 Finding life rather dull, dreaming again of exotic places, wishing you were somewhere else. We offer you escape. Escape with us now to Western Europe and an exciting story about the most murderous group of men on Earth, as Anthony Ellis tells it in a bullet for Mr. Smith. I've been asked to take the job because as a freelance correspondent in Europe, I could travel anywhere and talk to anybody without a rousing suspicion. I would be working for the French intelligence office. And since I was unmistakably American, it was hoped that enemy agents would be slow to discover me as a danger to them. Five days after I accepted the job, I was told to go to a little movie on the left bank in Paris so I would make my first contact. I went, bought a ticket, and found my way to the 15th row fourth seat from the aisle. Excuse me. I'm sorry. Excuse me. Excuse me. Can you tell me the time? The time? Nine o'clock, Monsieur. Nine exactly? Nine exactly. The man we're looking for calls himself Smith. He may be English, but we don't think so. Where do I find him? We don't know. He was in Paris two days ago, but we have an idea. He's headed for Switzerland. And the description? About six foot, 180 pounds. Dark, small triangular scar on a polyp. Okay. There is a tobacco shop in a village called Devon. It's on the Swiss border. His name is Mont, one of our men. Let her go there. Get Smith. Kill him if you have to. Right. It concerned the plans of one of Western Europe's greatest defenses against invasion. The new rocket bases in France. Somebody had gained access to all the details of those rocket bases, but it remained to find out who. Then to stop him before he could get them out of the country. By midnight I was on my way to the Swiss border. The next afternoon I reached Devon and found the tobacco shop of my contact, Mont. Monsieur? I'd like some tobacco. Something different. Oh, sure. I make a blend. Perhaps you will be good enough to judge it. Ah, blend de Mont. You are... Jean Mont? I am, monsieur. Um... You've been highly recommended in Paris. I'm buying the tobacco for a friend of mine. Mr. Smith. Um, Mr. Smith. One moment, please. One must be so careful. This way, please. All right. You have credentials? Yeah. Right here in my wallet. You have Mr. Hickock? No. That's the man who made the wallet. I'm Alan Rogers. Of course. Thank you. Now we talk business. Sit down, please. Thanks. First, who is Mr. Smith? I don't know. That's a help. Let me explain. We know there is a Mr. Smith. But as to his true identity... Okay, we'll get to that later. You think he's got the information? No, not yet. Otherwise, he would not still be here. Where is he now? Across the border at Neant. He appears to be a very rich Englishman spending his time at Lake Geneva. He was in Paris a couple of days ago. Perhaps he was. What do you mean? Perhaps he was. I am not trying to be mysterious, Mr. Rogers. I said perhaps he was because Mr. Smith may be a number of people. A number of people may be Mr. Smith. Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. Are we looking for a gang who call themselves Smith or one man? I don't know. All I can tell you is that he... are very clever and very dangerous. We had one operative working in Neant. He became friendly with a Mr. Smith. They went boating on the lake. Our man did not return. An accident said Mr. Smith. Wait. Stay here, please. Yeah, sure. Good afternoon, mademoiselle. How may I serve you? A pack of de maurier cigarettes, please. De maurier? I'm afraid, mademoiselle, that I do not stock the brand. Isn't he awfully hard to get here? All right, a player, please. Certainly. Any luck, my dear? I'm afraid not. Only players. I... I just remembered. De maurier, was it not? There may be some in the back room. I ran to the front room but got only a glimpse of the man as he jumped into a closed car. He was tall and wore a mustache. I couldn't see the girl. He lay beside the counter, a package of players clutched in his dying hand. A note beside him. He was trying. Trying hard. Go on, go on. What is it? Say it. Yeah, yeah, neon. Mr. Smith... Grand Hotel. He was dead. So I notified the local police then took a bus the seven miles to neon. I signed the register at the desk of the Grand Hotel and turned to follow the page to my room. Oh, oh, oh, I'm sorry. Oh, it's my fault. I'll never look where I'm going. I hope you didn't break the mirror. No, it's... You're American. Yes. New England? Vermont. Wonderful. I went to Bennington. My name is Mary Donnelly. My name is Rogers, Alan Rogers. Oh, I'm so homesick for some good American talk. Will you buy me a drink? Well, sure. There's something about meeting someone from home when you're in a foreign country, especially a girl, that is, most girls, but not Mary Donnelly. I'd never met her before, but I knew her voice. She was the girl in Mont's tobacco shop. She'd been with whoever killed the French agent. And I had a hunch that was Mr. Smith. And so my parents being filthy rich decided the best way for me to forget the cad was to send me to Europe for a year. So, here I am. Nice way to forget a cad. What about you? What are you doing in Switzerland? Vacation. I had a job in Paris and got tired and decided to come here. I wanted to see the rest of Europe before it blew up. Oh. You sound disappointed. Oh, no, not really. You might be a secret service manager. Sorry. I'm being romantic. You do look the type, you know. Oh, is there a type? Oh, yes. Handsome, square jaw. No, that's a broken jaw. I got it in a football game along with a name, whiz. Oh, that's a candy bar, remember? You're right. I never thought of it before. Ah, but the jaw looks very distinguished. Well, it aches when it rains. It does. Ah, looks like we've got company. So, here you are, Mary. Why, sir, I hope I'm not interrupting. Of course not. Mr. Rogers, I'd like you to meet Mr. Warwick Smith. Mr. Smith. It happened as quickly and uneventfully as that. Mr. Smith, the same man I'd seen leaving months to back her up. It was all very chummy and well met. We had cocktails. We enjoyed one another's company. And to look at the three of us, you wouldn't have thought that espionage and murder sat with us. You mean to say that you haven't seen Geneva yet? No. Well, that's capital. We must take you, hmm, Mary? Uh, of course. Fine. Will you both join me for dinner? Oh, well, I hate to break up any plans, but I will not at all. I insist. We'll have to, as we can take the launch down to Geneva. It's a lovely trip. Mr. Warwick Smith. Oh, here, boy. Excuse me. Telephone call, monsieur. Thank you. Will you take it here? No, no, thanks. I shall be a moment. You order another round, Rogers. Right. Oh, he seems to be a nice fellow. Hmm? Oh, Warwick? Yeah. Yes. Mr. Rogers. Yes? Would you do me a favor? Well, I can try. I know it sounds strange, but please, don't go with us to Geneva tonight. Why not? Please, just leave the hotel. Go back to Paris. I can't tell you anything else, but do as I say. Please, go away. Suddenly, she wasn't putting on an act anymore. The cocktail hour was over, and so was the small talk. Mary Donnelly wanted me out of the way, yet I was pretty sure she didn't know what I was after. I was trying to make it add up when Mr. Smith came back. I say I feel perfectly septic about this, but I'm afraid our little joint is off tonight, old man. Oh, it's too bad. Perhaps some other time. Yes, telephone. Well, it was rather urgent. Mary, it was the matter we spoke of earlier. Oh, yes. Don't forgive us, Rogers. It's all right. Forget it. Maybe we can get together tomorrow. Yes, rather. Come along, my dear. Goodbye. I'll see you later. Oh, please forget what I said before. I was only trying to be romantic. Oh, sure. I know. You've been reading too much Eric Ambler and John Bucken. Spies and stuff. Goodbye, Mr. Rogers. Goodbye. They were on the move. Mont had said that they didn't have the plans yet, which could mean that Mr. Smith and his girlfriend were expecting to get them tonight. I followed them out to the lobby, watched them go upstairs, then sat and waited. They came out of the elevator together and left the Grand Hotel. I followed. It wasn't hard. They headed straight for the Neon Railroad Station. Hey, Mr. Sayer. A couple of friends of mine are taking the train tonight. They just bought tickets. A tall Englishman and a pretty girl. So... Yes, of course. To Basel. Work only number six. You are seeing them off? No. I'm going with them. I stayed out of sight behind the baggage carts, waiting for the train to pull in. Mr. Smith, Mary Donnelly, walked up and down the platform. Just a couple of nice tourists seeing the sights of Europe. Then a man came along. Smith shook hands with them. They went on walking. As they passed me, I got my first good look at the stranger. There's something familiar. Something. Took a few seconds to register. The man we are looking for calls himself Smith. He may be English, but we don't think so. About six feet, one hundred and eighty pounds. Dark, small triangular scar on his upper lip. Then I remembered. This man on the platform fitted the description the French Intelligence Office had given me in Paris. Even to the triangular scar on his lip. I had found myself another Mr. Smith. Escape under the direction of Norman MacDonald returns in just a moment. The Trojan horse worked out pretty well. It got the Greeks in through the walls of Troy so they could take the city. Well, false ideas can be used the same way. We're being invaded, so to speak, when we get hold of mere scraps of information or depend upon just part of the truth. Actually, there's very little difficulty in finding out for yourself what's right and what's wrong. All you have to do is keep well informed. And you have the advantage of the greatest and most accurate news sources in the world. The American techniques of gathering news, of culling the truth from the false. You'll find all the right information by following the newspapers, the magazines, the books, by listening to newscasts and radio roundtable discussions on vital subjects. They're all available to you. Find out the whys and the wherefores. You'll be glad you did. And you'll be a better serviceman and a better citizen. And two, remember, the more you know, it's as simple as that. And now, back to escape. I sat in my compartment and tried to figure on my next move. Is it that certainty that Smith's one and two were in possession of the rocket-based plans? The fact that they were headed for Basel told me that. Just across the Swiss border was Laura in Germany. That's a matter of six or seven miles from Basel. And once in the side of Germany, it would be easy going for them to points east. I had to stop them before we got to Basel. But I was on a Swiss train and the Swiss are the most neutral people in the world. They can get real tough about their neutrality. I knew I couldn't get anywhere trying to hide, so I went to the lounge car to let them know I was aboard. Mary Donnelly was sitting in an armchair looking out into the darkness. Hi. What are you doing here? Going to Basel. But I... I know, I know. Let's say I'm romantic. It would have been very dull and neon without you there. I don't believe you. Um, where's Mr. Smith? Let me alone. Well, they didn't teach you much about matters at Bennington, did they? Please. What's the matter? Nothing. Oh, I thought you'd be glad to see me. Listen, please. If they know you're here, they'll... They'll what? Don't you understand? Mr. Smith isn't what you think. Really? You must believe me. It's serious. They'll think you're following them. I am. You... Well, I'm following you too. You fool. Why can't you? Well, well, Mr. Rogers. Mary, you didn't just rise. Hi, Mr. Smith. Right. Um, I'd like you to meet Mr. Tall Chief. Mr. Rogers. Mr. Tall Chief? How do you do? Why, uh... Why don't we all have a drink to celebrate? I mean, we only just said goodbye to Mr. Rogers and neon and... Yes, a happy reunion, eh? You didn't say you were going to buy for Mr. Rogers? No. I didn't, did I? Well, I'll order at the bar. Is Johnny Walker all right? Fine. I'll go with you. I like my drinks just so. It's the trouble of these boys. They're nice fellows. You know, when you're traveling, you're really... You're an American agent, aren't you? No. You are? No. Just working for a country. Like you. They know it, too. I didn't think my being here would fool him for long. He'll kill you, you know. Oh, and a Swiss train? That'll take some explaining. Have a word with Chet or Hungarian. They'll do it. It'll be an accident. Like the others? Like the tobacconists at Devon? How did you... I was there in the back room. You knew who I was all the time? I knew what you are, too. What's the matter? You're home sick? Shut up. Where are you going? I don't know anywhere. I can't stick it. You might try jumping off the train. It'll be quicker than a long trial. I thought she was going to faint, but she got hold of herself and ran down the cart. I sat back and waited for the drink. It was going to be quite a game from here on. I knew, I knew. The question now seemed to be who carried the stolen plan. Smith, tall chief? Or was tall chief really Smith? It was beginning to sound like a who's on first routine when the Scotch and Soda arrived. There. Here we are. Oh, thanks a lot. Where's Miss Donnelly? Oh, she... I don't think she felt too well. Must have gone to her compartment. All of a sudden, wasn't it? Must have been. Look here. Why don't we all go to my compartment? That's wonderful, tall chief. We can play some cards. I imagine the poker's your game, eh, Mr. Rogers? It's a good game, but not tonight. Oh, but you must. I mean, well, we can hardly take no for an answer. Oh, no. I don't feel like it. Compartments are stuffy. I stay out of them as much as possible. This won't do at all. I mean, three is such a good game. Sorry. Mr. Rogers, do you know what this is in my pocket pipe? Mm-hmm. Play again. Uh, gun. Well done, Mr. Rogers. Come along. Um, aren't you afraid it might go off? Make a lot of noise. The conductor down there might wonder. Hmm. Come on, Smith. We'll pop into the girl and then play some yuker. Yes, right, you are. Perhaps Mr. Rogers will join us later. I'm sure he will. I'd won that round. They tried to bluff me and they lost out. But that still hadn't got me closer to what I was after. So I finished my drink and had another. Then I went to marry Donnelly's compartment. Rogers. I don't want to talk to you. I'll bet you don't. Open up or I'll break the door in. Mr. Smith is in the next compartment. Then we'll keep it quiet. Can he get in? Is there an adjoining door? Yes, but it's locked. It doesn't matter. Would you trust him? They're angry with me. They think I had something to do with your being here. That's tough. You don't know. You don't know what they're like. I've got a rough idea. So did Mont. I couldn't help it. I didn't know Mr. Smith was going to kill him. Why did you go to Divon? He said he wanted some cigarettes, a special brand. They didn't have them in Neon. Go on. Later, Mr. Smith told me. They found out there was a French agent in Divon who knew about us. He said he had to kill him. We were so close to getting the plans, nothing could interfere. Which one is the real, Mr. Smith? Tall chief? I don't know. Are there others? Yes. It's a code name. Okay. It doesn't matter then. Who's got the plans? I don't know. Where are you crossing into Germany? Laura? I didn't want to go. I didn't know what they were like. Well, now you know. It was like a game at home, in college. We used to sit up drinking cokes and tearing up democracy. I didn't know. Sure, sure, honey. You didn't know they play real rough bullets and everything. Please don't. Please don't. I was wrong. I was wrong. You sure were. Listen. Listen, I'll help you. I will. You expect me to believe that? Yes. I don't know what I can do, but trust me. I'll help you get the plans back. You know what it means if they find out? I know. I want to help you. It's not me you're helping. It's a lot of other people you don't even know. Okay. Smith's compartment? Yes. I'm going to take a chance on you. If you double cross me. Well. Oh, Mr. Rogers and Mary, you're feeling better. Come in, come in, come in. Thank you. Thank you very much. Both of you. What? Come on over there. Go on, go on. Let's cut that. You can do better in your own language. Get back. I want those plans. Guns make noise, Mr. Rogers. Not with a silencer, brother. You should know. Hand them over. I'm sorry. All right, Mary, Donnellier, whatever your name is. If you're going to make a sucker out of me, now's the time. Here, hold the gun on them. I'm going to tear this place apart, and if they move, shoot. Yes. Mary, quick. Give me the gun. No. I'll kill you if you don't stand still. That's what I wanted to know. While she stood there holding the gun, I ripped the place up and down. Their suitcases, chairs, light fixtures, carpeting, everything. Anywhere that a microfilm or shredded paper could be hidden, but it wasn't there. I searched the two men, and I searched them thoroughly, but there was nothing. If one of them or both had memorized the rocket-based system, I was sunk. And they wouldn't talk. So there was nothing to do but wait. We waited. Waited the whole night as the train crawled northward, sitting, watching each other. The girl sat staring out the window. Tall chief read a newspaper and then handed it over to Smith. I held the gun. And we waited. We'd be in Basel in three minutes, Mr. Rogers. Isn't this rather ridiculous, Mr. Rogers? Obviously, you've beaten. Why don't you go back to your own compartment? We changed at Basel for Laura. If I have to, Mr. Smith, I'll kill you as the train stops. I'm going to get those plans. My dear fellow, if you kill us, do you think for one minute that another won't get through with the plans? I don't think so. You've got them somewhere. And you know you can't get another copy. It was a shot in the dark. But as soon as I said it, I was sure I'd hit something. They were getting nervous. Tall chief's eye started to twitch. I kept up the pressure by tightening my finger on the trigger. Mary Donnelly just stared at them. Once the train stopped, I was finished. Either I shot them down or gave up. The train was beginning to slow down. I saw the headline on the newspaper lying at my feet. It was only a second, but it was enough. Mary, hold the gun. What is it? Right under my nose. I've got it. English paper dated January 13th, night edition. But that was last night. That's right. But don't. Don't you move, boys. That is a neat trick. Your paper, I'll bet, Tall Chief. What of it? Nothing much, except that paper came out last night at 7 o'clock in London, and you got on this train at 7 in Switzerland. That'd be some delivery service, eh? The whole thing. Two columns. Not even in code. What nerve. Nice printing job, too. Get her! Yes, sir! She'd taken her eyes off them just long enough. Tall Chief was wrestling the gun away, and I was going down with Smith on top. I managed to roll out from under, just as the gun went off. Then I got my arm around Smith's neck and held him against me as a shield, my back to the wall. Now, Mr. Rogers, let's go with him. You're finished, and you know it. Sure. Sure. You can have him. I'll take the gun. There was nothing to do for Mary Donnelly. She'd been hit when the gun went off. I'd like to have told her that everything was OK, but I guess she knew it. I'd fix it so that in the reporter family would never know what's the least I could do. The Swiss authorities in Basel were tough. They had Smith and Tall Chief for murder. Me? Well, I was an innocent bystander. They let me go. I went back to Paris with a newspaper under my arm. My job was finished, and I turned it over to the country that hired me. Under the direction of Norman McDonnell, Escape has brought you a bullet for Mr. Smith by Anthony Ellis. John Boehner was starred as Alan Rogers, with Gene Bates as Mary Donnelly, and Ben Wright as Mr. Smith. Featured in the cast were Larry Dubkin, Harry Bartel, Edgar Berrier, and Jack Krushen. The special music for Escape was composed and conducted by Del Castillo.