 Suspense! Autolight and its 96,000 dealers present. Mr. Gregory Peck, in Nightmare, a suspense play produced and edited by William Spear. Friends, Autolight welcomes you to suspense. And this is Harlow Wilcox, urging you to do yourself and your car the great big bountiful favor of replacing old worn out narrow gap spark plugs with a set of new wide gap Autolight resistor spark plugs. That's the biggest news I know. But I've also been told to tell you that suspense is going to receive a great big important national honor tonight during our usual between the acts intermission. And say, when it comes to honors, you'll want to award your car a set of wide gap Autolight resistor spark plugs. Your engine will idle smoother, give better performance on leaner gas mixtures, actually save gas. And if you want the real lowdown on how Autolight resistor spark plugs reduce television interference, see a copy of this week's Saturday Evening Post and turn to pages eight and nine. See your Autolight spark plug dealer today. And remember, you're always right with Autolight. Oh, and remember too, suspense on television returns to many stations throughout the nation Tuesday night, September 6th. And now with Nightmare and with the performance of Gregory Peck, Autolight hopes once again to keep you in suspense. They say every Nightmare has a prelude. Something that inspires it, something that happened or almost happened that your inmost mind seizes upon. It lives there in the back of your head and it multiplies itself and fattens on tiny fears until it's grown into a monstrous bloated horror. And then when it's full sized with dread, it springs out at us from evil blackness at night when you're defenseless in sleep. The prelude to my Nightmare occurred at six o'clock that evening, the third of July. Since Elsa's illness, I've been walking home from the station evenings instead of having her meet me. It's a pleasant six or seven blocks along Heartsdale Road and then up the hill to Ridgecrest, just at the corner there, the kids play baseball. The signs say slow children and everything, but it's a nasty spot and coming down the hill, a guy might- Look out, look out! Hey, you, what's the matter with you? Don't you know that- I didn't see him, brother. They got no right to play with him. Have you been drinking? Oh, me? No, because if you had, I'd pull you out of that car so fast and take you over to the police. It's all right, brother, calm down. Nobody's hurt, nobody's hurt. Just a little scared. I was still trembling when I got home. I head ached and I couldn't eat dinner. It wasn't something I could tell Elsa about. She wasn't ready yet to hear things like that, so I just sat there at the table, looking across at Stevie, half hearing his prattle about the new fishing rod and how many fish he'd catch on our outing tomorrow and some little story he'd learned in school about Thomas Jefferson and the first Fourth of July. And then pretty early, I took a pill and went to bed. It was the next afternoon. We were driving along, my wife, my boy, and myself. You know that winding road that leads up from Kingston to Falls Town in the trout country? A lot of hairpin turns and a few bad shoulders, but beautiful, beautiful scenery. And that's what we all needed after her nervous breakdown. Little slow around the turns, Ben. Why do you drive so fast? You're never driving too fast as long as you feel the cars under control. Bet it wasn't under control a minute ago. What a curve. Ben, the gas tank's almost empty. Why didn't you listen to me and fill up at the last station? There's always a reserve after the empty mark. Bet we went out of gas. Well, it seems to me, youngster, that when I tell you that... What's wrong? Why are we stopping? Oh, that's what I'd like to know. You know, Dad, you know. Yeah, yeah, I know. Out of gas. Oh, Ben. Will you ever learn? Well, everybody runs out of gas once in a while. Okay, well, it's a nice day for me to take a hike. But, Ben, is it all right to be parked like this? On the curve, the close to the road? No, why not? Where's the traffic? Only adventurers like us know about this road. Well, goodbye, folks. Oh, goodbye, Mr. Know-it-all. I'll go with you, Dad. Oh, you'll stay here. Rule of the woods. Always leave one man behind to protect the women. Oh, can I take out my rod? Can I practice how to cast? Sure. And you, lady, you wipe off that smile. With my feet, this is a first-class tragedy. Well, it's a smart thing you did coming back this way. Nothing up your head for five miles with the Royal Coachman. Oh, what do you mean? Name of a trout fly. Well, I know that. So, name of a roadhouse. Fancy name for a saloon. Hanging out for fishermen, they say. Oh, oh, what do you say? Don't go there crooked-us-looking bunch you ever seen crooks from the big town. You go to my nephew, Sammy's place in town, Sammy Crawford. Clean sheets, good beds, home cooking. Good undertaker, too. Call yourself a mortician. Well, what do they need him for, the fish? A live or dead. He puts you to bed. Well, anything else? How's your oil? Oh, that's the gas thing. So are we all straight? Yeah. One dollar deposit on the can. Give it to my nephew, Sammy, and let him take the dollar off your bill. Oh, well, we may not see Sammy. We'd like to pitch camp tonight. Got a place? No. Oh, that's bad. It gets dark. Mind you, quick up this way. You sleep at Sammy's, Mr. Better make a reservation, trout season. Well, maybe you're right. You got a telephone in there? Sure have. Fifteen cents. Oh, this is going to be expensive fishing. Oh, what's nephew Sammy's number? It's right here on the wall, over the phone. Oh, say, look at that fellow coming down the pike there. Eighty miles. Found for the roadhouse. Can't wait. Say, there are two dozen numbers over this phone. Pick the biggest one, the one in red. Oh, look at him go, would you? Go on, you crazy fool, you're going to save five minutes if you have to kill five people to do it. Will you try to straighten out some of them bins up ahead? They are crazy fools. The pine trees were casting their last longest shadows across the road as I hiked back to the car. Well, we weren't going to get too much fishing done on the 4th of July, but we had to find some for Stevie. What a kid. Teasing his old man all the time. When I came around that hairpin turn and there was the car a few yards away, but no family. Uh, Elsa? Hey, Stevie. No family. Oh, Stevie was asleep and she didn't want to call out. That's right, the kid was tired, a lot of excitement for one day. I stepped on something, Stevie's trout rod, lying in the middle of the road. These kids have no sense of responsibility, a split bamboo rod with silk winding and a balance that was so perfect, I stepped up to the car. Elsa sat in the back seat looking at me and in her lap she held my boy, dead. Elsa couldn't speak, she couldn't speak, couldn't speak. I forced some brandy between her teeth and made her swallow it. Hands were like ice, I wanted to rub them but I couldn't pry them loose from the boy. No! No! No! You want to make sure. Elsa, how did it happen? Came around the bend and it swirred. Elsa, the what? The pebbles everywhere. They're just sticky flying out of it. Elsa. Like a ball. Take some more brandy, it'll do you good. Elsa, you've got to take some more brandy. Elsa. That's how he looked, standing in the road with a bottle on his hand. Who was standing in the road? The man. The man who killed us. He came back? He got out of his car and he came over to where I lay in the road with Stevie. He had a bottle and he took a drink and he offered me a drink and he said he was sorry. And then he drove away. Elsa, don't, don't Elsa. Then the hate began to grow. She couldn't remember his car or the clothes he wore and I couldn't make her describe his face. But I knew that somehow I'd find him, couldn't be very far off, not in this part of the country. I'd find him, and when I did, I'd kill him. AutoLite is bringing you Mr. Gregory Peck in Nightmare, tonight's production in Radio's Outstanding, Theatre of Thrills, Suspends. Friends, this does my AutoLite heart good. It's my privilege to introduce Mr. Fred Dearborn, President of the National Safety Council, who will present to Mr. Royce G. Martin, President of AutoLite, the National Safety Council's annual award for, but you can't guess, an AutoLite Suspense program. Yes, Suspense not only won the Alfred P. Sloan Award for Distinguished Public Service to Highway Safety, but another great honor for this same program will now be presented. Friends, Mr. Dearborn. Thank you, Harlow Wilcox. The National Safety Council wishes to thank you, Mr. Martin, and the Electric AutoLite Company for bringing to your tremendous radio audience the year's Outstanding Highway Safety program. James Cagney in the Suspense show titled No Escape. It was a wonderful story presented to perfection by Mr. Cagney and his supporting cast. The judges unanimously selected it as the winner. So now, Mr. Martin, I have the pleasure of presenting to you this certificate of award. Thank you, Mr. Dearborn. In promoting Highway Safety, and you can rest assured, it is a great pleasure to have a suspense when this outstanding recommendation from the National Security Council. I speak for one and all of AutoLite employees. I trust that tonight's show will make an equal contribution, especially at this time with a heavy travel over the Labor Day weekends. Thank you again, Mr. Dearborn. And now, AutoLite brings back to our Hollywood soundstage, Gregory Peck in Nightmare, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. I plunged the car back into darkness toward the roadhouse, the killer, the dirty, dirty killer. There was so much dust, dust and pebbles and Stevie flying on him, like a bird. Yes. Like a bird. Yes, Elsa. He got out of his car and he offered me a drink. He stood there and he said, you better take a drink. Oh, there's the royal coachman, that roadhouse. And he said he was sorry. He'll stop here and use the phone. There's a Sam Crawford in Fallstown. He runs some tourist house in a funeral chapel. I'll call him from here. Yes. Oh. See all the lights. Why are all the lights on? It's a roadhouse, Elsa. So many people going in. Why are they laughing? Well, they don't know how we feel, Elsa. They don't know about us. Is it all right to leave you here for a moment? I want to call. There he is. Would you like me to... Elsa. That's him. Who? Who? The one who hit Stevie? Where? There he is. Where? That one? The man standing in the doorway? How do you know? Can you see his face? He came over and he stood close and he said, you better take a drink. He was big and fat and his body filled the frame of the door. He ran a pudgy hand across his face. Now, he was drunk all right. And he was trying to shake himself out of it. Well, he'd never drink again. He'd never drive again, not after I got through with him. Elsa, sit back. Now, don't let anyone see you. He killed us. Yes, I know. I know. Now, wait here, Elsa. Wait here. Don't get out of the car. I watched him go inside. He walked across the lobby and disappeared in the bar. I went in after him. He was sitting there, his elbows on the bar and his head between his hands. I said where I could watch him and still not be too close. Yeah, with soda. Before the bartender hardly let go, he had it down. And then his watery bloodshot eyes looked about the room. His eyes caught mine. He called to the bartender and then whispered something in his ear, looking at me, then pointing. The bartender walked over. What'll it be, Mac? Oh, nothing. Really, I don't care for anything. It's on this gentleman. Have a drink, fella. It's on me. No thanks. Can't drink alone. Never could. Come on now, have a drink. What'll it be? A soda, man. You gotta have a drink with him. Come on. Better take a drink with him, fella. Well, soda, just plain soda, but I'll pay for it myself. Just plain soda? Please, here's the money. What do you think you're doing? He don't want your money. Ain't that right? Your money's no good here. He kept breathing in my face and talking and ordering more drinks. And I kept thinking of Elsa in the car. The way her eyes changed when she saw him, the thing in her eyes when she looked at him. Fat man breathing down my neck and juggling like nothing happened. I'll have it again the same way. Come on, fella. Drink up. Come on. You can't drink that stuff without something in it. Drink it. Hey. Hey, give him something in that soda. I don't want any. Thank God. He don't want it. He don't want it. No. I'll have it again the same way. Coming up. He kept looking at me. Breathing at me. He had the face of such an ordinary man, only very beefy. Such an ordinary man. How could he do what he did and then run away? I wondered who he was. What kind of work he did? Did he have a family? Did he have a son of his own? Was he having all those drinks to try to forget? Well, I couldn't let him forget. How long was he going to sit there? A couple of more drinks and he finally got up. He threw a bill on the bar and started to go. Hey, you changed. You never mind the change. He waved a pudgy hand. Big shot. Big tipper. Very generous. Nice guy. He even offered Elsa a drink after he killed our boy. I followed him into the lobby. He went to the desk. Two fifty-seven. Good night, sir. Good night. He started for the elevator. I hurried to the stairway. I ran up to the second floor. I waited off the stairway landing and watched the elevator door open. Wait a minute. Not so fast. Please. Wait a minute. Don't shut that door. Not so fast. There's someone else ringing. I want to ask you a question. I have to go. People ringing. Can I ask you a question? Please step away from the door. You're blocking... Answer my question. Get away from the door then I'll tell you. Sure. Now answer me. Whether you can... I think she's smart. He started down the hall. Coming towards me. I stepped back into the stairway. Took a cigarette out of my packet. Started to light it. He walked past. Then he stopped. Oh. I... I didn't want to talk to him. Just wanted to do it and get it over with. I started toward him. We were alone. Then somebody was coming down the stairs. You wouldn't mind coming along. I don't like it. Even the service is lousy in the place. One elevator and you can die. How's my life? Nothing to do but face. Before I could answer him, his fat, pudgy hand closed over mine and drew the lighted match to the cigarette in his mouth. He putt loosely. His hand was damp and warm. I drew back. Thanks. Yeah. Yeah. See you around. I counted the doors as he passed on down the hall. One. Two. Three. The fifth door down. That was his room. I walked slowly down. I stood in front of his door. So now it would happen. What do you want? I want to ask you something. May I... Sure. Sure. Come in. He waddled over to the bed and sat down. You sit down. His watery bloodshot eyes blinking at me. I didn't know how to begin or what to do. The blind rage was gone. Something happened to me. Suddenly I didn't know what I was doing there. What do you want? I walked over to the window, thumbling for some foolish excuse. There was no use. I couldn't kill anybody. I couldn't do it. Ask you what do you want? I looked out of the window. The light from the neon sign in the roof made everything look so lonely and dead. What's the matter with you? There was my car in the driveway and Elsa sitting there. Her face, the thin outline of her face, so gray. Her mouth pressed tight in a straight hard line. What do you want from me? She was holding my son. Holding him tight. Press close to her, holding him. My son. What do you want? Why did you kill my son? Huh? You're a drunken fool. Why did you kill my son? You're crazy. You're crazy. One shot eyes bulging from his head, frightened him. Guilty. He reached for the phone and I was on him. Why did you kill him? You killed him. You killed him. You killed him. It was done. All done and over with. And now I felt better. Now it would be easier. It'd be a little less pain when they buried my son. Elsa, you all right? I made sure of that. Now let's get out of here. A twisted black top rode unwound steadily under the headlights. But something had changed. It was no longer a road. It was a cloudy, misty jungle where everyone was old and haggard. And there were no children. And then we brought our boy into Fallstown. If you don't mind a suggestion, Mr. Cain, you look pretty done in. And when we carried the boy out of the car, I had a look at your wife. Yes, I know. Good thing you didn't stop at the Royal Coachman. Where? The Royal Coachman. That's a roadhouse. Halfway between here and my uncle's gas station. You didn't see it? No. It's all lit up with neon. Like a regular Christmas tree. Troopers just phoned. There's a job for me. Somebody choked somebody to death. Lots of excitement. Oh, who did it? They'll find him. She looks bad, your wife. We ought to get her right to bed. Yes. Elsa? No, I have no son. This is Sam Crawford, Elsa. He's going to take care of Stevie. And we're going to sleep in his house tonight. I think we need some sleep, don't you? That's him. What do you mean? That's him. He did it. He did what? He killed my son. Elsa. I'm Sammy Crawford, ma'am. I run the local. He killed us. He killed us. Elsa. Elsa. Look at me. Are you all right, Elsa? I don't think she knows what she's saying. He came over. He said there was a bottle. He said he was sorry. Elsa. Elsa, this is Sammy Crawford. He wasn't there. He was here miles away. He killed us. I'll get Doc Sadler. It's the matter with Elsa. I know he didn't do it. I was talking to him on the telephone when it happened from the gas station. Elsa, we know who did do it. We know. And he's dead. He said he was sorry. He said he was sorry. Elsa, look across the street. Elsa, do you hear me? Look across the street. Yes. Do you see that man walking toward the street light? Can you see him? Answer me. Yes. Just look at him, Elsa. That's all. There. Now he's under the light. Well? That's him. No. That's him. That's him. He did it. Elsa, that's a minister. He did it. You know it wasn't a minister. You saw it. It wasn't Sam Crawford. He was talking to me on the telephone. That's him. That's him. No. That's him. No, Elsa. That's him. No. No. No. No. No. No. Ben. No. Ben. No. Ben, darling. Hello, Stevie. Hi. Darling, what on there? It was a nightmare. Oh, Elsa. It was. It was. You mean you lost your job? Yes. Yes, that was it. How did you know? Because I know everything. Come on now. Up out of bed. We've got a big day. Father July comes, but once a year. Garage doors open, Stevie? Boy, well, we burn up the road. Stevie, stop that talk. Oh, I'm sorry. You know, instead of going up by Fallstown and up there, we'll cut across just before Kingston and find our fishing over around Litchfield, huh? I feel like Connecticut today. Okay, Dad. I got to go. What did you dream about, darling? It was so awful. Me? Well, since you have to know, I had a horrible, jealous dream. I dreamt you didn't love me. Oh, oh, dear. Well, that was the wildest dream imaginable. Now, wasn't that a waste of time? Suspense presented by Autolight, tonight's star, Gregory Peck, in Nightmare. Mr. Peck, the subject of our show and your character portrayal won't do highway safety any harm this Labor Day weekend. Today's newspapers carried some dreadful predictions of the accidents and deaths likely to happen. Yes, I saw them, and if I may, I'd like to add a few words of my own on this subject of safety. The mic is yours, Greg. Well, this evening, the Electric Autolight Company has been honored for its efforts on behalf of highway safety. You, too, can earn such an award. Of course, yours won't be quite the same. No bronze plaque or embossed certificates, and no one will pin any medals on you. Yours will be a greater, more personal reward. The deep-felt satisfaction that comes from knowing that you've taken care and not endangered your own life or the lives of others. So drive carefully, won't you? Today, tomorrow, always. Thank you. Yes, folks, drive carefully, and drive happily, too, by switching now to new white-gap Autolight resistor spark plugs. They're ignition engineered to work as a perfect team with your car's complete electrical system. So for a smoother engine idle and long spark plug life, just remember you're always right with Autolight. Next Thursday for Suspense, Ray Maland will be our star. The play is called Chicken Feed, and it's the story of a man whose life was worth, literally, a nickel. It is, as we say. A tale well-calculated to keep you in... Suspense. Tonight's Suspense play was produced and edited by William Speer and directed by Norman MacDonald. Appearing with Mr. Peck were Lerene Tuttle and Alan Reeve. Music for Suspense is composed by Lucian Morrowek and conducted by Lud Bluskin. Nightmare was a radio play by Herb Meadows from a story by Samuel Bloss. Gregory Peck is currently being seen in MGM's The Great Sinner. Don't forget, next Thursday, same time, Autolight will present Suspense, starring Ray Maland. Autolight resistor spark plugs, Autolight staple batteries, Autolight electrical parts at your neighborhood Autolight dealers. Drive right. Switch to Autolight. Good night. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.