get out of the house before 6.30. Take the tube to Waterloo Air Terminal and the airlines bus to Heathrow. The plan is final. But from here on, my plan. Announcing the arrival of BOAC Flight 14 from Rome, Calcutta and Melbourne. Passengers would please report to custody. Darling, right on time, my dear. Shall we check in? Whatever you say. I never felt safer in my life. A new smoking sign just went out. Careful of cigarette, darling. Yes, thanks. Ever been on a plane before? No, you? To enjoy your first experience together. I was worried. About what? Well, you having been married once. Nothing would be new to you. My darling, it will be new. All of it. Is everything all right? Yes, thank you. Would you care for a pillow, Mrs. Carpenter? Were you speaking to me? Yes, Mrs. Carpenter. Would you care for a pillow? No, no thanks. I don't believe so. Well, if you want anything, just ring the bell over your seat. Herbert? Yes, dear? He called me Mrs. Carpenter. That's right. But I'm not yet. Well, you will be tomorrow this time. But how does she know? That's the way our tickets read, Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter. Why? I wanted you to get used to being Mrs. Carpenter. Straight off. Oh, Herbert, you're a dear. You think of everything. I help you, sir. Yes, please. Professor and Mrs. Carpenter, we have reservations, I believe. Oh, yes, we've been expecting you, sir. Now, boy, take Professor and Mrs. Carpenter's luggage after this week. You know, frankly, Mrs. Carpenter, you're quite a surprise. Your letter reserving the rooms was so thorough, I was expecting an older, more forbidding sort of person. My letter reserving the rooms? Oh, I wrote the letter, my dear, and I signed it, Mrs. Herbert Carpenter, just as a joke. What a cunning old fox you are, Herbert. Now that I think of it, I am, Robin. Well, Mrs. Carpenter, we might as well kill all the bottles as they say here in America. Darling, you'll make me tipsy. That's what a bride should be, just a little tipsy. Herbert, this letter the bellboy just brought seems to be a bill of some sort from a building contractor in Kensington. Oh, some mistake, no doubt. And address to me? Well, give it here, and we'll get to the bottom of the matter. This is to acknowledge your order, and together with the keys to your house in Lonston Place. Our men had no difficulty in finding the place where your husband had begun the excavation in the cellar. But apparently he changed his mind at the last moment and filled it in again. What is it, Herbert? Our men will begin digging tomorrow, and you may rest assured it will be a professional concrete line job and will be completed in ampoules of your surprise Christmas present to your husband. We are happy to be conspirators with you in this thoughtful gesture and hope that Professor Carpenter will be pleased with our construction of his wine bin. Very truly yours, Paul Holt and son's contractors. What does it mean, Herbert? It means that her mind was right. I will be back for Christmas. Herbert Marshall starred in John Collier's story, Back for Christmas. Listen. Listen again two weeks from now when we return with Russian New Year, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Suspense is produced and directed by William N. Robeson. Heard in tonight's cast were Irene Tedrow, Ellen Morgan, Paula Winslow, Ben Wright and Jack Moyles. The musical score was composed by Lucian Moroek and conducted by Wilbur Hatch. Looking for adventure, excitement, thrills and chills, all without leaving the comforts of your own home? CBS Radio answers your need every Sunday on most of the same CBS radio stations with yours truly, Johnny Daller. Johnny's a freelance insurance investigator in old hand at rapping larsonists and lovely ladies and the author of the most imaginative expense accounts in history. His tales are guaranteed to keep you between chills and chuckles. And you'll find yours truly, Johnny Daller, right on the job when he tackles his next baffling case a little later on in the day. Ladies and gentlemen, don't let death take your holiday. The traffic death toll over these Christmas holidays will be more than twice the average for any other week of the year. Don't allow the holiday spirit, the rush and activity to make you careless. Stay alert. Drive especially carefully. Remember, the best Christmas present is your presence. Stay tuned now for five minutes of CBS news to be followed over most of these same CBS radio stations by indictment.