 Tired of the everyday routine? Ever dream of a life of romantic adventure? Want to get away from it all? We offer you escape! Escape! Designed for you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight we escape to pre-war Paris and the terrifying experience of a young English girl who is the victim of a gigantic conspiracy of silence as Alexander Walcott tells it in his version of the legend The Vanishing Lady A cup of tea Bruce? No, thank you my dear. I think I'll just have a Johnny Walker and soda and take a look at the evening standard. I'd like another please mother. All right Alice. Only one sugar tea. They must watch our figures. Oh nonsense! A going girl like Alice needs plenty of sugar. See mother, daddy approves. Perhaps, but mother is still boss. Yes mother. She certainly is Alice. Mother? Yes dear. I've been thinking. Yes dear. I've been thinking about my grandparents. Oh? I know all about daddy's parents. How grandfather Stanley commanded a dreadnought at the battle of Jutland and how... It was not a dreadnought Alice. It was a heavy cruiser. Oh a heavy cruiser. And he got the VC and how grandmother Stanley was a volunteer nurse at Westwell Arch when the Zeppelins came over. And I know about your father too and how he died in India from his wounds and how gallant he was at the Khyber Pass. But mother? Yes dear. You never told me anything about grandmother Winship. I... I haven't. No and I'd like to know something about... Bruce and a child 16. I think it's time she knew. But Bruce... And you'd probably feel better to get it off your chest. What mother? What is it? Well my dear, I've never talked about your grandmother because I've always half believed that someday somehow she would come down our garden walk and... I know it sounds silly. But explain where she has been for the last 20 years. Why? What happened to her? I don't know. I don't suppose I ever will. Well I'll send you a darling if it's going to upset you. No no no Bruce, you're quite right. It would be best to get it off my chest as you put it. Alice, as you know, I was born and brought up in India. I was about your age when my father was killed in the Khyber campaign. Mother decided to leave India for good and return to her old home in Warwickshire. However, it was necessary for her to go to Paris to attend to some details of my father's estate. The great Paris exposition had just opened and the city was jammed with visitors from all over the world. You can imagine our relief when we arrived at the Grand Hotel Universel and heard the clerks saying quite understandable English. Ah Madame et mademoiselle Winship. Welcome, welcome. You will please to sign the register here and here. You have our reservations. Indeed yes, and you are most fortunate Madame that you telegraphed for I have reserved for you the last room in the house. Ah I'm so relieved. Yes Cynthia, you may as well now to sign a register for yourself. Oh yes Mama, where do I write? There, on that line. Oh yes I see. Voila, you are fatigued from your journey, yes? I shall have the boy show you to your rooms at once. Madame et mademoiselle Winship a numéro 342 tout de suite. Tout de suite Monsieur. Ah, these are your bagages Madame? Yes, these six. Voila le bagage, six pièces. Cynthia, you best carry the little one with the medicine in it. Yes Mama. Permettez-moi mademoiselle. Oh thank you, I'll take that one. The little red one. Eh, bien, dissois les vis. Keep your eye on that portal Cynthia. I don't trust these Frenchmen. Oh, I don't think he'll make off with our things Mama. Ah, here's the lift. Eh, dis dans un mille, troisième étage, troisième. Do wish we could have gone straight on to Southampton. But you'd only have had to come back across the channel to see the solicitor. We really saved time this way. I suppose I mean I wish we hadn't had to come to Paris at all. It's, it's such a sinister place. Oh Mama. Voila, troisième. Eh, sois les dix, c'est right. 330, 340. 342. Voila. Entrez les dix. Ah, what a lovely big group. Oh look Mama, French windows. Oh, and the park out there. And that square with the statues on it. Eh, les dix désire, quelque chose en plus. Oh, merci. Eh, thank you, les dix. Oh Mama, it's like something out of a book. Yes my dear, that's the trouble with Paris. It's so attractive. But underneath it's evil. Ah, the furniture. The guild clock. This lovely marble table. Oh Mama, everything's so, so, so, so French. Well I'll be very glad to be on my way to where everything's English by this time tomorrow. No, no, come away from that window and help me get into something comfortable, les adieu. Yes, yes Mama. I don't know when I've been so tired. I just can't seem to catch Mama. Mama, Mama what's the matter? Mama speak to me. Oh here, I'll get you up in the bed. There, there. Now let me loosen your corset. Here Mama, here are the smelling salts. Mama, oh the telephone. I've got to get a doctor. Please hurry. Please. Oh, hello operator. Will you please send a doctor up to room number... Let me see. Number 342. Pardon? Qu'est-ce que mademoiselle désire? Will you please send a doctor to room number 342? Je ne comprends pas. Qu'est-ce que mademoiselle désire? A doctor please, a doctor. Ah, oui. I'm quite sure it was not long. Although it seemed like an eternity before the doctor arrived, accompanied by the manager of the hotel. To my great relief, the doctor spoke English. He felt Mama's pulse took her temperature, did the usual things that doctors do, and then it turned to the tail-coated hotel manager. La jeune femme d'Artele Français. Pas un mot. Vous en êtes sûr? Absolument. Alors, je peux parler à mon aise. Monsieur, si c'est une affaire très sérieuse, les palais affraient lorsque je vous mettrai au courant. Cette femme est atteinte de la peste. Elle a qu'une heure à vivre. Je n'ai pas besoin de vous dire que si cela se sait, votre atel perdra tous ses clients. Mon Dieu, non seulement l'hôtel, mais tout Paris se bidra si la nouvelle se répand. While I talked in this language, I couldn't understand. I looked from one face to the other, trying to read from their expressions how serious my mother's illness was. But they were as casual as though they were ordering dinner. Finally I could stand it no longer. They must... Oh, please, you must tell me. What's the matter with her? Mademoiselle, your mother is a... Yes, seriously, it is a collapse. Do perhaps this train of travelling, however, week or two of absolute rest will work wonders. A week or two? We were to go on to England tomorrow. Oh, that would be out of the question. Mademoiselle, she cannot be moved for at least several days. Right now she must have complete rest. The next 24 hours will be critical. Oh, mama. Poor mama. No, no, no, mademoiselle, you must not break down too. I need your help. Oh, yes, yes, of course, doctor. Immediately I need some medicine. Will you fetch it for me? Why, yes, but... Melrose, more. I must not leave your mother for a moment during these critical hours. I will write down this address and a little message to my wife. Your wife? Yes, I have the medicine already prepared at my home. It will be faster to go there for it than to a pharmacy. There are very few chemists who have the ingredients. But couldn't you telephone? Elas, I have no telephone. Voila. Voila. Here is the address, 24 B's Rue Valgras. And here is the message to give to my wife. But, doctor, I don't know Paris at all. I'm a total stranger here. I'm sure the manager here will give the necessary instructions to the taxi man, but certainly. If mademoiselle is ready. Before I quite knew what was happening, I was seated in a rickety taxicab outside the hotel where the doctor's message clutched in my hand while the hotel manager gave valuable directions to the cab driver. The slowest, as slow as possible, under no pretext, didn't bring her back here before two o'clock. Understood? Yes, I understand. It is arranged mademoiselle. Jacques is one of our most trusted chauffeurs. He will get you to the doctor's house and back in safety. Oh, thank you so much, sir. And you'll look after my mother, won't you? But of course, of that you may be sure. When we left the hotel, we crossed a huge square with statues around it and turned into a wide avenue which led up a gentle incline at the top of which was a huge arch. But before long, we turned off to the right into narrow streets. It must have been twenty minutes later when we turned into another wide boulevard and I saw another huge arch up ahead. Or was it the same arch? Driver? Mademoiselle? Haven't we passed that arch before? Look, mademoiselle. Here is the Arc de Triomphe. Here is the Tour Eiffel. Oh, please, I don't want a sightseeing tour. I want to go to this address directly. Don't you understand? Now please, take me there at once. We'll do what we can, mademoiselle. But be quiet, then. She is well, yes, this lady. But she is fine. At last, we turned into a narrow street and pulled up before a grim grey house. The blue enamel sign on the wall read number twenty-four beasts. I jumped out of the cab almost before it stopped, rushed up the three stone steps and pulled up the brass bill now. Oh, hurry, hurry, hurry. Please, please, hurry. Good morning, mademoiselle. The doctor sent me for some medicine and I'll be here. Read this, please. The doctor's wife stood there reading and rereading the note as though she didn't understand it. And until I thought I would scream. Oh, please, please, hurry. Get me the medicine. It's my mother. I must get back to her, please, hurry. She pointed to a chair and slowly walked down the hall and closed the door behind her. I waited and waited. And wondered about the time the cab had taken to get here, about that arch that looked so familiar. And I was torn by the hundred nameless anxieties that torture you on your nearest and dearest is ill. And then I heard something that froze my blood. A telephone. A telephone clearly ringing somewhere in the house. But the doctor had said he had no telephone. That was the reason I must come all this way for the medicine. Oh, no. No, it couldn't be in this house. It must be next door. Or across the street, of course. That's where the sound was coming from. But no. It was the voice of the doctor's wife answering the phone. Oh, no. No, what monstrous plot was this? I felt my scalp crawl with terror. My brain pondered and my head fell as though it would burst. I wanted to scream to run out of this awful house, to run all the way across Paris to the bedside of my mother. Voila, mademoiselle. Oh, thank you. Thank you. Au revoir, mademoiselle. Not driver, please. Please, in the name of your own mother, hurry. Back to the hotel as fast as possible, please. In just a moment, we continue with the second act of Escape. But first, no, you won't be hearing double. That'll be Groucho Marx appearing on two different CBS shows tomorrow night. First, in his own hilarious ad-lib quiz You Bet Your Life, and then immediately following as Bing Crosby's guest. Don't miss this great meeting on CBS tomorrow night. And now, we return you to... Escape. I pleaded with the taxi driver. I begged him to hurry. I explained to him in tears that my mother was desperately ill. But the taxi cab never increased its speed. We crept across Paris just as slowly as we had come. Until at last, we pulled up before the entrance of the hotel. Voila, mademoiselle. I jumped out of the cab and then I saw the sign over the hotel entrance. It said, Hotel Ritz. Driver, you've taken me to the wrong hotel. I'm staying at the Grand Hotel Universal. Well, no mademoiselle. You're Ramasheo Ritz and I'll bring you back to Ritz. There are twenty-five Franco-Conteux-Conteux. And I'll be right back with the power. Please, I don't understand what you're saying, but I want you to take me to the Grand Hotel Universal. This is where I took you in charge and this is where I'll bring you back. Now, it's my time to go. So, if you have the obligation to pay me... Oh, you're stupid, stupid, man. Can't you understand my mother is ill? You've taken more than two hours to get me to that doctor's house and back. Can't you understand my mother is sick, perhaps dying? Mademoiselle, your problems don't look at me. So, if you have the ability to pay me, I looked around me. A small group of passersby had stopped and were listening curiously to the argument and then they joined in, taking sides. Everywhere I looked were foreign faces, strangers, enemies. And then, shurlering through the crowd, I saw the bare-headed young man in tweeds with a pipe plant in his teeth. And before he had a chance to speak, I knew that help had come. Are you having some trouble? Oh, thank heaven, an Englishman. Yes, that's right. What seems to be the matter? I told him rapidly as I could. And he paid the munish cab driver. Popped me into another cab and five minutes later, we walked into the lobby of the Grand Hotel University. The manager was behind the desk. Please, my mother, is she all right? I beg your pardon. My mother, Mrs. Winship in 342, is she all right? There is no Madame Winship in 342. What? 342 is occupied by Monsieur Auguste Noir, a permanent guest. Oh, please, don't you remember me? I'm Cynthia Winship. Two hours ago, you put me into a taxi to go to the doctor's house for some medicine for my mother. No, I'm afraid mademoiselle is mistaken. I have never seen her before in my life. Well, now look here, what is this? No, listen, I swear to you, it is as I say. We signed the register less than three hours ago. We got in on a train from Marseille. Well, now let's have a look at the register. Oh, yes, yes, I'll show you. I'm in 342. Where is the register? It is here, mademoiselle. You may see for yourself. See, today's date, 14 guests registered, but I don't see any mademoiselle or mademoiselle Winship. Do you? But... But this is monstrous. It's impossible. My mother is somewhere in this hotel. What have you done with her? What have you done with her? Now, how do you feel, Miss Winship? Better, thank you. The soup was very nourishing. Well, want to have something else? A salad or a bit of roast? No, no, thank you. Just a cup of tea, perhaps. Well, yes, certainly. Garçon. Monsieur. A toast to you, mademoiselle. I don't know how to thank you, Mr... Do you realize I don't even know your name? Well, it's Bruce. Bruce Stanley. I'm glad to meet you, Mr Stanley. It's a pleasure, Miss Winship. Mr Stanley, you believe me, don't you? Of course I do, Miss Winship. We did register at that hotel. We were in room 342. I can even describe the furnishings. There was a big window that went from the ceiling to the floor. Every hotel room in Paris has windows like that, Miss Winship. Oh, they do? Yes. Well, in this room, the draperies were plum-coloured and there was a marble-top table, black marble it was, and a gilt clock it had run down. The hands stopped. I remember it at 20 minutes past three. The walls were covered in rose brocade and the bedspread was a washed-out yellow. If I could only get into that room, you'd see that I'm not making this up. No, I'm sure that you are not. Perhaps I can find a way to make them let you in the room. You can. Yes. The embassy, well, under secretary sort of thing. I believe that the British Empire has enough influence to change the mind of an obstinate Parisian keeper. Well, then let's do it right away. Well, I'm afraid the might of Britain can't move that fast. It's past dinner time. But tomorrow we shall see. Tomorrow? Oh, but I must get in that room tonight. I have no money and no way to sleep. Well, we can do nothing with the people at the hotel. You saw that. We'll just have to be patient until tomorrow. And I'm sure that I can find a room for you tonight in a pantheon near the embassy. You're so very kind. How can I ever thank you, Mr. Stanley? You might begin by calling me Bruce. Thank you, Bruce. Thank you, Cynthia. Oh! Oh! What is it? I just thought of something. The doctor. The doctor? Yes, the one the hotel manager brought in to look after mother. I still have his address somewhere here in my bag. Just a minute. Yes, here it is. Oh, we must go there immediately. He can tell us about mother. Hmm, 24 bees rule the cast. Well, it's not far. Let's just stop the boulevard Aspire. It's near the German panace. How long would it take to get there by taxi? About 10 minutes. But it took over an hour this afternoon. Oh, Mr. 24 bees rule the cast. Oh, here we are. Yes. Yes, this is the place. Wait a minute. Okay. The house is dark. Yes, well, it's quite late. Well, I don't care. We've got to find out tonight. Who's going? Oh, where is he? Oh, he's there. The upstairs window. Oh, he's the doctor. It's mademoiselle Winship. She wants to ask you about her mother. I don't know mademoiselle Winship. He says he doesn't know you. But he must. He must. Doctor, don't you remember? This afternoon, you sent me here to your house for medicine for my mother. He says he doesn't understand English. The liar, the liar, he does. He speaks perfect English. Oh, young amy, je vous conseille de ne pas déranger le sommet des gens inspectables. Et de vous zone aller avant que je l'appelle la police. Oh, I'm sorry, Cynthia. Oh Bruce. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? If it hadn't been for Bruce, I'm certain I should have gone out of my mind that dreadful night. He found a room for me at the pension near the embassy where I spent a sleepless night. I tossed and turned and worried myself in an agony almost beyond endurance. Where was my mother? What had they done with her? Bruce called for me at half past ten the next morning and took me back to the hotel. To my surprise, the attitude of the manager had changed completely. But, of course, mademoiselle may inspect room 342. We are only too glad to convince mademoiselle that her mother is not and never was in the Grand Hotel Universet. Why, I never... I personally will escort you to the room. This way please to the ascensor. Oh, Bruce, that terrible man, that horrible, horrible... Don't let him upset you. Now, Bruce, remember, what I told you last night, you'll see. Plum-colored draperies, black marble top table, rose walls and a gilt cloth with hands stopped at twenty minutes past three. You will see. This way it was room 342 you wish to see mademoiselle. Yes, that's right. Third door to the right. So, here we are. Oh, you see, Bruce, I know where it is. Yes, mother. Voila. Enter, please. No, Bruce, now you'll see the yellow bedspread... Not quite the room you just described in the elevator, mademoiselle. The drapes are royal blue. Hey, little dusty, I fear. I must have this room renovated. There is no marble top table. No. The clock, as you notice, is running. No. And, right on time, it seems. The walls are not rose-brocade, but yellow cloth, wallpaper. Now, mademoiselle, you see how thoroughly mistaken... No! They had tried to make me think I was mad. They succeeded. I remembered nothing until I awoke in my aunt's house in England two weeks later. Thanks to Bruce, who never left my side during those terrible days when my sanity hung in the balance. Well, Alice, that's the story. And that's why I've never been able to talk to you about your grandmother, Winship. Oh, mother, how horrible. Because, all these years, I've clung to the foolish hope that somehow she'd come back and tell us herself what happened. You poor dear. You may as well dispel that hope forever, Cynthia. What? Well, since you've at last brought yourself to discuss your mother's disappearance, I think it's time you knew the true facts. Bruce. Your mother died 20 minutes after you left the hotel on that fool's errand with the doctor. Oh, no. She died of the bubonic plague. She'd courted in India before she sailed. The doctor recognized the symptoms the moment he examined her. He told the hotel manager in French in your presence. They agreed that the matter must be kept completely secret. If the news leaked out that there was a case of plague in Paris, the city would have been emptied of visitors and the exposition would have been a failure. Oh, Bruce. The conspiracy of silence began in the hotel. The bellboy was paid to claim he never saw you. The taxi driver was paid to take you to the doctor's house by the most roundabout route. The note to the doctor's wife advised her to detain you as long as she could. And the taxi driver added his own imagination to the touch by returning you to the ritz instead of the universe. I shudder to think what might have happened if I hadn't come through the Place Vendôme just then. But you didn't know? Not then. When did you find out? The next morning. By then, the conspiracy had grown to international proportions. The embassy had been advised if the exposition was a failure, the frank would fall and the pound sterling would be affected. That sort of thing. I knew when we went back to the hotel you would not find your plum drapes and rose-colored walls and black marble-topped tables. And you let me go through with that? What could I do, Cynthia? I was acting under orders. I knew that the hotel had completely fumigated and redecorated the room overnight, and everything was in red in us to repudiate your story. I had to let the last actor that dreadful farce play to its dreadful end. What did they do with the mother? Her body was removed from the room less than 30 minutes after you left it and immediately burned. Why didn't you tell me years ago? Why did you let me go on all this time? This is the first time that you have ever mentioned your mother since then, my dear. Alice? Yes, Mother? There's a new issue of the tatler in the library. Wouldn't you like to look at it? But, Mother, I want to know about... There's a good girl. I want to have a talk with your father. Escape is produced and directed by William N. Robeson. Tonight we have presented The Vanishing Lady by Alexander Wolcott, freely adapted for radio by Mr. Robeson. Featured in the cast were Joan Banks as Cynthia, Ben Wright as Bruce, Anthony Ross as the Doctor, and John Hoyt as the hotel manager. Featured were Irene Teddrow, Ramsey Hill, Nan Bordman, Daphne O'Callaghan, and Paul Fries. Special music was composed and conducted by Del Castillo. Next week! You are in command of an English destroyer sailing to join the North Sea patrol in October 1914, when destiny forces you to become the man who won the war. Next week we escape with one of the classic stories of the First World War. Robert Buckner's famous and unforgettable tale, The Man Who Won the War. Goodbye then until this same time next week, when once again we offer you Escape. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.