 And now, tonight's presentation of Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrill's Suspense. Tonight, we bring you a story from your newspaper. It is based upon absolute fact. Only certain portions have been dramatized. We call it, The Greatest Thief in the World. So now, starring Mr. Ben Wright, here is tonight's suspense play, The Greatest Thief in the World. The files of criminal record office in Scotland Yard contain two bulky folders. One relating to the evidence against Peter Marriott. The other against a criminal known only as The Squire. Concerning Peter Marriott, we're in possession of a number of facts. Some we gain through our own investigation, others through interested parties. Concerning The Squire, we know a good deal less. That for some five years he committed dual thefts amounting to half a million pounds is common knowledge. That at no time until the end did we find one scrap of evidence is further stated in the file. The question that The Yard has not been able to satisfactorily answer is whether Peter Marriott and The Squire were one and the same. The case is a mathematical fantasy. For example, we know that Peter Marriott attended a shooting party in the West Riding. It's the guest of Sir Leslie and Lady Banbridge. We know the gist of what transpired but was The Squire present at that time. Don't shoot him, Marriott. Oh, thank you, sir. Best if I know how you do it. Every time I get a shot of them, those blinking particles seem to know it's me. Oh, it's just bad luck, sir. It'll get better. But they do, you know. They fly off screaming with laughter. It's old Banbridge. Come on, you chaps. Nothing to worry about. Oh, really, sir. Oh, well, perhaps tomorrow I'm for a drink. Why, though? Oh, by the way, be meaning to ask you ever since you've got here. It keeps me in my mind. Anything you win, London, about that The Squire chap? I don't think so, sir, not since his last haul. You've heard about him out here, too. Who doesn't hear about him? It's a disgrace. I can tell you I've written a letter for times. Parliament should do something. No, I understand Scott and Yards up a tree. Bunglers. Not like the old days. Catch the man and give him a horse, bring him in, send him to Dartmoor. That's what we'd have done. No, they say he's quite clever. Clever? Nonsense. Papers are making a hero of the blighter. The Squire. Impudence. Man's not a gentleman, he's just a blasted little jewel thief. Well, I don't imagine the Honorable Percy of Pindell considers him a little. Oh, yes, that was the last one, wasn't it? According to the paper, twenty thousand pounds. An emerald necklace and two diamond rings. Ah, Percy's a fool. Always told himself, too. A trial could have opened that safe of his. I'd like to see the Squire try his game with me. A different story, I can tell you. Well, I'm not on it, was I? By the way, did you tell me that you used to dabble in the diamond market? Oh, that was a few years ago, sir. Nothing much. This evening I must show you one or two nice little things I bought Lady Pamela neatly. I'd love to see them, sir. Two days after the shooting parties, a Leslie Banbridge reported that jewels amounting to the sum of eight thousand pounds had been stolen from his safe. It was the Squire's work. No prints, just the unmistakable methods that had tantalized us for five years. At that time, there was no more reason to suspect Peter Marriott than the other eighteen guests, all of whom had seen the jewels in question. We know now that there was a girl in Peter Marriott's life, a girl whom we felt to be a rather odd acquaintance for a man in his position. Hello, Ginny. Well, she was coming by last week. Oh, I'm sorry I was away. We'll brass knobs on. No, honestly. I brought you a present. Oh, you are a duck. Well, I missed you. Give me a kiss. Oh, you have missed me, haven't you? Where's the present? Here. Peter, oh, it's lovely. Thanks ever so. Is it real? Oh, absolutely. You couldn't find a better ruby anywhere. It doesn't look real. Well, you take my word for it. It is. Oh, how lovely. Oh, you shouldn't have. Must have cost a packet. Well, you're my girl, aren't you? Oh, Ginny, look, you see this parcel? I want you to keep it for me just for a little while. Oh, what is it? Oh, it's nothing important. You don't have to open it up. I wouldn't. Well, as a matter of fact, it's like the other parcel I gave you a few months ago. Oh, gone. Pictures. Right. Oh, you're getting trouble one of these days, you will. Anyway, I don't believe you. I bet those aren't pictures in there. Oh. What do you really do? I mean for a living. Well, I told you nothing very much. Dark exchange. I have some money. Why? I wondered. What made you wonder? Well, I think maybe you're a bit shady. Oh, I don't know. I thought... Is it? Well, what's so odd about it? Why don't you ever take me nowhere? Why do we always have to meet here, never go dancing or nothing? Well, Ginny, isn't it nice in here? No, it ain't. You were ashamed of me because I'm not a swear like you. Ginny, it isn't that. It's only that I want to be with you alone. Yes, I don't think. Well, what do you want me to say then? I don't know, but there's something funny about you. Oh? A man was here the other day. A man? Who? What do you mean? Oh, so there is something. Ginny, tell me about it. I was just asking about the gent who visited me last night. That was you, Peter. What did you say? I told him I wasn't the ever to gas and was strange, isn't it? Well, what did he look like? Look here, I don't like the way you're talking like a ruddy copper. I don't think I'm going to tell you anything. Well, I'm sorry, Ginny, but please, go on. No, I don't feel like it. Now, look, I've got to know. It's important. Dial 999. Ask the police. I think you'd better tell me. You eat me. What did he look like? Ginny? Well, you're right. Maybe a little thinner, black hair. Looks something like you. Well, how is he dressed? I don't know. All right, I suppose. Grey overcoat, bowler. He wasn't a copper, I don't think, if that's what's worrying you. He's too polite. Any name? No, said he was a friend of yours from abroad. Said when I saw you to say something about Canada. You know what he meant. It can't be. He's dead. It can't be. Immediately following the bandage robbery, the squire was inactive. We kept an eye out for the stolen jewels, but as in the past, there was no sign of them. However, we learned one interesting fact, that Peter Marriott had attended several parties given by victims of the squire. Although it was a very slight chance and quite possibly coincidental, we felt it advisable to assign a plain clothesman to watch him. On September 7th, 1949, the detective made his routine report. Followed suspect, Alliance T-Shot, Notting Hill Gate. He sat at a corner table, alone. Five minutes later, he was joined by another man. He was unable to hear the conversation. Peter Marriott? Hello? Sit down. I don't think I would have recognized you. You've had quite a job done on your face, haven't you? Yes. Well, rather like old times, eh? What happened? I thought you... Not now, my dear fellow. It's a long story. Don't worry. You'll hear about it. How long have you been in London? Ages. Nearly six years. Funny. You took so long getting in touch. Yes, isn't it? Well, you look prosperous, I must say. 30 o'clock. I suppose that girl told you I'd been inquiring. Yes. Well, I thought it best to make sure. One doesn't want to make mistakes, does one? Look here, will you get to the point? What do you want? Same, dear fellow, aren't you? All right. First, what about my name? Well, I thought you were dead. There's no harm there. You know I couldn't use my own name after I left Canada. My dear fellow Peter Marriott. There can't be two of us, you know. Why not? Because when I found out five years ago that you were calling yourself that, I had to change my name to something else. Well, now I think I want my own back. Well, you can have it. There must be more than a few Peter Marriott's in the world. Definitely, but we're special, you and I. Very special. Oh, good one. You see, I've been reading a lot about you. You're quite a tough racist, and you've got a lot of hot balls and all that. I've followed you very closely. You can be a great help to me, old man. Great help indeed. What's the game? And we can do business together. Just like old times. I don't think so. But I do. You and I and the squire. Well, the next month, well into October, Peter Marriott as a suspect became a dad. He led an exemplary life and we began to feel at once again we'd made a mistake. He attended several parties and no robbery attempts followed. However, it was two days after a ball given by a wealthy sportsman that our detective assigned to Marriott made his report. October 28th, suspect left his flat 5.30 p.m. and walked to a tube station, followed but lost him. Cannot be certain whether he made this move on purpose or not. Is that the house? Yes. Well, you're not going to drive up to it, are you? Well, look, I didn't ask you to come along, you know. Well, I suppose you know what you're doing. Now, you can stay here. But there are lights on in there. Servants' quarters. Well, what do I say if a bobby comes along? You see that switch under the dash? Oh, yeah? Flick it. Then step on the starter. The motor won't catch. You can say you're having motor trouble. All right. Did you get it? What she won't catch? The ignition you bloody fool. Oh! Did you get it? I think I went in for a cup of tea, do you? Of course I got it. You are listening to The Greatest Thief in the World, the night's presentation in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Grills. Suspense. Mr. Smith, no relation to the one you know, planned for a nest egg to start saving with the United States Savings Bonds, someday. He put off starting month after month, year after year. And you know what happened? All the money he didn't save wasn't there when he needed it. Don't you be like our Mr. Smith? Be like many smart Americans who purchase United States Savings Bonds regularly for a nest egg that is there. Now we bring back to our Hollywood soundstage, Mr. Ben Wright. Starring in tonight's production, The Greatest Thief in the World. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Once again the squire had struck. This time to the tune of 14,000 pounds in Oriental jewels. Once again the resources of Scotland Yard were unable to discover one shred of evidence. It was useless to bring Peter Marriott in for questioning because we had no proof of his complicity. There was nothing to do but intensify our surveillance and hope that a piece of the stolen jewelry would turn up or that one of our informers would uncover something. On November 26, 1949, Marriott drove down to Kent and the estate of Lord Simon Lettington. John. Hello. Just running over to Paddy Wood. Want to come? Yeah, love to. Hop in. Oh. Hmm, murderous. Too much for me last night. Take an aspirin. You'll need it for tonight. If I have one more hot but a drama, I'll die. Oh, not you, Peter. I say, Daddy was furious with me this morning. Oh, why? For behaving the way I did with you. Oh? He saw us kissing in the playroom. He said I had no right to lead you on that you were a very nice young man and deserved a better fate. His lordship is a discerning man. Peter. Hmm? What were you doing in the library this morning? Nothing. Why? I saw you looking at the safe just like a burglar. Very suspicious. Oh, all right. There's probably nothing in it anyway. Huh? Besides, no self-respecting cracksman would touch a thing like that. It's too easy to open. I bet the squire would. Ah, rank amateur. He learned everything from me. Do you want anything in the village? Oh, you might drop me at the pillar box. I have a couple of cards to post. Right. I'll meet you in half an hour outside the cinema. Our man followed Marriott when he left Lady Joan Lettington's car in Paddock Wood. Marriott posted two cards and strolled down the road to the Hotel Rackham. He entered there, went into the tavern. Our man remained outside. And what are you up to, sir? Oh, a double scotch. Double scotch? Yes, sir. They make a Johnny Walker, will you? A bit of pre-Christmas cheer, eh? I don't like this. Outside. See in the mirror? I think it's a man from the yard. I've noticed him hanging about. It won't do at all. What does it look like in the house? How the devil should I know? Give me time, can't you? You're a bit touchy, aren't you? My dear old boy, in this business, one can't get nervy. You ought to know that. You should have stayed in London. No, it's better this way. We can keep an eye on one another, eh? Oh, this will buck you up. Double scotch, sir. On November 30th, Marriott returned to London. We had an idea that he'd contacted someone in Rackham Hotel Tavern. Possibly the elusive stranger we knew to be meeting Marriott from time to time. In any event, we kept a man at Paddock Wood. No attempt was made during the next three weeks upon Lord Lettington's house, and we could do nothing but wait. On December 21st, it was noted that Peter Marriott visited Virginia Hibbert in Hammersmith at a late hour. They have no consideration for me. It all really wasn't a fine time and night to come calling. Well, I'm sorry, Jenny, but I had to talk to you. Oh, what's up? Would you please listen? Now, I may have to go away, and I may not be able to see you again. Ever? Ever. You're a good girl. Sometimes I haven't been kind, but I've always known that I could trust you. It hasn't just been making you serve you. I hope not. Jenny, that man who came to ask you about me. Has he got something to do with it? Yes. I knew him a long time ago. In Canada. Cool. We worked together. It was in a mining town. One night there was a game, a poker game. It ended in a fight. My face was badly slashed, and I shot a man. Oh, you love me. I ran away. The doctor did plastic surgery on my face. I changed my name, too. The bloke who came back? Is he the man you... No, no, no, no. The man I shot was a miner. The fellow who came back was the one I worked with. I thought he'd been killed in the fight. Now, you see why I was afraid when you told me about him. He knows about that man that I killed. Oh, dirty water. Blackmailing you, eh? Yes, Ginny. And I'm going to have to do something about it. The police are following me. You see, I can't let this go on. Now, look, there's some money in here, and I want you to take it. Oh, you don't have to do that. You've treated me all right. I don't want your money, and I don't want you to go away. No, no, no. Please, it's for you. There's a thousand pounds here. No. Take it and get out of London, Ginny. Go to a nice little town and get married. No, I want to be with you. Oh, take me with you. I could learn to be a lady honest. I'd try. You are. Dear Ginny. But don't go, Peter. Don't go, please. Oh, maybe I'll come back, and if I do, I'll look for you. Truly. Truly. Give us a kiss. On the morning of December 22nd, 1949, our file on Peter Marriott was still inconclusive. He was a strong suspect, but there was the other man whom we knew he had seen from time to time. There was now the possibility that he was the squire. We expected an attempt on Lord Leddington's house and kept our detective in Paddock Wood. At same night on the 22nd, Lord Leddington's safe was open. A large amount of currency, as well as jewelry, was stolen. The plain clothesman we'd left to guard the estate was later found unconscious in some bushes. You were an idiot to come back to the hotel. They'll be looking for you. Or for you? Eh, quite a haul. I like the paper best. Diamonds are pretty, but there are bloody nuisance to get rid of. You won't have to worry about that anymore. Huh? I'm fed up. Things were all right with me before you turned up. Think how much nicer it is for me. You've been such a help. I can do so much better business with you. It's finished. Oh, come on now. You'll feel better after a drink. We'll have to get away from here. At least you'll have to. I imagine half a Scotland yard'll be here soon. What about that detective? Oh, I put him out. He'll live. Not a very nice Christmas present, I'm afraid. I meant it, you know, about us. Oh, no, you didn't. Because you wouldn't like people to know, would you? It doesn't matter. Oh, but it does. What do they do to murderers in Canada? Hang them? Or that delightful American system, Melichricity? You're a fool. You think I spent these years getting where I have to allow you to come along and muck it up? You've had it too soft, Peter. You're spoiled. You're the one who's had it soft. I could talk, too. You know, I have an idea that you're threatening me. It's not very healthy, is it? No. I shouldn't try it, Peter. Whatever you're thinking. Turn around. Why? I don't want to shoot you in the back. Is that what you're going to do? Kill me? Turn around. We're in a hotel, you know. There's bound to be noise. I'll count to three. Don't do it, old boy. I have a gun, too. One. I was always a better shot than you. Remember? Two. Last chance. Put down your gun. Three. We found the body in the bedroom of the Hotel Rackham Paddock Wood Kent. A single shot had been fired through the head. The pistol lay on the floor. The jewels stolen from Lord Lettington's safe were on the dressing table. The currency was missing. However, there were one or two points still left unanswered. The gun was devoid of fingerprints. The deceased was not wearing gloves at the time his body was discovered. There was further the question of an open window and scuff marks on the sill. Scotland Yard still is not certain who went through that window. The real Peter Marriott? The imposter? Or the one known as the squire? Suspense. In which Mr. Ben Wright starred in tonight's true story of the greatest thief in the world. Next week, the story of a pet cat and the fear it carried with it. We call it the Black Death. That's next week on Suspense. Suspense is produced and directed by Anthony Ellis who wrote tonight's script. The music was composed by Rene Garagin and conducted by Wilbur Hatch. Featured in the cast were John Dotsworth, Joseph Kearns, Betty Harford, Ella Morgan, Edgar Barrier and Raymond Lawrence. You'll enjoy romance every Saturday in the daytime on the CBS Radio Network.