 Remember a Hallmark card when you carry enough to send the very best. Records of Hallmark greeting cards bring you an exciting dramatization of an unforgettable story on the Hallmark Playhouse. The story was chosen from the world of fiction by one of the world's best known authors. Hallmark is proud to present the distinguished novelist Mr. James Hilton. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight on the Hallmark Playhouse we offer the first radio performance of a strange and fascinating story called Afterward by one of America's greatest writers, Edith Wharton. You know there are some stories that touch the heart, others that tickle the funny bone, but tonight's story touches the mind and your spine at the same time. Mrs. Wharton is probably best known for her novel Ethan Frome, but all her stories are marked for the great delicacy and sensitiveness, and this story tonight employs that same skill. Now stories about things that seem supernatural to us are usually taken with a grain of salt. You and I are much too well informed to believe in ghosts, aren't we? Though sometimes late at night, but don't let me influence you. Someone once said that the shortest ghost story in the world was a single sentence as follows. She reached for the matches and they were handed to her. Now wait a minute, Mr. Hilton, would you repeat that? Surely she reached for the matches and they were handed to her. Well, I don't see how you would get a ghost story much shorter than that. Well, there was quite a discussion in the New York paper on this question some time back, but if any of our listeners know of one shorter, I'd be very glad to hear from them. Anyhow, Mrs. Wharton's story, which we're doing tonight, is somewhat longer, but I do think it employs the same peculiar skill. Now before we begin, Frank Oz has a message from the people who bring you these stories. There are hallmark cards for every memorable occasion in your calendar, for birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. Yes, for every occasion that calls for remembrance, there is a hallmark card that says just what you want to say, the way you want to say it, and that identifying name on the back, Hallmark. Well, that says you cared enough to send the very best. And now, Edith Wharton's afterward on the Hallmark Playhouse. That Ling in Dorsetshire stood at the crossroads of the winds. There was almost always the wind around the towers and turrets and Tudor battlements of the Old English House. But Mary Boyne liked it. It belonged there. Like the ivy and new hedges, the wind around Ling was timeless, like Ling itself. And Mary Boyne, American and Midwesterner, loved it. I thought in the train, sitting beside my husband. This is what we had worked for so hard. And now, with the success of the Blue Star Mine, we place the meet-a-dream in. A place for Ned, where he could have solitude to write his book at last. Dorsetshire in Southwest England. Dorsetshire and Ling standing forever in New York. I have a certain Midwestern American fondness for electricity for one thing. Get to love them. That place is probably drafty, dark, damp, and, in all likelihood, very thoroughly haunted. You needn't laugh. Did your friend, Elita Stairt, tell you that when she rented it to you? I would never laugh in Dorsetshire without a ghost. But you won't know it until after it. You've seen the ghost. Of course, the use of seeing a ghost if you don't know it. I'm just telling you what Elita Stairt told me. You see the ghost and don't realize it. And then suddenly, long after it, you say to yourself, Life is too short for a ghost that can be enjoyed only in retrospect. Well, I'm a simple girl from home, Ned. Any ghost will do for me. Ah, that's the spirit. It's good to be in that old house. To sit in that thick October dust before the fireplace, with the downs outside the mullioned windows darkening to a deeper solitude. It was what we had wanted and it's scarcely dared hope for. Then, Ned, who had never worried or fretted, seemed so anxious these days and preoccupied. Some sort of invisible barrier had come between us here at Nain. Why here? And why now after all these years of no secrets between us? As well as I might, I tried to find out what was bothering Ned. Why? Why, nothing is bothering me, Mary. Nothing at all. Well, probably I'm just imagining things. No doubt about it. This moody house is just a place for imagining things. That's quite true. After all, it's supposed to be haunted. Call it that. Personally, I have no respect for a ghost who hasn't the gumption to let you know when you're seeing one, right down the spot. Oh, then you haven't seen it. Are you serious? Well, it's just that you've been so strange. Well, preoccupied because of my book. Under watching the blue dust move across the downs. And as I peered out, a dim figure shaped itself far down the path or under. But in the next moment, I saw that it was my husband walking slowly toward me and into the house. What's the matter, Mary? You look a bit shakey. Oh, it's really too absurd. See, Zeling Ghost, he doesn't know it until afterwards. Send me a letter all the way out. I can see that for myself, but what does it mean? It says that a man named Robert Elwell has brought suit against you over the blue star mine. You know about it? Naturally. Well, it says there was something wrong about the transaction. It would say so. But it's all right. Well, what does this man Elwell accuse you of? Oh, just a squabble of interest in the blue star. Well, why didn't I ever know about it? That's my business. That's my department. Well, doesn't the lawsuit worry you? I confess it did. You mean it's all over? The suit has been with you. That's why you've been so worried ever since we arrived here at Lange. But it's all over now. It's drawn. Oh, I just learned of it myself just now. Want to the letter? In this very brief, very gratifying note. And I'm so happy. I've been so pressed. I've been so much as old self as he was now. Gayer and happier than I'd ever known him. Ned worked on his book now, Rosalie and steadily. I attended to the house. Something wrong with the piping in the greenhouse. And I was puttering around there waiting for the engineer from town when I heard a step behind me. I turned expecting the expert. He smiled wistfully, candidly. Hey, beg your pardon, please. You're not the hot houseman? Who do you wish to see? I came to see Mr. Boyd. Oh, my husband's been seeing a lot of people this morning on appointment. Have you an appointment? I think he expects me. However, if there are others ahead of me... Just a moment, please. Ask if you've come a long way to see my husband. I've come a very long way. Oh, what a shame. It's all right. No, I don't think it is. My husband is free just at this particular time, I think. Now, why don't you go in and see him? Oh, that's very kind of you. He's in the library. Thank you. Go right through those land trees. Thank you. Thank you ever so much. The greenhouse made me hungry. We'll have lunch in now, please. Yes, madam. Will you call Mr. Boyd, please? He's in the library. No, ma'am, he isn't. Oh, then he's upstairs, I'm sure. Please, ma'am, Mr. Boyd is not upstairs. Not in his room. Are you sure? He's gone out. Gone out? Did he leave a message? No, ma'am, he went out with a gentleman. Oh, which gentleman? He's been with several today, you know. I couldn't say which. Don't you know who he was? I didn't let him in, ma'am. It was Agnes let him in. Well, then ask Agnes who the gentleman was and where they might have gone together. Hurry back, please. I'm rather hungry. Agnes didn't know who the gentleman was, either. Not that it mattered greatly. I would go to the post office in town to post some letters and have dinner with Ned when I came home. It was twilight when I returned to Ling. The sky was like blue steel and the wind of the downs was riding a spool of gallows. Without even buzzing to ask, certainly if Ned had returned, I made directly to the library and opened the door without knocking. I tracked to the open door, sent papers flying from the big desk. The library was empty. The thread of the unknown, the thread of the indistinct, the silence in that room and of the slowly billowing curtains at the open window. The air took shape in there, weaving and knitting, and the wind of the downs was riding a spool of gallows. Without even buzzing to ask, certainly if Ned had returned, I made directly to the library and opened the door without knocking. The door sent papers flying from the big desk. The library was empty. The cranny of my being. The dread of the unknown, the air took shape in there, weaving and lurking among the blue shadows. Something seemed to be in that room, something that's ratch and that new. Now it coils in that dread, intangible presence and through my... Fortan Suspenseful Tale elected for you by James Hilton on the Hallmark Playhouse. Before we start the second act of tonight's story, let's turn back in time a couple of hundred years to a small, dark workshop in Cremona in Italy. A friend is watching with interest while the practiced hands of Antonio Stradivari apply a coat of varnish to one of the violins he has just finished. It amazes me, Antonio, says the friend, you use the same tools, the same materials that other violin makers use, yet each instrument you produce is a masterpiece worth a dozen ordinary violins. Now almost all greeting cards are made with the same materials in very much the same way, but those you send with pride, those cards that are received with extra pleasure, they have been made with something more. Understanding, perhaps you'd call it, believe that anything so personal must have a little extra warmth and friendliness and sincerity. The people who make Hallmark cards know this. That's why Hallmark cards always seem to say just what you want to say, the way you want to say it. That's why Hallmark cards are received with so much pleasure. Why the friends you remember with Hallmark cards get an extra measure of joy when they turn the cards over, as you did, and see the name Hallmark, the name that says you cared enough to send the very best. Now James Hilton continues with the second act of the story he has chosen for tonight, Edith Wharton's Afterword. The downs at Linn had lost its soft and gentle melancholy. There were demons in that wind now. Mary Boyne, confronted with that eerily empty library and the billowing curtains and the rustle of papers from the desk, turned and flung herself at the bell court calling for Trimley, the butler. You rang, madam? Yes, Trimley. Tea, I think. Tea for me and Mr. Boyne. Yes, ma'am, but Mr. Boyne isn't in. Oh, he came in and left again? No, ma'am. He didn't come back. Not since he went out with that gentleman? Not since he went out with that gentleman. Oh, see here, Trimley, you've got to know who that gentleman was. I didn't let him in. Well, Agnes let him in. She ought to know. She told you, madam. He didn't give her his name. Did he give her his card? I could ask her. Oh, wait. Don't leave me, please. I'll look about in the desk here for her. Yes, ma'am. Papers, letters, all over the floor. It's a draft when I open the door and hold the bill. Yes, ma'am. Oh, here's something. Mr. Boyne was writing a letter, it seems, when he was interrupted. Let me see. My dear Parvis. Trimley, the gentleman's name wasn't Parvis by some chance. I really don't know, ma'am. Oh, my dear Parvis, I have just received your letter announcing Elba's death, and father is now no further risk of trouble. And that's all. And no help. Shall I get you tea, madam? Trimley, what did the gentleman look like? It was at some distance I saw him walking down the path of Mr. Boyne. How was he dressed? Well, you might say his hat was different. How different? It had an unusual wide brim. What? It was gray and soft-looking. Gray and soft-looking. Tell me, was he a young man? Very young, I should say. Madam Greenhouse. Madam. You say he'd come a long way to see Mr. Boyne. I told him to go in. They'd gone together. Trimley. Sent to the police. They went. The tapers came. They went. The whole machinery of official investigations swept the island of Britain. Ned was gone. The sunny English noon had swallowed him that day as completely as if he had gone out in some awful, somerian dark. I remember the last letter he had started. My dear Parvis. I have just received your letter announcing Elwood's death. Meaning? Parvis was a lawyer who could shed no light for the police on Ned's disappearance. Ned was gone. He'd been gone for two weeks. I knew that he'd never come back. Never in this world. I am, Mr. Boyne. My name is Parvis. Oh. I'm a lawyer. I know. I've had some correspondence with your husband. Yes, I know. He was writing you a letter which he never finished on a date. On a date? Oh, yes. Yes, I know. The police showed it to me. I thought that you might wish to do something about young Bob Elwell's family. Well, I don't think I'd quite follow you. No, about Bob Elwell, surely? Boyne had something to do with my husband and the Blue Star Mine. There was some talk of a lawsuit by him against Ned. You know nothing more? Well, what else should I know? Robert Elwell was the young man who put your husband onto the Blue Star scheme. Your husband got in ahead of Bob and took over, so to speak. Got into ahead of him. Took over. Bob Elwell wasn't smart enough. That's all. Survival of the fittest, I guess the scientists call it. Oh, that's jungle logic. Business is business. My husband would never... Do you accuse my husband of doing something dishonorable? Oh, no, no, no. Nothing crooked about it. It wasn't crooked. It wasn't straight. It was down the middle. Neither here nor there. No, I'd never call it crooked. Exactly. Not exactly. Oh, please don't misunderstand me, Mrs. Boyne. Mr. Elwell's lawyers didn't seem to share your cynical views of the matter. They withdrew the lawsuit. Oh, they didn't have a leg to stand on, technically. It was when they advised Elwell to withdraw his suit that Elwell got desperate. You see, he bowled the money he lost in the blue star. He was badly up a tree. And so I shot himself. Oh, no. When they told him, he didn't have a show. Shoot himself because of what? Because of that? Well, he didn't kill himself exactly. He lingered two months before he died. Oh, how awful. Everybody liked Bob Elwell. Now that he's left to widow and two young ones and an ailing mother, people have a strong sentiment that, well, since you're the main beneficiary of the blue star fortune now. Oh, I'll do what I can, of course. Here it is in the paper. Rather bluntly put, I call it, widow Boyne's victim peels for aid. Boyne's victim? How can they say that? It is blunt. Let me see that paper. Sometimes it's a necessity for journalistic brevity. Oh, be still a moment, please. Will you? Man, here. Robert Elwell, fine lad. This is the man who came from my husband. I spoke to him in the greenhouse. He went off with Zed. He... It's not impossible. It's not impossible. I tell you, he's the man. I know him. I spoke to him in the greenhouse. It can't be, Mrs. Boyne. Don't you understand? It can't be. Well, that man in that picture is Robert Elwell. Then it was Robert Elwell who came from my husband. Mrs. Boyne, on the days of that man, whoever he was, came to your husband. Robert Elwell was dead. Dead? Yes, Mrs. Boyne. My dear Parvis. I've just received your letter announcing Elwell's death. You see? My dear Parvis. Oh, see? I know what you think. You think I'm mad. But I'm not mad. Really. Now tell me carefully. Be very careful. When was it that Robert Elwell first tried to kill himself? When? It was... The 20th of October, was it not? Yes. Yes, it was. Yes, yes. And now? Now I know. That was the day we saw him for the first time. Elwell, you saw him twice? We saw him from a secret ledge on the roof. My husband saw him first. He was frightened and he ran down ahead of me. But there was no one in the lime grove. He had vanished. Elwell? He tried to come back then, but he wasn't dead yet. He had to go back. He had to wait two more months until he was really dead. Good Lord. He came back. And Ned went with him. I sent him in to Ned. I sent him up to this very room. I told him where to go. No, no, no. I told him. I told him. I told him. And now I know. Now I know. There's a legend about Lane, you know. You won't know you've seen the ghost until afterwards. Well, now I know. Does it make you wonder? If you have any question, Mark, in your mind, if you're not quite certain of everything, then fine. Our author, Mrs. Wharton, has certainly succeeded in just what she set out to do. Does this mean that Mrs. Wharton believed in ghosts? I haven't the slightest idea. But if I had to guess, I'd say no. I don't believe in ghosts either. At least, not particularly. So it's been gratifying to bring you afterward by Edith Wharton on tonight's Hallmark Playhouse and equally gratifying to have in it such fine performers as Lorraine Tuttle, who played Mary Boyle, and Joseph Kearns, Willard Waterman, Robert Bruce, and Eric Snowden. And now here is Frank Gott. In a moment, James Hilton will return to tell you a two-week story. In the meantime, I'd like to remind you that there's nothing like one of those colorful Hallmark dolls from the land of make-believe to make a child's eyes light up with joy. There are 16 dolls in all. Little Miss Muffet, Cinderella, Little Boy Blue, and 13 other childhood favorites. Each one wears a hat topped off by a jaunty plume that's a real feather. Each doll stands up by itself. And each one has a clever rhyme story about the doll inside. But that's not all, no, indeed. There's also a big, beautiful album to put them in. There are separate pockets in it for Mistress Mary, Peter Piper, Little Bo Peep, and all the rest. And on the cover is a picture of lovely little Luanna Patton, star of Walt Disney's Melody Time. The Hallmark dolls are as easy to send as any Hallmark greeting card, and cost only 25 cents each. And the big Hallmark doll collector's album, which you'd expect to cost at least $1, is also only 25 cents when you buy one or more of the Hallmark dolls. That means you can give some little friend of yours the album with three dolls in it to start a collection for only $1. Only all 16 of the charming and colorful Hallmark dolls and the beautiful new Hallmark doll collector's album tomorrow at the store where you buy your Hallmark greeting cards. Again, here is James Hilton. Next week, our story will be The Old Nest, written by the veteran author Rupert Hughes. It's, frankly, a sentimental tale about the relationship between parents and children. Well, I don't know how you feel about sentimental stories, but on this program, we have no rules except that a story shall have good entertainment value, so I hope you'll enjoy The Old Nest. And then the following week, a memorable tale of the times when America was young and beginning to feel her strength and anticipate her great future. It's the story of Grums along the Mohawk and is written by one of America's best historical novelists, Walter D. Edmonds. So plan to be with us on Thursday nights on the Hallmark Playhouse. And until next week, this is James Hilton saying, good night. Look for Hallmark cards that are sold only in stores that have been carefully selected to give you expert and friendly service. Remember Hallmark cards when you care enough to send the very best. Hallmark Playhouse, this is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System. This is KMBC, Kansas City, Missouri.