 Lux presents Hollywood. The Lux Radio Theatre brings you Frank Morgan in The Pied Piper with Roddy McDowell and Baxter and Ralph Morgan. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. At Christmas time, it's fitting and proper that we should bring you a story about children. This story is as timeless as children themselves, and as modern as Christmas 1942. It's called The Pied Piper, and it stars Frank Morgan with Roddy McDowell and Baxter and Ralph Morgan. A fine novel by Neddell Shute gave 20th Century Fox Studio the opportunity for this original screen drama. The heroic story of a man past fighting age who found another way to serve humanity. I'm sure you'll like Frank Morgan in the leading part. He's one of the most completely talented men I know. Besides starring with Mickey Rooney in pictures like the human comedy at Metro Golden Mayor Studios, Frank has a weekly radio program which adds a precious store of laughter to a busy world. You'll meet another side of him in The Pied Piper, a serious side. This week, Americans will be celebrating Christmas all the way from the Arctic to the tropics. We had a letter the other day from a lady in Fort Worth, Texas, who had our own idea for soldiers who may be dreaming of a white Christmas somewhere in the South Seas. She writes that two packages of luxe flakes with full directions for making snow out of them are on their way to a South Pacific island for some of our soldiers. She also sent some tinsel rope and red candles. Now there's a good deed. Of course it's a little too late for the rest of you to send luxe flakes snow to the South Pacific, but there's plenty of time to put it on your own Christmas tree. And as you do it, you might think of a cocky clad group way out there, perhaps with a different kind of tree, but the spirit is the same. Wherever two or three people of good will are gathered together. Now the curtain rises on Act 1 of The Pied Piper, starring Frank Morgan as Mr. Howard with Roddy McDowell as Ronnie and Anne Baxter as Nicole. This is the story of an English gentleman named Mr. Howard, who became the father of six children all in the course of a few days. This sounds a bit incredible, but it's even more incredible when you take into account the fact that Mr. Howard didn't even like children. It's not that I dislike children. I assure you I've never disliked children. It's simply that they make me feel uncomfortable. I have no manner with them, if you know what I mean. Well, children are too bright. It was in the summer of 1940 that I first met young Ronnie Kavanaugh and his sister Sheila. They were staying at the same inn that I was in France, a quiet little place at the foot of the Alps near Switzerland. I'd been fishing there for a few days. Rather fair luck, too. I remember I came back to the inn one evening at sundown with my catch. The children were reading in the lounge, and Madam Picard was there, as always, standing in back of the little hotel desk. They're here. They're here you are, madam. Two very fine trouts. One for me and one for you, for supper. You're what an accomplished man. Two of them. Look, children. Are they not beautiful? My father caught five today. Oh, did he? Probably fishing with worms. Oh, no, sir. He was fishing with an artificial fly. Yesterday he caught ten. Really? Is that so? Oh, but, Ronnie, your father is such a young man. Miss Garwood, you must be tired. Sit down, rest. I will take the fish to Emily in the kitchen. Well, thank you, madam. Good evening, Mr. Hart. Good evening. I've just been doing my lesson. Will you help me, Mr. Hart? Help you? Is that regarded as ethical? Sir? Oh, it's quite all right, Mr. Hart. Everybody knows she chiefs. Oh. You see, Mr. Hart, I have to name five states in the United States and the only one I can think of is Texas. Texas, eh? Yes. Well, let's see. Texas. And then there's California. That's right. California. And, uh, Virginia. Virginia cigarettes, you know. Virginia. And, uh, Virginia calories in Texas. Uh, Rochester. Rochester? Yes. Rochester's in the state. Really? Then may I ask what it is? Rochester's a city. It may very well be a city young man. I don't deny that. I only contend that it's also a state. A state somewhat north, a bit to the northeast of, uh, whether it's, uh, uh, the New England colony. But it's not, Mr. Howard. It's just a city and that's all. Yeah. A city in the state of New York. Did anyone ask you? No, sir. Then you'll be doing me a great favor by keeping your irresponsible conjectures to yourself. Yes, sir. Good evening. Good evening, Daddy. Good evening, Mr. Howard. Yeah, good evening. Hello, Dad. Hello, son. Anybody tried the wireless this evening? We ought to be able to get some English news if Berlin hasn't jammed it. Dad, is Rochester in the United States a city or a state? Rochester. Rochester's a city, of course. Why? Mr. Kavanaugh, have you any corroboration for that statement or is that simply your opinion? I'm afraid I don't quite understand, sir. Well, Mr. Howard told Sheila that Rochester's a state. Well, I must admit I've never heard the question raised before, but I really don't believe it is. And what would you say, sir, if I informed you that I myself have visited the state of Rochester? In that case, naturally, I'd be compelled to admit that you were right, sir. Listen, Dad, I hear planes. Listen. Yes. Quite a few, I imagine. They're German, Dad. They're Hankels. You can tell by the motor. Ronald? Ronald? Those planes again. Yes, dear. They're German, but I can tell. I heard them pass this afternoon and now they're coming back. Where could they have been, Ronald? I don't know. I can't understand. But the fighting is all up north in Belgium. Yes. Unless things are worse than we've heard. Is the wireless working? Is there any news, Mr.? There ought to be. It's just about time. Twice they pass to the very eye. Where are they going? I swear. Here we are. I've got it. This is the overseas service of the British broadcasting company, London Calling. It would be either to deny that Britain today faces a dark hour. The enemy continues to advance. More Channel ports, French as well as Belgium, are now under German occupation. In such circumstances, we must be prepared to face any eventuality, even invasion. In this hour of darkness, let Englishmen, wherever they may be, and whatever lands beyond the sea, hear again, by transcription, the words of the Prime Minister before the House of Commons this morning, and be of good heart. We shall defend our island, whatever ending grounds, in the fields, in streets, and on the hills, and even if, which I do not for one moment believe part of it, we're subjugated and starving. Ronald, turn it off. It is worse than we thought. Yes, but we are well not to be seen, eh? Mr. Howard, they will never fight this far south. We could, I doubt here, for years, and for you and me at our age, Mr. Howard, that is a very comforting thought. Are you finished? Yes, Mr. Then allow me to inform you, sir, that if ever again you address one word to me, I shall take the greatest of pleasure in thrashing you with an inch of your life, regardless of your age. Sure. Madam Picard, there's a train for Paris at nine o'clock, isn't there? Why, yes, Monsieur, but... I should be taking it. Please arrange with the station master for my reservation to London by way of Paris and San Marlon. But, Monsieur, you've only been here three days. Three days of which I am heartily ashamed. I'll pack my things at once. Mr. Howard? Yes. I hope you're not being hasty because of anything that man has said. I can assure you that no one here believes for one second that you're here for, well, for any but the best of reasons. No, I'm here because I'm a selfish and pig-headed old man. I offered my services to every department of the government in London, but I was not needed. I was too old. In all of London, I was taken seriously by but one man, my vicar. He suggested to me that I knit, knit for the soldiers. I'm afraid that I took some exception to his well-meant suggestion, but to run away like a sulky child was wrong, and I'm deeply ashamed of myself. That's not my point, sir. As you say yourself, you're not young. There is no other point. Young are old, and Englishmen's place at the time like this is in England. And if the trains are running, I shall be there in 18 hours to knit. An hour later, I was in my room still packing when Mrs. Kavanaugh asked to see me. She seemed quite strained and nervous. Mr. Howard, do you know what my husband does? No, I can't say that I do. He's an official of the League of Nations at Geneva. And in Geneva, they think that Switzerland is very likely to be invaded next. Do they really? That's where we're going tonight, back to Geneva. But is that very wise if there's danger there? Well, that's not what matters. It happens to be his post of duty. I see. But if Hitler does come, there won't be much food. There never is under him. A filthy little gutter snipe. Well, for myself, I'm not afraid. Nor my husband. The children were thinking of it. Oh, yes? Mr. Howard, would you take them with you back to England? Do what? It would only be to Plymouth. My sister would meet you there with a car. Oh, I know it's asking an awful question. Well, I know what you mean, that boy, too? Please, he didn't mean to be rude. He's really a very good child. And he'll behave, I promise you. Mrs. Kavanaugh, I... No, no, no, no. It's impossible. I'm sorry. But it's out of the question. Really, I couldn't. I simply couldn't. That night, I left for Paris with Ronnie Kavanaugh and his sister, Sheila. Yes, yes. And did he sleep on the train, were we? I expect so, yes. She won't. What's that? She won't sleep on the train. What do you mean? Why won't she? Because she always gets sick on the train. Sick, right on the floor. I don't either. You do. I don't. Now, please, let's not dispute the fact. Time will tell us who is correct, I'm afraid. The argument was settled an hour after we boarded the train. Sheila was quite sick. With the kind aid of a French lady on the train, I took care of Sheila as best I could. French lady had a child of her own and seemed to understand these things. Are you comfortable, Mopetique? We matter. She speaks French, yes? Madame, what seems to be the trouble with us? She's sick, monsieur. Yes, that I quite understand. I told you she'd be sick. Quiet, quiet! It is strange sickness, monsieur. But besides, she has fever. Fever? Maybe she has eaten something. Maybe she's been too hot in a draft. That is the way it is with children. Well, does she need a doctor? No. If she can rest a little while, keep warm. She will be all right soon. I see. Well, Ronnie, how are you? Oh, very good, sir. Thank you, sir. Yeah, I thought so. Where is the rose? Rose, come here. Oui, madame. Restis pour la petite fille. Monsieur, Rose will recite for your little girl. She will enjoy it. Thank you. How do you do, little Rose? Comment allez-vous, monsieur? Restis, Rose. Ma grande-tente de meurateur dans une maison avec un cerisier, avec une petite zuris. Cuis, cuis. I don't know, but I shall certainly find out. Now, don't move. I'll be right back. Just a moment, my good man. But, monsieur, I want to know when the next train leaves for Paris. To Paris? There is no more trains to Paris. Monsieur, not trains to the north at all. But I hold tickets. I report you to the management. Monsieur, do you not understand? The Germans have crossed the mar. The whole front is breaking. Maybe the trains will never run again. Never, but I have two small children. You raise, monsieur, that is undoubtedly magnificent. Look, if this is a contest, I have nine. Now, look here. Mr Howard, Mr Howard, quick. Ronnie, I told you to stay on the train. Listen, there's a bus outside to shot. Shot? Why shot? There's a train there to Saint-Malo. It's just to go at home. Well, then let's catch it by all means. Come along. Ronnie, this was a bit of luck, all right? I must say. This bus idea was very clever of you. Very clever indeed. Thank you, sir. I expected if you could break yourself of a certain insufferable pigheadedness, you'd be almost bearable. Are you comfortable, Sheila? Yes, sir. Comment allez-vous, monsieur? Well, well, well, well, little rose. So you caught the bus too, eh? Fine. And where's your mother, little rose? That wasn't her mother, sir. How? That was her aunt. Well, where's her aunt? Good heavens, did we leave her behind? Well, yes, sir. What is this? Uh, rose. Saint-Louise. Lipatine. What are you saying to her? I'm asking her for a piece of paper her aunt gave her. Well, ah, here it is, sir. There's something written on it. Yeah. Henri Tenoir. Dickens Hotel Russell Square, London. I don't understand. Who is this Henri Tenoir? That's Renzo Starbeck. He's a waiter. But of what possible interest could his address be... Oh, so that's it. I'm to burden myself with another child. But, Mr Howard, they hadn't any home. The Germans burnt it down. They didn't have anywhere to go at all, don't you see? Come one, come all, eh? But you wouldn't want them to be caught by the Germans. Would you, sir? That's not the point, sir. Rose can take care of Sheila, and I can take care of her. So you'll have no bother. Yes, it's all very neatly arranged, eh? Well, perhaps I have something to say on the subject. I do not propose to become the mecca of every unfortunate child in France. When we get the shot, I shall turn her over to the authorities and leave it to them to get her back to her aunt. Yes. The only intelligent way to deal with such situations. Yes, sir. Sheila, will you tell Rose what Mr Howard's going to do? All right. Well, in just a moment. Yes, sir. Eh, what's the name of that hotel? The Dickens Hotel, sir. I never heard of it in my life. Well, I imagine we'll be able to find it. Oh, Mr Howard. Thank you, sir. We were about 40 miles from Schatz when the bus stopped to repair a tire. It was a lovely day. There was a stream just off the road where we sat down to have our lunch under the trees. And then the planes came. German planes. They dropped out of the skies, swarmed down toward the road in the bus. It didn't seem possible that they were trying to kill us. Let's see if I can get our bags. And children, while I'm gone, I want you to promise me. Don't, won't, will you? Stay right here now. Three children into a deserted old barn to sleep. But then I noticed that there were no longer three children. There were four. Fourth was a boy with a pale, thin face. And the dull, glazed eyes of a child in fear. He couldn't seem to talk to you. He only repeated one phrase over and over. Miss Allmong, Miss Allmong, Miss Allmong. This child, is he with us now? Yes, sir. I brought him in, sir. Miss Allmong. He can't talk, Mr. Hart. That's all he says. Miss Allmong, the German. Who is he? His name is Pierre. How did you learn that? He told us. But he can't talk. No. May I speak to you privately, sir? Oh, yes, of course. He was in the bus, sir. Didn't you see him? Yes. The dead people, sir. They were his mother and father. I see. He can't speak. And I don't think he can hear either. I see. Here. Here, lad. Let me see you. Look up here. Miss Allmong, Miss Allmong. Yes, yes, my boy. We'll take care of you now. You have nothing to fear from now on, my boy. Yes, Ronnie. I can't sleep, sir. Oh, well, you must try. Yes, sir. Mr. Howard. Yes. I'm sorry I was rude the other night about Rochester. Oh, that's quite all right. It doesn't matter in the least. I was wrong, you know. No, no, not at all. I may very well have been wrong myself. So many of those American states. Kansas, Massachusetts, Massachusetts, whatever. What's the Indian state? Massachusetts. Massachusetts. That's it. Seemed very likely there might be another named Rochester. No reason why not, you know. Oh, none whatever, sir. I remember it very well now, sir. You do? Oh, yes, sir. A very important industrial state. Well, I'm not such an old funny-duddy after all, eh? I should say not, sir. My memory may have gone a bit ragged here and there, but when it comes to geography, you'll generally find I'm pretty good. Oh, I can see that, sir. Very decent of you to acknowledge it, too. Thank you, sir. Well, good night, my boy. Good night, sir. Pied Piper starring Frank Morgan with Roddy McDowell and Baxter and Ralph Morgan. But between the acts, Sally and I have a story for you. It's called, Where There's a Wolf, There's a Way, or Leave it to Luxe. It's a continued story because when you leave it to Luxe, to care for them, the sweaters and scars and socks and mittens, all the washable woolly you get for Christmas will continue to wear longer. And it's an escape story because with gentle Luxe care, you escape things that are particularly hard on woollen. There's no harmful alkali, no need for hot water, none of the cake soap rubbing that's so apt to shrink and harshen the soft woollen fibers. It's a story that needs to be told, too, these days when wool is so precious. You know how wonderful Luxe is for woollen, but it's a thoughtful idea to tuck a box of Luxe in with the woollies you give for Christmas. Your gifts will be better appreciated the longer they last. And they'll last longer. Wear better when you Luxe them. But, Sally, let's get right down to the facts of our story. How to wash a sweater. Chapter 1. Draw an outline of your sweater on a big sheet of paper. Then make rich, lukewarm Luxe studs and squeeze them gently through the sweater. Don't rub, don't ring or twist. Chapter 2. Rinse thoroughly and water the same lukewarm temperature. Then roll in a Turkish towel to take out excess moisture. Chapter 3. Unroll and pin it with rust-proof pins to the outline you made before you Luxe it. Then dry flat, away from heat. So there's our story. A story that really begins when you buy a big box of Luxe flakes and leave it to Luxe to care for your precious woollens. We pause now for station identification. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Two of the Pied Piper. Darring Frank Morgan as Mr. Howard, with Roddy McDowell as Ronnie and Anne Baxter as Nicole. Children to a happy land beyond the mountain. So our Piper, Mr. Howard, tried to lead them beyond the sea through security, through safety, through England. It took us three days to reach Schatt. I remembered then that I had a friend there, a young lady named Nicole Wujeron, whom I had met on a vacation in San Moritz. I decided I would appeal to her for help. Oh, Monsieur. You remember me, mademoiselle. But naturally, Monsieur. Come in, please, quickly. Yes, well, I bet I'm not alone. Come in on the little ones, too. Oh, thank you. Well, come in. Come in, children. Of course. Mamo. Mamo, you remember Monsieur Howard? Love you at San Moritz Howard. Madame, I am happy to speak. Oh, please. If you speak English, close the door. Come inside. If you speak English today, it's not safe. Not safe for any of us. I know, Madame, and I have no way... No, no, no, please. You must be careful. That is all. Our friends are still our friends, regardless. That is very kind of you, Madame. Monsieur, the children. You did not have them last year. Madame, some of them I did not have 24 hours ago. We are on our way to England. Allow me to introduce them. Madame Rougeron, mademoiselle Nicole Rougeron. This is Ronald, a fine lad. And this is his sister, Sheila. And this is Rose. And this is Pierre. And this is... Who is this? Uncle Namtenestermak in the South. What? Where did you come from? I've never seen this one in my life. Ronny! Yes, sir. When did he join us? Oh, he's been with us on an office since yesterday. I see. You mean, Monsieur, you do not know who he is? No, but on this trip, that doesn't seem to be necessary. Boy, where did you spring from? Come on, speak up. It can't be for stamina. That's Dutch. His name is Willem. Not Willem. Willem. Yes, how do you know that, Sheila? He told us. Now, listen to this, mademoiselle. Sheila, do you speak Dutch? Oh, no, sir. Do you understand Dutch? No, sir. But he told you? Yes, sir. Then in what language did he tell you? In no language. He just told us. Well, I suppose there must be some normal explanation for this system of communication. Very well, Willem. We'll do what we can for you. Of course, of course. The poor little ones. I wonder if they would like something to eat. Oh, yes, yes, yes. Of course they would. Just come with me. Yes, they understand that all right, too. I'm occasionally seized with the conviction that I'm convoying guinea pigs. But you are loud. You understand that you are in great danger here. I do. But I promise you I shan't involve you and your mother. In just a few minutes, when I've rested a bit, we'll be on our way. But I was hoping to see Colonel Boucheron also. We have not heard from our father for several months. At that time, he was at his regiment before next. Oh, yes. You have my sympathy, Mademoiselle. I understand. You see, you see, I, too, have suffered a loss. You remember my son, John? John? Oh, yes. I, I regret to inform you that he, he was killed. He was in the RAF, you know. Shot down over Helgeland two months ago. He gave a very decent account of himself, I understand, before they, before they got him. Sammy, he's dead. Excuse me, please. Mademoiselle Nicole was very kind. She helped us arrange for tickets on the train. When we left for shot, she even came along with us. May I ask now where we are bound? To the channel, Monsieur. The prisoner code. There is someone there that I know who might help. But was this necessary for you, this, this long, not very safe trip? Even if someone else could have done it in two of hours. I would not commit it. It is a thing that I must do myself, myself alone, nobody else. Mademoiselle, I appreciate this. Even if I don't understand it. It would be just a year going that much in summary. With a long year and a sad one. Yes. It's quite all hard to realize. Every now and then I feel that it's all a dream. Presently we'll all wake up. Perhaps John will walk in and we'll sit down and talk together again. I know. Took three to bring him down, you know. You remember him kindly, don't you? Yes. He let us, our last, our only visit together in Paris. You saw him in Paris? One. Just one for three days. That was just before the invasion. We had a beautiful three days. I had no idea of that. We told nobody. In time we would have, I suppose. We planned to anyway. Then he went back. And I waited to hear from him. It's funny. You wait and wait day after day. You wait for a letter. And then it comes. But it's not on him. It's on his card. So for a long time you do not open it. You sit and hold it in your hand. Wishing you'd never open it. Because you know that I read it from his card. From his friend. Time has but once in detail. And then at last you do open it. My dear child. And then after that your whole world is darker than it was before. Nicole's loss had been as great as mine. And I understood then why she had come with us. We went to a little town near the channel to the home of Nicole's uncle. With the children off to bed he listened to our stories smoking his pipe. Nodding quietly. What do you propose now Nicole? You have fishing boats uncle. You know young men, daring young men. Can you not find one who will take you to our world and the children across the channel? I'm quite prepared to pay you understand. And what is the price of a man's life? Uncle, there are little children. They must not be left here. Our country is no longer a place for children. Our country is no longer our country. You do not do, Nicole. You have not begun to learn what it is to live under the bush. How do I know I can trust you? How do I know this is not a trap? But I know I'm uncle. I know I'm very well. How do I know I can trust you? Why young? How do you know you can trust me? I don't even think of such things. Under the bush child that is what happens. As I have said before I have no wish to involve anyone else in my own personal problem. I shall of course leave the house. No, no, please. Let me sleep on it, monsieur. Perhaps tomorrow. Listen. Do you hear? It is a raid on Brest. It is the harbor. They're after the ships. Why those shields? No, no, monsieur. It is a British raid. Those are British planes. British? That is it. They're after Hitler. There was an approach in Brest today that he was there inspecting the invasion fleet. Well, after Mr. Schickel, brother. Well... What do you think? It's a raid, sir? I should say it is. Those are British planes, my boy. The RAF. I've got to go and get a look at this. Bye, George. Yes! Kill him again! Bang, bang! Bye, George. This is the greatest thing I've... Right when Nicole's uncle came to my room. I called the arrangements. His name is Volcail. It is boarded at the fishing village. Just thank you. Metaphone here. You and Nicole will meet him tomorrow in a cafe near the docks. Rocking, Mr. Rocking! Nicole! Ah! What the hell are you doing here? Mr. Howard, don't you understand French? What? It's all right. You have the boat. The boat. It is by the bottom of the lighthouse. You understand? Yes. From the outside of the cafe, you will see the lighthouse to the right. You understand? Yes. When do we start? Tonight. Now. The sooner, the better. Good evening. Good evening, Nicole. Good evening, Mr. Rocking. There is the lighthouse, Mr. Rocking. And there is the boat. Stop here. Okay. Here. This way. I suppose this is goodbye. Bon voyage, Mr. Rocking. My child, won't you come with us to England? No, Mr. Rocking. I am not English. I am French. And you have told me yourself that in times of trouble one should be in one's own country and do what one can to help. This is where I belong. Yes. But afterwards. Afterward, I shall come. Well, goodbye, my child. Goodbye, Mr. Rocking. After! I can see it in both. I can see the man. You are here, Lord. He is German. Soldiers. Soldiers. You are leaving, you say? You are English, yes? Well... I am English. This young lady is Nazi. She is French. You will come with me. All of you. But I tell you that... You will come with me. Soldiers. Ah! The boatman. You are English also? I am French. Oh, must the Papua shall both spike it. You will come this way. Soldiers. Haven't they? Well, it looks that way, lad. Up here. Oh, Morgan, we'll return in just a moment for Act 3 of the Pied Piper. Now, would you like to know how to make your own Christmas weather? Or at least your own homemade snowstorm? Well, let's look in at this window. Here, where we can see the Christmas tree. There is a pretty girl mixing something in a bowl. Now, we're ready. See? A big bowl of snow. Now you spread it along the branches. Like this. There. Doesn't that look lovely? Just as our tree had been out in a real snowstorm. Yes, you can have beautiful, real-looking snow for your tree. Snow that will last the whole holiday season made of pure white luck's flakes. It's a lot of fun to make. The whole family can help with it. And it's a grand idea for a Christmas Eve party. Here's how you make luck's snow. Pour a big box of luck's flakes into a large bowl or dish pan. Gradually add two cups of warm water and beat with an egg beater till it looks like rich whipped cream. Then dip your hands right in and spread the snow along the branches with your fingers. The luck's snow by itself is lovely, but of course you can add lights and ornaments if you wish. The snow is a fine background for their bright colors. We put some on the reeds in our windows, too. And when we got our tree, we got some extra branches. We thread them with luck's snow and put them in vases. Some in the dining room and some in front of a mirror in the hall. They make the whole house look so Christmassy. Remember to make luck's snow for your tree or table decorations. Use two cups of warm water to each large box of luck's flakes. Beat the mixture with an egg beater till it looks like thick whipped cream. Be sure to get the large box of luck's flakes. Your dealer has printed directions for making luck's snow. Now Mr. DeMille returns to the microphone. After the play, we'll give you a chapter of the true confessions of Frank Morgan. But now the curtain rises on the third act of the Pied Piper, starring Frank Morgan with Roddy McDowell and Baxter and Ralph Morgan. And of hope lay just across the channel. A few miles of water between refuge and despair. But Mr. Howard and the children were on the wrong side. They brought us to a house in the town, the headquarters of the Gestapo. The children and they called in Rokey and I. They took us before a major who sat smiling at us from behind his desk. Very touching, yes. A lovely group of children in my hair. I suppose you know that Charandon has been arrested. I have the fuggiest idea what you're talking about. Nor have you ever heard a major cotron, I suppose, of room 212 Army Intelligence in the War Office in London. No, your memory obviously needs questioning. So an English gentleman travelling across France with five children anxious only to get back home. A pretty and a most disarming device. It happens to be the truth. Who are these children? Where did you get them? Do English children belong to friends of mine? The others? He would insist on this absurd story. You asked for the truth, didn't you? Yes, and I forget it. You see, we know who sent the information to the English of the Fuhrer's visit to the Pied Piper Press. We know who caused that raid. You and Charandon. What we do not know and what you shall tell us is how that message was passed through to England. That is what you are going to tell us, Mr. Englishman. And as soon as it is told, the pain will stop. Not before. Take them away! I say one question, please. Did they get him? Get home! Hitler. Of course not! Oh, that's too bad. They took us out of the room and then they brought me alone to another room down the hall and left me. There was a man sitting there. I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, sir. No, I'm English too. Half at any rate. English? Well, what are you doing here? Waiting to be shot. Oh, you're Charandon. You've heard of me, eh? I'm supposed to be mixed up with you in some way, that raid on the ship. Too bad we didn't get the little beggar. But I'll bet we scared him out of his pants. You mean you were responsible for that, really? No, I tell. They caught me so there's no point in denying it. Only I wish they'd stop throwing innocent people in this room with me on the theory that they're going to convict themselves in some fashion. Really, I look for better things from you, Major Deason. More ingenious. Nothing as childlike as this. I say, are you feeling all right? No, quite. I'm assuming, of course, that there's a microphone in this room somewhere. Oh, they're listening to us right now. You're wasting your time, Major. This man knows nothing about my affairs, but I will tell you this. The English will be back here and the Americans too. And I warn you, they'll not be as gentle as they were after the last war. They'll deal with you this time as they would with Burmin. And as for you, if you kill this old man, I can assure you that you will be hanged publicly. And your body left a rot on the scaffold as a warning to your other murderers. That ought to hold him. You're a very rash young man. I'm in for it anyway. At least I can get a bit of satisfaction out of it. Major had evidently heard enough. A few minutes later, he sent for me again. We are throwing a little board with your friend Charandon. Really? If I were in your place, I would not dismiss what he says too lightly. Come here. If I were in your place, look out the window there. A very pleasant garden, isn't it? Very. That is where your friend Mr. Charandon is going to die in just a few minutes. Unless you decide to help him. I know nothing whatever of his work or how he went about it. And if I knew, I would not tell you. You would live, he would live if you are sensible. But I have nothing to tell. Look, they're bringing him out. You see? It is a very little thing that I ask. Tell me how he got the information out of France. And I will stop this execution. I have told you truthfully, I do not know. You haven't much time. Think about it again. Nobody would ever know. I promise you. Can't you understand? I know nothing. As you wish. Just a few seconds now. Are you going to tell me? Well, too late, I'm afraid. Kitty, come to the window. Wouldn't you like to see what you have done? Swine, foul, filthy swine. Sit down. You puzzle me really. If you are spy, you are at least a very clever one. What did you intend to do with these children? What? These children. What did you plan to do with them? I don't know, I hadn't thought. Send them to America, I suppose. America? That's why America. I have a married daughter who lives in a district called Long Island. She would have made a home for them until the war was over. Are you seriously asking me to believe that a woman in America would make a home in her own house for five little, dirty children that you have picked up? I am no longer interested in what you believe. Listen, I will confess to anything you wish, if only you'll let them go. And myself, too. If you'll do that, I'll confess to anything you say. It is impossible. I simply do not know what to make of you. I can only say that you must be a very brave man to make such an offer. No, no, not brave, just old. Who has not finished with me yet? The next day I saw him again, alone. I do not believe one word of your story about these children. Particularly about your plan to send them to America. I'll say anything you wish if you'll only let them go. What about the Jewish child? Jewish? The dark one. Is he Jewish? It didn't occur to me to ask. But in America, would they accept a Jewish child? I don't believe that they'd turn down any child, even a German. Even a German? Are you positive of that? Yes. Mr. Howard, how would you like to continue your trip to England? Not without the children. And mademoiselle? No, no, she wants to stay here. That is what we want, too. Friendly. But if I were to let you go to England with the children, would you be grateful enough to do me a small service? That would depend on what it was. There is a certain person to be taken to America. I do not want to advertise for journey. If you think for one second that I'd introduce a German agent into America, you're an even greater fool than I've considered you. Remain seated, please. He could hardly act as an agent since she was only five years old. Five? Listen carefully. This little girl is my niece. Her father, my younger brother, is dead. My mother, we learn later, was not wholly Aryan. So we were compelled to dispose of her. But the unfortunate problem of the child remains. Our Aryan, our Jewish. She happens to be a sweet child. And I would feel better if she were with my older brother in the United States. He is a medical citizen. She'd be safer, you mean. If you wish. His name is Rupert Deeson. He now has a business of grocery in a city named Rochester in New York State. His address? City? City of Rochester, New York. Are you positive? Of course I'm positive. What are you talking about? Aren't you the head of it? Yes, yes, of course. Certainly I've heard of it. His address is 603rd Street. And that is where I want her to go. Meanwhile, Mademoiselle may return to our home in shot. And no harm will come to her. Not unless you are foolish enough to tell anyone of this arrangement. Very well. I should be very glad to take the child and see that she's delivered to her uncle. What is your address in London? I shall send for you when we arrive there. 42 Curzon Street. Yours, I assume, will be a cell in the Tower of London. We were released that night, all of us. Roque had the boat ready and we stood lined up on the deck waiting for the little girl we were to take with us. She arrived with the Major, a tiny child carrying a doll in her arms. Oh, this must be Anna. How do you do, Anna? How do you do, Anna? I'm a fitness. Children, stop, stop it immediately. Major Wiesem, I'd not you better explain to Anna that from now on that salute would be out of place. Very well. Anna, from now on, you don't need to say anything more. You come to see the little girl and say... Get aboard! I want to see you get away! All of you, get aboard! Goodbye, Nicole. Goodbye. All of this I know you have done for my boy. And for him, I thank you. Some for him, some for you too. Once I thought there could never be another man as fine and as brave as your son. But I was wrong. And it was not all for you either. It was for the children. Some are, some are the representor of the future. You are the past, I am the present. They are the future. So we must take very good care of them. I haven't gone like this. Over where, my dear? You'll come to see me when it's all over and we'll talk about John. Oh, yes. One more thing, Mr. Englishman. There must be no trickery. If one word of this appears, it will be the concentration camp for your young lady. But remember that. And if anything happens to my young lady and I hear of it, this whole story will be in the papers and on the shortwave radio, mentioning you by name. And you remember that! You dare threaten me. You dare threaten me, didn't you? Go! Go! Ah, pfft. Au revoir. Good luck. Happy last. Au revoir, Nicole. Au revoir. Au revoir. Au revoir. Away children. I think you'd better all go below and see if you can't get some sleep. Do you have to take over our clothes tonight? No, you may sleep with them on tonight. Good night. Good night, my dear. Good night, little Anna. We're all friends now. Good enough, dear Howard. Well, it's a little matter, I think I ought to clear up with you. What's that, sir? You remember our little discussion regarding Rochester? Oh, yes, sir, but I told you. I know, but it seems that we were both wrong. Really, sir? Yes, I happened to be talking it over with a fellow the other night. A fellow knew all about it. It's not a state at all, it's a city. A city in New York State. Well, now, isn't that odd, sir, that we both should have made that same mistake? Ha, ha, ha. You're really a very extraordinary boy, Ronnie. I'm very fond of you. And, uh, I apologize to you. I reached the English coast the next morning, and in three weeks I'd seen them all off to America. That was over two years ago, but I hear from them quite often. Just yesterday I had six Christmas cards, six cards in round, childish hands, wishing me joy. And I wish them joy, too. For this Christmas, next, all the Christmases to come. For this is what we are all fighting for, and this is our prayer, that there shall be other Christmases. The children of every land, of every race and color and creed, may laugh and play and sing on Christmas morning, and say Merry Christmas to a brighter and a better world. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Who are you now? I'm a Christmas lady. Now, as we turn for a curtain call, here's a Christmas present we wish we could promise to the women in our audience. A way of getting all those Christmas dinner dishes clean without having to wash them. Well, that's a gift I'm afraid we'll have to leave for some future Santa Claus. But Lux Flakes can play Santa Claus for you by keeping your hands soft and smooth and pretty, in spite of extra dish washing. More than that, you can even make yourself a present of lovelier hands. If you'll change to Lux for dishes. Yes, if your hands are red and rough from strong soaps in the dish pan, you can bring them back to their natural loveliness simply by changing to Gentle Lux Flakes. That has been proved in actual laboratory tests, proved by scores of women whose hands have been reddened and roughened by strong dish washing soaps. When they changed to Gentle Lux, the redness began to disappear within a few days and soon the hands grew soft and smooth and lovely again. They used no creams or lotions on their hands. They just changed to Lux. Yes, it's as easy as that to change dish pan hands to soft, smooth Lux hands. So here's a note for your shopping list tomorrow. Get a big box of Lux Flakes for dishes. Now, here's Mr. DeMille with our stars. Now we welcome two members of the House of Morgan back to our stage. And with Frank and Ralph, come Roddy McDowell and Anne Baxter. House of Morgan, ACB. I wonder if my banker ever thought of that. You'd never suspect, CB, that Frank has a hidden solo. I'll bet he wants to play Hamlet. Oh, no. I had a very unfortunate experience with Hamlet. Don't tell me you're tight-ripped. No. We weren't doing well financially and one night the sheriff paid us a visit. He walked right on the stage during the grave digger scene and confiscated the shovel. What was your hidden solo, Mr. Morgan? He failed at his chosen career. I always remember him at Christmas time standing up there with his shining face, singing carols. He was a boy soprano in a church choir. How did you fail, Mr. Morgan? My voice changed. What about next week's play? There's good news about that, Anne. Because next week we'll present the screen hit, A Star is Born. And our stars will be Judy Garland, Walter Pigeon, and Adolf Mangio. A Star is Born is a drama of Hollywood. Of a girl who had the courage to fight for success and the courage to give it up. A great play and three great stars. That's really an inspiration, CB. They'll be great in that play. Good night. Good night. Good night. Good night. Don't forget to hang up your stockings. Before we say good night, I'd like to tell you my favorite Christmas story. It concerns a little boy named Pierre. And it happened in San Francisco some years ago. The pastor of a church in that city discovered one Christmas day that the figure of the Christ child was missing from a group depicting the nativity at Bethlehem. The pastor was leaving the church wondering what kind of vandal could have done such a thing when he was almost run over by the little boy Pierre, pulling a little red wagon. And in the wagon was the tiny figure of the Christ child. The pastor was amazed and spoke severely to the boy trying to explain the misdeed he had committed. The boy replied, but I prayed to the Lord for a red wagon and I promised him that if I got it, I'd give the Christ child the very first ride in it. So I'm keeping my promise. It's his birthday. Ladies and gentlemen, on this Christmas of 1942, the civilized nations of the world are fighting for many freedoms, among them the right of little boys like Pierre to worship as they choose. No matter where you may be, our sponsors, the makers of Luxe plates and Luxe toilet soap, join me in wishing you every happiness of the Christmas season. And we invite you to be with us again next Monday night when the Luxe Radio Theatre Walter Pigeon, Judy Garland, and Adolf Marchault in A Star is Born. This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good night to you from Hollywood. Did you know that when you roast a turkey or a chicken for Christmas dinner, you can help produce ammunition? Here's how it works. The manufacture of high explosive requires glycerin. Glycerin can be made from waste kitchen fats. You'll have some extra fats left over on Christmas, so send them off to war. Put all your waste fats in a clean, smooth-edged can and take them to your meat dealer regularly. Roddy McDowell and Anne Baxter appeared through the courtesy of 20th Century Fox Studio. Roddy McDowell will soon be seen in the picture My Friend Flicka and Anne Baxter in Crash Dive. Heard in the night's play were Mellie Ellis, George Sorrell, Eric Snowden, Leo Cleary, Norman Field, Hal Gerard, Alec Harford, Claudine Legique, Noreen Gamil, Meryl Rodin, Floret Zama, Maurice Tawson, Mary Raymond, Vernon Steele, and Barbara Jean Wong. Our music was directed by Louis Silvers, and this is your announcer, John M. Kennedy, reminding you to tune in next Monday night to hear Judy Garland, Walter Pigeon, and Adolf Mahjou in A Star is Born. This Christmas, give the greatest gift of all a chance to feel better. Give this...