 Mutual presents the Mysterious Traveller, written, produced and directed by Bob Arthur and David Colgan. This is the Mysterious Traveller, inviting you to join me on another journey into the realm of the strange and the terrifying. I hope you will enjoy the trip, that it will thrill you a little and chill you a little. So settle back, get a good grip on your nerves and be comfortable, if you can. By the way, did you have a good vacation this summer? A nice quiet time, no unusual excitement, no unpleasant events that shook your nerves so that you jump when a strange hand knocks on your window at midnight or slow heavy footsteps come up to your door? That's good. Then you're in shape to go on another vacation with me tonight. It's the story I call... Vacation from life. The spot I have in mind for your vacation is a tiny harbor along the northern main coast. An isolated beach, reached only by boat from the nearest town two miles away. And so lonely there's only a single cottage, but it's going to be vacant soon. The present owner won't be needing it after tonight. My name is Matthew Clark. I am 40 years old and I teach Greek in New York City. I suppose you could say I'm a typical professor since I wear glasses, stoop a little, I'm absent-minded at times, and as my wife has said so many times in the ten years we've been married, I hardly know a screwdriver from a monkey wrench or how to replace a burned-out electric light bulb. A fumbler. That's her favorite word to describe me. Well, she's going to find out it's not true. She's... But I mustn't get excited. I won't be able to finish this if I don't keep calm. I'm writing this in our cottage on Desolation Beach in Maine. It's almost dark and the waves are pounding on the sand. The wind is rising. There's a real north-easter coming. But four days ago, when I came up here to open the cottage, the sun shone, the water sparkled, and except for the driftwood and seaweed along the beach, there wasn't a hint of the fierce storms that can lash this shore. I made sure that the cottage was in good shape, aired the rooms, and put away the stock of provisions that Thamson had brought from me from the village in his boat. And then while I waited for Seth to call for me, I walked along the beach, poking into the piles of driftwood like a boy searching for treasure. And I found it. I found something that set my heart to pounding and brought a flush of excitement to my face, something that roused my imagination to a feverish pitch. It was a mine. A naval mine torn loose from its mooring someplace in the Atlantic during the war and tossed ashore at last here at my feet. It was hidden under seaweed, a three-foot steel ball with 500 pounds of TNT inside it, waiting for an unconscious touch to set it off. When I saw it, I started back an alarm, and then in a flash, I knew. Knew what a treasure I'd found and what it was going to mean to me. I was gloating over it so that I didn't even hear Seth's boat arrive at my dock until he called to me. Sir, are you about ready to be headed for town? I turned to see Seth stepping down off my dock. I hurried toward him. Yes, Seth, I'm ready. I was just stretching my legs while I waited. Seeing you poking around that driftwood, I figured maybe you'd found something worthwhile. Seth, what I found was a very dead codfish, an extremely odorous one. Well, here's the boat. Professor, for Pete's sake, don't ever step right on the gondola of a boat when it's rocking. You'll either fall into the boat and break a leg or over the side, maybe drown. Yes, of course. You've told me that before, haven't you? Not more than 11 times. Yeah, I'll hop in first. Now, give me your hand. That's it. Now, jump down here beside me. Professor, look out! Ouch! Oh, Professor, when you lose your balance in the boat, don't ever grab the engine. It's usually hot. Let me see how bad you burned your hand. Well, it's not too bad. It was clumsy of me, though, wasn't it? Yeah, it was. The burn ain't bad. Just a little engine grease and fix it up. There. Now you sit down back there. Very well, Seth. Stay set down. Truth is, Professor, I don't trust you around machinery no more than I would a baby. My hand burned painfully, but I was too elated to notice. All the way back to the village, and then by train to New York, thoughts and plans raced through my mind. I formulated and discarded half a dozen schemes until the right one came to me. So simple, it would be impossible to go wrong. And then I fell asleep as peacefully as a child. In New York next morning, I hurried down to 10th Street to a tiny apartment six flights up and eagerly wrapped on the brass knocker. Matthew. Matthew, it's you. Yes, Ruth. I know you didn't expect me so early, but here I am. Oh, I didn't expect you so early, but I am glad to see you. Won't you come in? Thank you. I'll make you some coffee. Sit down and be comfortable. I'll only be a moment. As Ruth bustled around making coffee, I sat down and relaxed. The tiny apartment was soothing. There was an atmosphere of peace and quiet about it that delighted me, and Ruth herself delighted me even more. She was small, charmingly feminine. She was a teacher, too, of ancient history. We'd met during one of my summer lectures at the university and quickly found much in common. One of our favorite pastimes was to discuss the life of the ancient world. Perhaps the Punic War or the history of Greece, she from the standpoint of the historian, I from that of a student of the language and literature. Here, Matthew, drink this. It's hot and strong the way you like it. Thank you. Oh! Oh, look out! You almost dropped it. Why, Matthew, you've hurt your hand. What have you done to it? It's just a little burn, nothing to worry about. Matthew, you must take care of yourself. I'm going to fix that burn. Have some lotion right here and bandages. You just sit and drink your coffee while I take care of it. And tell me all about the cottage and the trip and everything. The touch of her fingers was amazingly soothing. And as she bandaged my hand, I told her of my trip, though I said nothing of the mind that I'd found on the beach. She listened to me as a woman should, with interest and depreciation. She made me forget my clumsiness, my awkwardness at conversation, my... I cannot deny it, my insignificance in the world. No wonder I loved her with a devotion that my friends would have thought impossible in poor, dull, dry, Matthew Clark, professor of Greek. It was with reluctance that I said goodbye when I'd finished my coffee. I know you have to go, Matthew, but sweet of you to drop in. You know that I'd come oftener if I could, Ruth. Of course, Matthew. I understand. Will I... Will I see you again before you take your vacation? Of course, my dear. I'll stop in day after tomorrow. And, uh, Ruth... Yes, Matthew? I hope to have some news for you then, some good news. Oh, Matthew, you mean...? Yes, my dear, I hope so. But for now, au revoir. How different it was when I reached my own apartment in Washington Square. Louise, my wife greeted me with a brisk contempt, which has been her attitude toward me almost from the first week that we were married. Is that you, Matthew? Yes. Oh, so you're home. Yes, I'm home. Safe and sound, my dear. Safe, but not completely sound, I see. That bandage on your hand, what did you do to yourself this time? Oh, I, uh, I burned myself slightly on the engine of Seth Thompson's boat. Well, you wouldn't be you if you didn't hurt yourself somehow. Who put the bandage on? I see it's fresh. A very nice young lady in the drugstore at the station fixed it. See, I, uh, I stopped by to buy some ointment. Never mind the details. Now, I suppose you want me to drop everything and fix some breakfast for you. Oh, no, my dear, no, I, uh, I had a cup of coffee at the drugstore. Well, thank goodness for that. Well, how's the cottage? I suppose it had been broken into and half all things stolen. Oh, no, it was in fine shape. One of the shutters was blown off, that was all. What about the electricity? I suppose you forgot to have it turned on. My dear, I attended that first thing. The place is ready and waiting for us. Well, I can hardly believe you haven't forgotten something. But I can't stand here talking. I have things to do. I suppose, uh, you'll want to rest. Yes, I would rather like a nap. I didn't sleep so very well on the train. Very well. I'll see you at dinner. There's, uh, something else I want to talk to you about. But it can wait. Something else she wanted to talk about. Well, there was something else that I wanted to talk about, too. I was sure it would do no good, but I had to mention it. I didn't see Louise again until dinner, and then she wasted no time and coming to the point. Matthew, I wanted to speak to you about your insurance. My insurance, darling? I said insurance, didn't I? Wish you wouldn't repeat my words after me like a parrot. Well, I'm sorry, Louise. It's just that I, uh, rather think I'm carrying all the insurance I can afford on a teacher's salary. On a teacher's salary? That's exactly the point. Now, I suppose something happens to you. What's to become of me? We certainly haven't been able to save anything. There is my life insurance. $5,000. A pittance in these times. No, Matthew, you must take out more insurance. With your ridiculous faculty for getting hurt, you might easily kill yourself at any time. Well, that's a rather callous thing to say, Louise. It's practical, that's all. Now, look at your burned hand. You might just as easily have fallen overboard and drowned as fallen against the engine. Louise, I'm not a child, which brings me to something that I want to say. Well, say it then. Louise, for some time I felt that you were dissatisfied with me as a husband. Indeed, and go on, Matthew. You seem to look upon me as a rather feeble, witted creature whom you must constantly admonish. I'm sure it can be no pleasure to you to be tied to such a man as you think me, Louise. What are you driving at, Matthew? Well, you have a very fine intelligence and great energy, and you deserve to be a free woman able to carve a better place for yourself in the world. Yes. You're a handsome woman. You could easily find a husband more worthy of you. Someone like that insurance agent, Court von Walther, for instance. And just why do you mention Court von Walther? Well, it's just as an example. He's obviously attracted to you, that's all. And so you think I should divorce you? Well, I can't help feeling that you'd be much happier if you did, Louise. Possibly I would be. But I know my duty. For me, Matthew, you would be quite lost. I'm sure you'd manage to kill yourself somehow within a year. I'm your wife, Matthew. And your wife, I shall remain until death, as they say, do us part. Until death do us part? Well, I had tried. I'd done my best to save her. Now I had to go ahead with my own plans. All I had to write to some happiness, too. I may be a professor of Greek, but I'm also a man, with a man's ability to love and hate. Yes, to love Ruth and to hate Louise. I hadn't even known how fiercely I hated her until after I met Ruth. And then hatred had welled up in me with the violence that had astonished me. Some men might put up with such a woman for a lifetime, but I'm not one of them. They are the weaklings of the world. Real men take what they want from life, and I was determined to be such a man. The next day I did as Louise insisted. I called upon Court von Walter, the blond, handsome refugee who has become so Americanized that he speaks better English than most Americans, and who sells life insurance to men by flirting with their wives. I don't like him. His easy self-assurance and blatant masculinity revolt me. But my business didn't take long. There you are, Mr. Clark. An accident insurance policy for $20,000. Payable to your so charming wife without a fuss of red tape. Yes, I think it's a waste of money, but Louise wanted it. Who can say what will happen in this uncertain existence, my friend? Up there in Maine, the fierce tides, the slippery rocks, the great storms. At any moment an accident may snatch a man's life from him. I suppose so, but I don't know why Louise looks upon me as such a child. She's just as apt to get hurt as I am. Very true. So why not a policy to ensure her life as well? Court, I'm just an underpaid professor. I can hardly throw money around for insurance as easily as all that. All the more reason you need it. If something happened to the lovely Mrs. Clark, if I say, the expenses would bankrupt you. I guess they would. So let me write a joint policy to cover both of you, but the premium will only be a little more. Well, all right. I suppose it is the practical thing to do when Louise always likes to be practical. Of course. When do you leave? Tomorrow evening from Grand Central Station. I'll give myself the pleasure of seeing you off. I may be able to help with a baggage. And for now I'll hood of war, my friend. So that was that. A fumbler, was I? Incompetent, unable to plan, born to fail in anything. Louise would see her life was ensured in my favor for $20,000 and Court von Walter would have to testify that he talked me into it. $20,000? What freedom that would give Ruth and me? We could travel, see Europe, Greece, visit the very spots where Socrates walked and Plato composed his immortal dialogues. But I can seal my jubilance lest Louise notice it and suspect something. I paid a brief visit to Ruth to say goodbye and to tell her something of the wonderful future ahead for us. Oh, Matthew. Matthew, I can hardly believe it. Greece, Rome, Venice, all the famous spots of the old world. It would be wonderful. Yes, we'll live life for a change, Ruth, instead of just reading about it in books. Then your wife, she has agreed to... Yes, she's going to divorce me. I'm not the man for her and we both know it. I think you're a fine man, Matthew. Thank you, my dear. But Louise looks at things differently. We'll be back soon and attend to everything then. Very soon, I promise you. Yes, very soon. Much sooner than anyone but myself could guess. That night, Louise and I left on the main express. True to his word, Court von Walters smirking and odious was on hand to see us off and Louise made a foolish fuss over him. Oh, you really shouldn't have come to the train with us, Court. It wasn't necessary. But of course not. It was a pleasure, dear lady. And the way you carried all our bags. Poor Matthew could never have carried half of them even if he hadn't burned his hand. On the other hand, I could never have learned Greek. Greek? Oh. Well, I hope you have a fine trip. Thank you. I shall be up there with myself next week. I'll drop in on you. We'll be looking for you, Court. We'll never forgive you if you fail us, will we, Matthew? Eh, what? Oh, never mind. Oh, dear, it's train time. Goodbye, Court. Goodbye, dear lady. Oh, Court, you shouldn't have done that. I'm not used to having my hand kissed. In that case, dear lady. Oh, oh, Court, you're a wicked man. Kiss me like that in front of my own husband. I couldn't have helped it. In that case, I forgive you. Goodbye. Goodbye. I shall be seeing you soon. Very soon. Yes, Court. Very soon. I pretended not to notice Louise's ridiculous flirting with Court von Walter, and we went to our drawing room. The trip passed quickly and exactly on schedule late in the afternoon of the next day. We were in Seth Thompson's boat approaching our cottage on Desolation Bay. There should be, Miss Clark. Cottage come through the winter at well. Yes, better than I expected, considering that Matthew closed it up last fall. Or the beach is filthy, though. Well, storms last winter piled up plenty of weeds and stuff. Oh, really? I expect you can burn it, though. Or speaking of burning, how's your hand, Professor? It's getting well, Seth. I'm still clumsy with it, but it's healing. Yeah, then burns can be bad business. I know the fellow three years ago burned his hand and died of it. Yes, sir. Locked your... At last. I'll tie her up and help you unload. Then you folks all set for your vacation. Only you're gonna have kind of nasty weather the next three days. Why is a storm coming up? Oh, goodness, the sky has gotten grey since we left the village. And the wind's kicking up. Look at them white caps out there. Yeah, we're in for real no Easter. I hope you folks ain't forgotten nothing, because I won't be able to make it here till the storm goes down. A nor'easter? That's most provoking. There'll be sure laying plenty of firewood. Yes. She'll be cold and damp till it's over. Well, I better be getting this stuff ashore after that storm's blown up faster than I figured. Just listen to that wind. We might at least have had a few nice days to begin our vacation. It is too bad, my dear. Well, you don't seem very concerned about it. If anything, you seem to be quite happy that we're going to have a storm. Oh, but I'm not. Oh. Now, let's see everything's put away. Matthew, why didn't you have the phone installed as I asked? The price of running a wire out this far was prohibitive, Louise. Oh, money, money. I'm so tired of not being able to do what I want, because it costs too much. Oh, well. Matthew, we need firewood. It's getting very cold, and all we have is that big log beside the fireplace. Yes, of course. I'll go pick up some on the beach. I'll be back in 10 minutes. I hurried out of the cottage. The wind howled, and the waves were pounding on the beach, sending white foam flying. I stowed along the hard, packed sand, exultant. Everything was working to help me. The storm, my burned hand. Everything was combining to aid me, as if I planned it so. A hundred feet from the house, I found the mine just as I'd left it, hidden beneath the seaweed. A three-foot globe of concentrated death, nestling among the driftwood of seaweed and dead fish, covered with barnacles, so innocent-looking, so deadly. Carefully, I lifted the seaweed. I'd placed on top of it and exposed the detonating horns, those deadly knobs of metal sticking up from the mine, and spelling death to any ship that touched them. Next, I found several pieces of wood nearby, sized for our fireplace, and pulled from the sand a length of rope, which once had anchored a fisherman's lobster pot, and now came the dangerous pot. I had to fasten several pieces of the firewood to the detonating horns of the mine, using the rope to tie them fast. With the wind blowing steadily stronger and the storm coming closer, I worked as delicately as a surgeon. A fumbler was I, not now. In five minutes, the job was done. The driftwood tied securely to the detonating horns, a soup of booby trap for anyone seeking firewood on that beach, a strong pull on one of the pieces tied to the mine, and afterwards, what evidence would there be? It would be tragic, of course, but really no one thought that Louise stumbled into a mine while walking on the beach. I'd mourn for a while, and then marry dear, sweet, adoring Ruth. I was finished. I put seaweed back to cover the mine, leaving the driftwood on top, where it would be easy to see and pick up. And then I hurried back to the cottage, and my heart was pounding in my chest for the noise like the thunder of the waves as I flung the door open and entered. Well, Matthew, where's the firewood? I'm sorry, Louise, it hurt my burned hand. I couldn't carry anything back. I might have known it. You can't even bring in firewood, you fumbler. I did gather some. I left it on top of a pile of seaweed down the beach, and now I have to go further. Now I suppose I have to go get it. Well, I'll help you, but I can't pick the sticks up alone. Oh, no, Matthew, you stay here and get the fire started. Maybe you can chop some splinters off that log, even if you can use only one hand. Of course. I'll have a fine fire going when you get back. I can handle the axe with one hand. You see? Matthew, you're acting rather oddly. Your face is flushed. I wonder if you could be getting a fever. I don't think so. If I were on top of everything else, I'd have to nurse you. I'm perfectly all right, Louise. And I'll have this log chopped by the time you get back. What have you done? The axe slipped. I've cut my leg. Help me to the chair. Can you take my arm? Here. I'll sit down. There. Now let's see. Oh, my Louise, look at all the blood. It's a deep cut, I can tell you. Oh, sit still, Matthew. I can't tell a thing with you squirming so. Oh, it's bleeding so. It'll spurts. Louise, do something. I'm very much afraid, Matthew, that you've cut an artery. An artery? Oh, no. I always knew something like this would happen someday. Louise, just don't just stand there. Do something. Put a tourniquet on my leg. No, Matthew. No? What do you mean? I mean that fate has obviously intended you to die and I don't propose to interfere. Louise, I don't understand you. What are you saying? Matthew, listen to me. I said the other day that I should be married to someone like Court Von Walther. You were perfectly right. I love Court and he loves me. He said so. Louise, you're joking. Now do something about my leg. I'm bleeding to death. Yes, Matthew, you are. But I was talking about Court Von Walther. If I were free, he'd marry me. I know he would. But not if I were penniless. He's European and they're practical about such things. For the love of heaven, Louise, put a tourniquet on my leg. I know it's hard for you to grasp, Matthew, but I'm not going to lift a hand to help you. But you've got to. You're my wife. I won't be for long. Soon I'll be your widow and I'll have a dowry of $25,000 to bring to Court. You're mad. You're mad. He's not really interested in you. You don't know what you're doing. I do. I'm being completely practical. When I urged you to take out that insurance, Matthew, I think I was hoping something like this would happen. Maybe I was even planning to make it happen. I'm not sure. But now it has happened with no help from me. I have a right to love and happiness with a real man and I'm taking it. Louise, Louise, please, please, please help me. Matthew, I'm going outside now. I'm going to watch the storm come up. I'll be gone at least half an hour. Then I'll bring back some firewood. If when I come back I find you beyond help, I'll be terribly shocked and distressed. But there won't be a thing I can do about it. Oh no, Louise, wait, wait. I have something to tell you. I'm not interested in anything you have to say now. It's important. You mustn't go out. You mustn't pick up any firewood. Goodbye, Matthew. Louise, come back, come back. That was just a half an hour ago. Louise is out there on the beach now, watching the waves pound on the sand and waiting, waiting, and I'm sitting here getting weaker, weaker. I tried to put a tonic in my leg, but it only slowed the bleeding. It didn't stop it. I never was good at first aid. I never was good at anything. Just a fumbler all my life. It's too late now to help me. In a few moments, Louise will start back. She'll pick up some firewood on the beach, probably the firewood that I left still cunning me placed because it would be convenient. She'll pull hard. The jar will set off the detonating mechanism of the mine. There. I just exposed them and broke the window of the cottage. My scheme worked. So I'm not such my last will in testament. The $25,000 from my insurance policies. I leave to the Handicraft Foundation for boys to be used in teaching boys how to do things with their hands. They'll be used in teaching first aid and the use of tools, especially every boy should know how to use an axe. This is the mysterious server again. So that cottage is empty now. There's really nothing wrong with it. Just a broken window and a few shingles torn loose by the explosion of that drifting mine that washed ashore down the beach. You could fix it easily. If you'd like to know where it is, I could... Oh, you'll have to get off here. I'm sorry. But I'm sure we'll meet again. I take this same train every week at this time. You've just heard The Mysterious Traveller, a series of dramas of the strange and terrifying. All the characters in today's story were entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead was purely coincidental. In the cast today were Maurice Toplund, Eric Dessler, Vicky Vola, Helen Titus, and Stefan Snavel. Original music was played by Paul Taubman. The Mysterious Traveller is written, produced and directed by Bob Arthur and David Cogan. Listen next week to a tale titled The Big Pay Off, another strange and shivery tale of The Mysterious Traveller. The Mysterious Traveller has come to Yupamar New York Studios. This is Carl Caruso speaking. This is the mutual broadcasting system.