 This is Robert Montgomery. I have a new assignment and I'm very happy about it. During these 60 minutes each Saturday, I'm to be acting spokesman for one of Radio's really great entertainments. A program which is a prime favorite with all of us. You have come to know its opening music as the curtain raiser for Radio's outstanding theatre of thrills. You know it as a show which each week for five years has brought you first-class story material and exciting performances. You have come to recognize throughout the unique touch of our unique producer, my friend Bill Spear. All of which can be said in one word. Suspense. An hour of suspense now. Full 60 minutes on Saturday night and with the distinguished actor-director Robert Montgomery as your host. Night Mr. Montgomery also appears as star in The Black Curtain. A suspense play produced, edited and directed by William Spear. I don't have very much to say in the prologue department tonight. That's because at this premiere of the Full Hour show, we're anxious to ring up our curtain. Our black curtain, if you will, without unnecessary delay. Also because tonight I am appearing as an actor. The idea on most Saturday evenings is for me to make you welcome and chat about things you and I are mutually interested in. Crime mostly. And the various types of criminal achievement, real and fictional. And the persons, actual and invented, who have committed those crimes. And gotten themselves into those predicaments. And the people who have written about it and have compounded the particular brew of mystery and dangerous adventure which we serve up to you in the name of suspense. But tonight I am appearing for a good many of our 60 minutes as a man named Frank Townsend. Townsend will tell you his really amazing story in his own words. And so I think you'll hear quite enough from him without hearing more from Robert Montgomery. And so if our producer, Bill Spear, is ready, we will ring up our curtain. And now with the black curtain from the novel by Cornell Woolrich, and with the performance of Robert Montgomery, we hope once again to keep you in suspense. A man is born, he lives out his little life, and he dies. That's the one real break, I guess, that every man can count on. The one thing nobody can take away from him. To be born just once, and to die just once. Every man, that is, except Frank Townsend. Born with no strikes on him, died with two strikes on him, and then was born again with three strikes on him. Pushed back into life that day on that street. My head was pounding like the percussion instruments beating out the anvil chorus. I could hear all the noise and the people milling around it. First everything was a jumble, sight and sound. Tall buildings, high sky, low faces, spinning and weaving and bells exploding. All right, all right, get moving now, let the doc through. Oh, I seen it, officer, I seen it, he was running fast, the whammo clunk. He's growing like a monkey with his head down and his feet up. All right, all right, break it up, I'll break it up. Oh, my head. Take it easy now, brother, just lie still. Who, and what are he now? I'm the doctor, just lie still, I'll take it easy. Hey, Copper, Copper is one of his pockets, a guy grabbing the ground. All right, all right, come on, get back, I'll get him in there, get back. I'm okay, doc, I just feel a little... Sure, here, let me help you up, see if you can stand. Thanks, thanks. I guess I can talk to him now, eh, doc? Just a nasty bump on his head, he'll be okay. Now here, let me brush your coat off. Thanks, doc, I...my coat. Why am I wearing an overcoat? Just for my report, mister, what's your name and address, eh? Uh, Townsend, Frank Townsend, 820 Rutherford Street. Ah, he has a cigarette, he's still a little woozy. No, thanks, I don't smoke. Well, look, take a couple aspirin tonight if you stick to my report. All right, all right, come on, just for me. Here's your hat, mister. Thanks, Ged. I will see what we can do about the guy that snatched your wallet. Here's your cigar case. Mike, yes, but I haven't got it. Well, good luck, mister, I'm gonna turn in my report. Cigar case. I don't smoke. Oh, it just fell out of your pocket when we lifted you. Yeah, but look at the initials on it. DN. Yeah, same initials like in your hat, see? DN. Yeah, but that isn't my hat. Oh, you got a nasty crack on the noggin, mister, and, well... Wait a minute, wait a minute, I'm trying to think, I... Where is this? Where is what? This. The street. This? This is Tillerie Street. Tillerie? What am I doing on Tillerie Street? Hey, look, buddy, you sure you're okay? Well, what happened to me? Well, you were running. Very dangerous running on this ice. Well, you slipped, hit your head, and was out for about 20 minutes. Ice? After that blizzard we had last night, did you expect May flowers? Blizzard? And July? July? Oh, listen, buddy, I got a flash for you. This is December, one week before Christmas, 1944. 1940? Oh, don't take it so hard, we all get older. You better get home and get a fast 40 winks. You'll need it. 1944. December, 1944. But the last I could remember was July. 1941. Three years. Gone. Just gone. A black curtain. The black curtain of amnesia comes down over your mind out of nowhere. That black curtain had been dropped over my eyes for three years. Where had I been? Who had I been? Not Frank Townsend. Someone else, D.N., someone whose initials were D.N. I walked along Tillerie Street thinking about her. Those three years, I could have been married, had a family, or could have been a thief for her. No, it was insane. Twenty minutes ago, I left the little office where Johnny and I have our advertising business. I was on my way to speak to a client. Twenty minutes ago, I told Johnny that... But that was July, 1941. There was no snow, no ice, no initials, D.N. I must see Johnny. He'd know, he'd tell me. I stopped dead. I don't know why. Something made me turn my head. And that's when I first saw him. Grey eyes. He'd been talking to the cop who took my name. He looked after me as I turned my head. He started for me. I found myself backing away. Something about him screamed trouble. He quickened his step. You! Townsend! Stop! The sound of his voice sent terror roaring into my skull. I ran. He lunged after me. I saw him come as I rounded the corner and in his hand he held a gun. He raised it. I ducked my head and ran for my life for the second life that I'd been born into. It was the ice that saved me. I flew across it, my toes barely touching its treacherous surface. But grey eyes slipped, spun through the air, gun flying from his fingers. By the time his heavy body had thudded to the ground, I'd hurled myself down the subway steps, walked, vaulted the turnstile, cheated the steel edge of the subway door as the train pulled out of the station. And for two hours, I rode the rails under the city. And for two hours, my stomach was gripped by terror. Dusk and a new snowfall had settled over the city. I entered the sleek lobby of the Greystone building on 34th Street where Johnny and I had our office. In a few minutes, I'd be sitting across the desk from Johnny. A good bottle between us and then everything would be all right. Johnny would know what to do. He always knew. Ever since we'd been in school together, he'd know how to find out who I'd been, what the initials D.N. meant, why grey eyes tried to kill me. An elevator door slid open and I stepped into the cage. Floor, please. 10. Pass, please. What? Your pass. I gotta see it. What pass? To go up to the 10th floor. Pass to... but I don't understand. My office is up there. Look, buddy, all I do is run this elevator, not the country. Yes, but I... Save it, save it. God! Two men came from the rear of the lobby. They were big men. They wore uniforms. The blue trousers tucked into brown patees. Their thumbs tucked into heavy belts that supported heavy guns and heavy clubs. White armbands red, SP. They eyed me with suspicion. Now, what's the trouble, mate? 10th floor, no pass. What's your business on the 10th floor, sir? Advertising. I mean, my office is there. You're sure you're in the right building? Well, I... Isn't this the Greystone building? You can't have no office in this building higher than the 5th floor. But I tell you, we're my partner in me. We're on the... Nobody's on the 10th floor but the Navy. The Navy? All the way from the 6th to the roof. Why? You kidding, sir? Ain't you heard there's a war run? War? Look, mister, this is supposed to be funnier in a raw department. What's your name? Look, will you help me please? My name is Townsend. I have an office here on the 10th floor. Advertising. Townsend and Gale. Oh, yeah. Townsend and Gale. Well, I'd fold it when the Navy took over. Where's Johnny Gale? He joined the Navy. Where can I find him? Oh, it'll be tough finding, mister. He was buried last month on Okinawa. Johnny... dead. Buried on Okinawa. The name meant nothing to me. Only that at Okinawa was buried my strongest link to my past. One slender thread leading back through the years remained. The apartment on Rutherford Street. I started to draw it in. Mrs. Hudson? Why? Mr. Townsend? I, uh... I guess I started you. Well, I know. No, not at all. I was expecting... I mean... I thought... Yeah, it's been a long time. Not... not at all. I kept... I mean, I knew you'd come back and... well, your... apartment is just where you left it. You kept the apartment for me, huh? After all, Mr. Townsend, you were my favorite tenant and... come in! Come in! Thank you. Just go right on up, Mr. Townsend. I, uh... aren't you going to ask me what happened to me? Hi. You... you look very well, Mr. Townsend. I'm... I'm glad you're back. And... And... Yes. Yes, I'm glad I'm... Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I started up the stairs, the same stairs, the same creeks, the same loose board halfway up. Everything the same, but everything unreal. Mrs. Hudson, unreal. I sensed her eyes following me up the stairs. I stopped, turned, looked down. She stared up at me, mouth slightly open, and for a long, long moment, neither of us spoke. Yes? Mr. Townsend? Mrs. Hudson, uh... Mr. Townsend? Well, it's nothing, but you used to call me Frank. Come all the way in, son. He was sitting in the large chair by the window. In his left hand, he held a half-smoked cigar. It was pointed at the ceiling. In his right hand, he held a gun. It was pointed at me. It was gray eyes. Tellerie Street. Just couldn't stay away from there, could you? Well, never fails. What do you want? There's some mistake. I... Given that harness bull, the phony name with the right address. Very unbright. Listen, my name is Townsend. Frank Townsend. So, all right, so we'll bury under that name. What difference does it make? Burry me, but why? Why? What have I done? Suppose you tell me. Maybe you can make it sound better. If I have to die, all right, I'll die, but I gotta write to know why, haven't I? Tell me what I've done. What am I dying for? And still, just give me one more excuse, son, and I'll kill you right here and right now. I just settle back and relax, and I'll sit down over there. Lean back against the chair. All the way. Now put your hands on your head. And son, just pray that you don't get an itchy nose because if you even start to scratch it, it'll be the last itch you'll ever feel. While we're waiting for the boys, we'll just sit and chat nice and friendly like. Anything special you'd like to talk about? No? Okay, maybe I can suggest something. Maybe you'll find the loot an interesting topic of conversation. Sounds promising? The loot. What'd you do with it? I sat with my hands clashed to my head. I didn't dare move. He had the safety catch off, and I knew he'd send a bullet through my head without a second thought. And why you took the chance of going back to Tullary Street? Maybe the doll crossed you up, huh? Sure, you waited all week, and she never showed. Nothing, he said, made any sense to me. All I knew was that he expected others to arrive, and they would take me. Where? Gray eyes went on and on his voice troning until I no longer cared what happened to me. Or why? I think I was beginning to nod. Went from the corner of my eye. I saw the door open slightly. I didn't stir. Gray eyes droned on. A man was standing in the doorway behind him. A small man with small hands, and he held a small finger up to his lips. His small feet made quick, noiseless steps. He stopped silently behind the chair in which gray eyes was sitting. Then he raised a small gun and his small fist. Gray eyes emitted a small gasp and fell forward at my feet. I stared down at him stupidly. The small man chuckled. I am so small, and yet I have so much strength. It is revolting. I think you killed him. Perhaps. So you did not expect to see me, no? No. My friend, I did not observe you all these years for nothing. When the deed was done, I knew that your romantic American soul would eventually betray you. Yes, and so I said to myself, Dengler, I said, you must go to Tiller Street. Endure the cold in the wind, but watch, watch, watch, and be patient while you watch. Yes, this I did. And you see, my patience was rewarded. Dengler? Yes, my friend. Tell me, how bad are things? My friend, I will tell you this. The situation for you is desperate, but not serious. I will guarantee safe conduct for you over the border to Mexico. But you must insist that I accept and press upon me when I refuse a fair share of the money. The money? Precisely. Now what would be fair? Well, in view of the difficult situation we should share equally. Yes, one thousand for me, one thousand for you, and then you will give me the balance of eight thousand for expenses. Yes, for expenses. Give you nine thousand. It's truly fair and honorable distribution. Especially, my friend, when you consider that the nine thousand you give me is an item which is completely deductible. Yes, deductible from your income tax. I see. And suppose I refuse your offer. How can you refuse? Didn't I save your life by assaulting this thug from behind? And didn't I have the good sense to snatch your wallet when you so stupidly fell in the street? Yes. See? Here it is. It was I who took it before the police could examine it. You have... let me see it. You may have it. Yeah, wait. What? Where's my cards, my identification? Where's his identification, he asks. I told you you were stupid. Would I dare walk about with your identification cards upon my person? Idiot! I begin to feel it is not safe to deal with you. All right, all right. I'll play ball. I begin to feel you have a little good sense. Now, where is the money? You think I carry it with me? Well, with a man like you, who knows? Very well. You must arrange to get it. I will be waiting for you at my office. Do not come there. Call me. Then we will contrive to meet. Is that clear? Yes. Good. Now, I shake your hand and wish you well. If you succeed in going out once more into Tillery Street and coming out safely with the money, I will be waiting for you. And if you do not come out, I will make a small novena for you. Hey, goodbye, my friend. Goodbye. I shut off all process of thought and feeling. Reason was useless in an irrational world. Feeling dangerous in a dangerous one. I moved like an automaton, moving now from A to B, from B to C, from Rutherford Street to Tillery. Grey eyes and danger. Both had made Tillery Street their point of arrival and departure. And the point of my rebirth. I took the chance that might rent the black curtain and let in the sun. Or rent my heart and let out my life. I returned to Tillery Street. What can I do? Oh, hello. Hello. How are you? You know me. Why shouldn't I know you? I couldn't see you under that head at first. What can I do for you? You got an evening paper that I could look at? No, I'm sorry. I never read them. Too much trouble in the world these days, anyhow. Have you been? You haven't been around in two or three weeks? Yes, well, I've been busy. Look, Pop, I made a bet with a guy that even though you see so many customers, you'll walk right up and give me my full name. I'm sorry. I don't know it. I don't think I ever heard your name. But I know your girl. My girl? My girl? Oh, you do? Well, now maybe I can still win my bet, huh? Of course. Root. Root. She lives right across the street. The Tillery Apartments. Well, that's right. Root. Ah. But now, what apartment? Apartment 3C, of course. Don't I take the sandwiches up there every night? 3C. Yes. Well, thanks. Will you win your bet, mister? What? Oh, yes, I think I will. Watch your name so I'll know it next time. I'll tell you tomorrow. So long. So long, Pop. I'll be seeing. Did I drop something? Nothing. Nothing, I... just tying my shoes. I'd just been going to walk out when I saw him standing across the street. A man built like gray eyes, dressed like him. And I knew he was looking for me. I ducked down behind the store window and watched him. He looked over in my direction and then up and down the street. Lit a cigarette and then strolled down to the corner. The minute he disappeared, I yanked the door open, dashed out and ran across the artillery apartments and went in. Twice a day, he may be in the neighborhood right now for all you know. Who? Who? Does he got gray eyes? What? Well, did you ever see a detective that didn't? Sure, sure, I bet. Danny, what's the matter with you? You're acting so strangely. I... I just wanted to look at you. It seems a difference, a far away. You haven't kissed me. That's easily fixed. Oh, darling, where have you been? All around. Missed me? You know I did. Oh, Danny, do you suppose... do you think we could get away tonight? I've got 10, uh, some money saved up. We could go to Mexico or South America. We could get married. Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Nearing, tour of the world. Daniel Nearing. And wife. Sounds pretty good to me. You'll never know how good. We'll get out of here tonight. I'll say I'm sick. All my stuff's here. Nothing's out there but a couple of uniforms. I'll make Ada and Franklin a present of those. Ada and Franklin? Don't you bother your pretty head about those two. Maybe they weren't glad when it happened. A couple of vultures. Good-bye to them. Oh. Oh, with your back, Danny. Just think of the money I have. Do you think you ought to have quit your job? I never was cut out to be a nurse. Oh, you weren't, were you? Any more than I was cut out... Any more than you were meant to be a secretary. That's right. I never wanted to be a secretary. I just drifted into it, I guess. And it got on my nerves, especially towards the end, huh? The boss was no cinch to work for. He certainly wasn't. He was a rat. Oh, the whole Dietrich bunch of mean, rotten, the whole family. Yeah. That's right. I'll accept the old man. Oh, the old man. Yeah, I sorta liked him, didn't I? He loves you too, Danny. I think he wished he'd been his son. Poor old man. He's the only reason I've stuck around out there this long. How, uh... How are things out there? How could you expect them to be? Not very pleasant. Oh, it's been great. Just great. With the questioning and keeping after me, and me sick to my stomach with worry for you. Not knowing where you were if you were alive or dead, but you're back with me, and that's all that matters. I just want to forget everything. The Dietrichs, New Jericho... Everything that happened. Like what? Oh, darling, please, let's not talk about it. We're the important thing now. I must know what's going to become of you. Because whatever it is, means me too. I don't know, Ruth. I don't know. I saw Dengler today. Franklin's lawyer? Yeah. Where? I, uh... He passed me on the street. Did he see you? No. No, he didn't. Are you sure, darling? He didn't speak to me. You know how clever he is. He just let you go by and follow you. Why? Why wouldn't he talk to me if he saw me? He figures you're dangerous, darling. It wouldn't be safe for him to try it alone. Why am I dangerous? Well, whether it's true or not, darling, doesn't matter. It's what he believes it counts. And he believes like the rest of them. You know that. Yes. Yes, I guess I do. Danny, look at me. Your poor, tired eyes. Your face so strained. I need a shave, too. When did you sleep last? Sleep? I hadn't thought about it. I don't remember. That you can believe, Angel. I don't remember when I slept last. Danny, we must wait until the moon is down and we'll try to leave then. But now I want you to go in there and have a hot shower and a shave and then sleep for a while. You must, darling. You can't go on like this. I found my way to the bath without making a blunder and the warm water felt good. I stood under the shower for a long, long time. It would have been pleasant to stand out the rest of my life just that way under that soothing spray. In the medicine cabinet, I found a safety razor, a shaving cream. I usually have trouble with a new razor. It takes me time to grow accustomed to it. But this one felt just fine. I slipped into my shirt and trousers and found my way to the bedroom. On a small tray near the bed, Ruth had placed a hot glass of milk and some toast. I was hungry. I ate. I slid between the sheets and they caressed my body with a gentleness that I hadn't known since childhood. Here, let me tuck you in and open the window. Here's good for you. I'll leave the shade out. Don't turn a light on. The dark feels warm in the front. Cigarette for your dose of? No, thanks. I don't smoke. Sure. I like your eyes by match light, darling. They shine. No, don't blow it out. Let me. I'll make a wish. What was your wish? To be with you forever. Just to be with you like this. Feeling your dear face, your chin, your jaw, closing my eyes and still knowing you're here near me. This is all I want out of life. I wouldn't change places with any woman who knows and is sure she has her man forever. Who knows no one might come at any minute to take him from her. You're all I want, Danny. Forever. Now and forever. Because for us, darling, forever is now. And then I slept. And yet I didn't sleep. The dream held more reality than the bed I was in. The dream held no distortions, no goblin shapes, no complete persons at all. Nothing in it but a pair of feet and a patch of pavement just large enough to contain them. They kept moving forward toward me, towards my eyes, and the pavement kept slipping past beneath them like a treadmill going the other way. It was as though I were moving backwards away from the feet and they kept moving toward me, coming toward me, toes pointed straight at me, remorseless and inevitable. They're a black shard feet, never at a run, always at the same, even implacable, persistent walk. The cushioned thud of their incessant fall on the pavement, the rhythm of the walk. Pat pat. Pat pat. The echoing night sound when streets are still with someone coming towards you in the distance. It was as though the feet knew they needn't hurry for nothing. No one could escape from me. And then slowly they began to gain on me, closer and closer to my eyes. There was no escape. To turn aside and let them go by was impossible. The crevice between the soul and the pavement opening and closing like a hungry mouth, grazing, threatening to trap and crush and trample me. And that's when I gasped from there and jumped from the bed. I poured down my legs and back. I was stifling. The darkness in the room lay over my head like a blanket. It seemed to shut out the air. Still gripped by the terror of the dream I threw on the light, leaned out of the window and sucked in huge gobs of cold, clean air. Danny got away from that window. Ruth, I just saw he's down there. That man, like gray eyes. I must see if he's standing in front of the hydrant. He's coming in here, in the building. Did he see you? Ruth, I need... Will you help me? What are you going to do? Go down and face it. I can't stand it. No, no, no, you can. It's better than waiting for it here like this. No, darling, no, no. Give it a chair. The chair? Well, what did you think happens to a man when he's guilty of murder? Murder. Ruth, listen to me. I'm not a murderer. If the whole world says I committed murder, I say I didn't. The me that's in me says I didn't. I never said you were, Danny. I always said you didn't do it. But they found the body and they... So that's it. The chair for the dumbwaiter. Lock that kitchen door. I'll stand on top and work the ropes. I don't think it can hold his bones. It's got to. Can you hear me? Yes. We're going back there to New Jericho. Oh, no, Danny, don't. Please. To me, don't do it. I've got to. I've got to find out. We're going together. Out of here. Stop it. Stop it. Here on in, we're sticking together. You're going to take me back there. Back where it happened. All right, darling, all right. Tonight's full hour of suspense. Robert Montgomery, our star, appears as Frank Townsend with Lureen Tuttle playing opposite him as Ruth Dillon in William Spears' production of The Black Curtain by Cornel Woolrich. Tonight's study in suspense. In just a moment, we will return with act two of The Black Curtain. This is CBS, The Columbia Broadcasting System. Now, we bring back to a Hollywood soundstage Robert Montgomery as Frank Townsend, alias Danny Neering, and Lureen Tuttle as Ruth Dillon in act two of The Black Curtain, a play well calculated to keep you in suspense. Ruth and I said very little to each other. While I'd hid in the phone booth at the Penn Station, she'd bought us a couple of cheap raincoats, and I sat hunched up in mine, thinking, yet not daring to think. Ruth had brought along the newspaper clippings. I read them for the 20th time. They all read alike. Dietrich Slayer assort. Secretary wanted in brutal slaying at suburban estate. Police are pressing the search for Daniel Neering, secretary in the employ of the late John Dietrich, 58, member of a well-known local family who was shot and killed in the drawing room of his New Jericho estate on the morning of December 15th. The wall safe was robbed of $20,000. Neering disappeared December 15th, on the morning of which date he is known to have had a bitter quarrel with the deceased. This last was attested to at the inquest by Ada and Franklin Dietrich, widow and brother of the murdered man. I had all the facts now. Wanted for murder. And yet everything that was in me told me that no matter who I had been, however many memories I had lost that I was no killer, that I just couldn't have... Had to get into the Dietrich house and stand again in that room where it all had happened. Maybe something would come back to me. Maybe there would be... He knows you. He's coming this way. Quick, behind this post. Jay, pull. Hey, don't I saw somebody get off with you? Oh, yes, just a man. He went to the cab stand. This time of year, you know. And got expected, as the fellow says. He's just going home, Miss Dillon. Pretty slippery. Give me a lift out the Dietrich house. No, no, thank you. They're sending the station wagon for me. Nasty night to wait. Oh, I don't mind. Really, I don't. Hey, see where that Neering fella, Townsend, or whatever he calls himself now... Townsend? He was riding out in the city on Rutherford Street under the name Townsend. City detective caught up with him in this Neering. He fractured his skull. Oh. Yeah, bad acting that fella. Always thought so. Well, detectives in the hospital don't expect him to live. Says here in the paper, city police have ordered to shoot the kill. Oh, no. Shoot the kill. What do you think to do with a mad dog? Shoot the kill. Hey there. You all right, Miss Dillon? Oh, yes. I'm just feeling... I'm all right. Don't want me to... No, no, I'm fine. You go ahead. I'll wait for the Dietrichs in the station. Well, shoot yourself, I always say. Good night, Miss Dillon. Merry Christmas. Good night, Mr. Apel. Listen, Ruth. What he said just now, I didn't attack that detective. It doesn't matter, darling. It doesn't matter. It does matter. It matters more than anything else in the whole world because now I'm a mad killer and I didn't attack or kill anyone. Not anyone. It was Dengler. He hit that detective with... Oh, Danny, who would believe you? Franklin's lawyer, a man weighing less than... You've got to believe me. If you don't believe me about this, then you must believe that I killed Dietrich, too. All I know is that I... Oh, in the bushes! Who was it? It was Aidan, Franklin, the station wagon. Then the house will be safe for us. There's no one there. No, no one for a while. Except the old man. Maybe he's out, too. Oh, Danny, that's a cruel joke. You know how he feels about you. Yes, but it seems that everything I say is a cruel joke, whether I know it or not. Open the door, Ruth. Hurry. I've got to see the inside. That room, the place where it happened. It's wrong, Danny. It's wrong. I'm telling you, you're crazy. They'll find you. Open the door, Ruth. Quick. Let's have a look at the room. Please, Danny, please. Don't talk about it. So this is where I'm supposed to have murdered John Dietrich. Danny, please. Where was it? Show me exactly where it was, Ruth. I've got to know. It... It was there. Right there. He was standing by the grandfather's clock. Are you going crazy, Danny? If they get you, you'll hang. The clock? Don't believe me, don't you, Ruth. I believe you, Danny, but I'm scared. And I love you. Ruth. What's that? Listen. That's only the old man. He's asleep in that room off there. Don't go in there, Danny. Don't please. Awake him. I want to see him. Don't, Danny. He can't help you. Turn on the light. I want to see him. I looked at him, lying there. The old man. The old man who was supposed to love me like a son. The old man who breathed and ate suffered but did not live. Inert shaped in the likeness of a human form that might have been molded out of pink dough. Cheek sunken, limbs withered, sucking air greedily through lips that were distorted old. The old man stared up at me from his bed. Every nerve, every muscle in his body were paralyzed. He couldn't even talk, nor move. He was doomed to endless days of seeing and hearing, filled with the secrets of others. The secrets he was forced to carry to the grave with him. And this was the old man on whom I had planned my last hopes. There you are. It's me, Mr. Dietrich. Ruth. This is Danny. You remember Danny, don't you? Hello, Mr. Dietrich. See how his eyes are shining. Yeah. Was he here when it happened? Danny, why do you ask such funny questions? He's been in bed here for five years. That mirror. On the wall there. The clock. Look, you can see the grandfather's clock in the other room. What are you getting at, Danny? He could see it. The old man could see the murder through the mirror. If he could only talk. But he can't talk. You scare me, Danny. He saw the man who killed John Dietrich. Look, he understands what I'm saying. He's blinking his eyes. Oh, stop torturing him, Danny. Can't you see what you're doing to him? He's trying to say something. Look, his eyes are blinking. He's going to help me. Go outside and watch Ruth. Go on. I'll watch out of the entranceway. Be careful, Danny. They'll be back any minute. Leave me alone with him. I'll call if I hear them coming. Yeah. Look, now, Mr. Dietrich, don't be afraid. I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to answer me. Are you going to tell me something about the murder? Now blink your eyes. Blink twice if you are. That's it. That's it. Once. Twice. That's good. Did you see it happen here in your mirror? Blink once if the answer is no, twice if the answer is yes. You did, huh? You saw it. Now, then, is the murderer in this house. Danny, Danny, they're coming. Frank will make it. Get out of here. Hide. Run, Danny. Run, run. The murderer in this house blink once for no, twice for yes. Yes. Danny, Danny, they're coming. Please. Wait, I almost got it. Mr. Dietrich. Mr. Dietrich, was it me? Oh, Danny, come on. Once for no, twice for yes, was it me? Get out of here. Okay. Thanks, Mr. Dietrich. I'll be right back. You thought we heard voices. What are you so jittery about, Ruth? I'm just tired, I thought. May I go to bed now? Oh, father's still awake, Ruth. Well, he'll go to sleep all right. I'm going upstairs, Mrs. Dietrich now. All right, good night, Ruth. Good night. Good night. She's brought someone back here with her. It's him, I think. Who? Dan? Oh, Frank. Take it easy. We'll get him. After the evidence we gave against him at the hearing. Frank, well, I'm scared. Let's get out of here fast. I'll go to the village with a police. Call the police. I'll do it. Yes. Hello. Too late. It's dead. The wire's cut. Come on, we'll both drive to the village. Oh, he may be waiting for us out for the cover, Frank. Oh. Uh, uh, what are you doing there, Franklin? I, uh, I think I just might need my gun. Well, let's be on our way. Now, Mr. Dietrich, you're helping me fine. You know I'm trying to save my life, don't you? Now the murderer, was it me? Was it me who did it? Me, Danny Nearing. I think once for no. Once. Once. You're sure. You're sure it wasn't me. You're smiling, Mr. Dietrich. You're smiling. Now was it somebody in this house? Then who was it? Can't you make a sound? Help me. You've got to. Was it Ada? Twice for years. Once for no. Once. Not Ada. All right. Then was it Franklin? Was it... Up on the hands, Nearing. Up or you'll never go to trial. Franklin, you've got to listen. You've got to... Shut up and drop that flashlight. Trying to kill the old man too, huh? The murderer returns to the scene of his crime. You know I didn't kill him. Tell that to the police. Ada will have me here in a couple of minutes. Where's your girlfriend, Ruth? She's not here. I don't know where she went. Never mind. I'll find her. You're a dead duck, Nearing. Killed my brother and beat it, huh? What did you get out of it? That's always puzzled. You killed your brother and now you're going to kill me. You've got nuts too. Why should I kill my own brother, you idiot? To get his share of the estate of his wife, Ada, among other things. But you can't stop with killing me. Someone else knows the truth. The old man saw it in the mirror. You'll have to kill your own father too. The old man saw it? How do you know? He told me. He told me. He's lying. He can't talk. He can't even move. He can hear and he can blink his eyes. Come over here and look. Look, here I want... Ruth! I had to do it, Danny. I heard him. He was going to kill you. Here's his gun, Danny. Take it. But Ruth, you shouldn't have in another minute. I'm not sure it was Franklin. Dad, darling, please. Let's run for it. They'll be here in a second. It's your last chance. They'll all swear you didn't. Not if I can be with the old man in another half a minute. Mr. Dietrich. Mr. Dietrich, it's Danny again. No, Danny, don't! Don't! Tell me, Mr. Dietrich, was it Franklin? Did Franklin kill your son, John? Blink once if he did. What's the matter, Mr. Dietrich? Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. Why are you afraid? He's afraid, Ruth. Oh, it's this gun. Take the gun, Ruth. You take it. He's afraid. I'm not going to hurt you, Mr. Dietrich. What's the matter? Why don't you answer me? Who killed John Dietrich? It wasn't me. It wasn't Ada. It wasn't Franklin. But someone in this house... Was it...? I told you not to come. Oh, I love you, Danny. And I wanted you. I wouldn't have let them get you. Why, Ruth? Why? Why did you kill John Dietrich? He was always after me. He wouldn't leave me alone. And I hated him. And then that night he came at me. He threatened me. He said he'd kill me. If he couldn't have me, nobody could. He had a gun, Danny. And I got it away from him. He hit the clock. He leaned against it. I thought he'd never fall down and die. I took the money to make it look like robbery. It was the day you ran away. I was crazy, I know. And they thought it was you. And they started looking. You? Why was it you? I beg you not to come back here. Ruth, put that gun down. Don't come near me, Danny. I just want to look at you. Just once more. I was hoping we could get away together. But you've been through enough because of me. And now you're clear, Danny. And this is going to clear me. No, they'll kill you. That's about all there is to tell Ruth face that door. Fire to shot into the ceiling. And the guns of the police chopped her down. That's the way she wanted it, I guess. It was gray eyes, bandaged head and all. But what's the use of talking about it? I'm trying to put it all behind me. Resume my life where it left off three years ago. Sometimes when it gets to an evening, I walk along Tillery Street. And once in a while, somebody, somebody I don't know, will say, Hello, Danny. And I, well, I just say, Hello, and walk on. I don't want to find out anything anymore. I want it all to die away and be still. And it will. Or accept Ruth. Because somewhere behind that black curtain, I was loved. And loved someone. We must have known a love that I'll never know again. And so closes the black curtain tonight's tale of suspense. In a moment, the spokesman of suspense and tonight's star, Robert Montgomery, will be back. For the benefit of late comers among our audience, may we say that suspense is now being heard as a full hour program on Saturday nights at this hour. 8 to 9 o'clock Eastern Standard Time. Suspense as always is produced, edited and directed by William Spear. Our musical director and conductor is Lud Gluskin. The composer of our original scores is Lucian Morrowake. Lorraine Tuttle appeared opposite Mr. Montgomery as Ruth Dillon. And you heard performances by Kathy Lewis, Janet Nolan, Sidney Miller, Conrad Binyon, Jack Krushen, Bill Conrad, Jerry Hausner, Paul Freese, Ira Grissel, Junius Matthews, Harry Lang, and Joseph Kearns. This is Bill Spear twice as much as out of breath as usual after our first hour of production of suspense. I certainly want to thank everyone connected with our adventure this evening and naturally it begins with Mr. Montgomery. Bob, this is going to be truly wonderful working with you. Thank you, Bill. We didn't have much more time and we don't have much more time and I think all of us are about ready to wrap up and go home. In the next weeks of suspense, we plan to bring you the very best of novels and plays. Stories by such acknowledged masters and mistresses in the art of suspense as Mary Bella Clowns, Dashiell Hammett, Agatha Christie, Eric Ambler, John Buckin, James M. Kane, Graham Greene, Raymond Chandler, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and last but by no means least, Mr. William Shakespeare. Mr. Spear and I and all of us would be tremendously interested to know what you think about the new Saturday Night Full Hour of suspense. Any suggestions and comments that you may have will certainly be valuable to us. We hope that from now on you will want to set this hour aside each week and leave the door of your radio ajar for us. See you next Saturday.