 Autolight and its 96,000 dealers present. Suspense. Tonight, Autolight brings you Mr. Charles Boye in the case of Henri Vibar, a suspense play produced and edited by William Spear. Mr. Wilcox, Philbert's taking me to the junior prom tonight. Isn't that exciting? Why, Dora, my tempestuous teenage neighbor. It's almost as exciting as that exemplary exponent of extra-starting dependability. The Autolight stay full battery. The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use. Gee whiz, Mr. Wilcox. I want to talk about the dance. So do I, Dora. The dance of delight you devotees of driving will do when you find out how much more you get with an Autolight stay full battery. You see, tests show this famous battery gives 70% longer average life than batteries without stay full features. And those tests were based on SAE life cycle standards. Philbert's kept every dance in reserve. Reserve? That reminds me, Dora. The Autolight stay full battery has three times as much liquid reserve as batteries without the stay full features. That's why it needs water only three times a year in normal car use. Mr. Wilcox, you ought to see. So friends, see your neighborhood Autolight battery dealer tomorrow. Remember, you're always right with Autolight. And now, with the case of Henri Vibar and the performance of Charles Boyer, Autolight hopes once again to keep you in suspense. I watched the taxi cab enter the gate and rolled slowly up the driveway toward the entrance. Gladstone Memorial Rest Home is a big, busy place. Dozens of cars come and go every day, and yet somehow this cab caught my attention and held it. It seemed to fascinate me. As it approached, yes, I got a definite feeling of manners from it. These warnings, these premonitions, they come to me whenever I'm in danger. Danger? What danger? The cab stopped just below my window, and a man got out. Surgeon Jack Freeman of the London Bureau of Missing Persons. He came here often, checking on you arrivals. Nothing to fear from Freeman. He's just a big, good natured moron. But now he was assisting a woman from the cab. The sight of her made something snap inside my head. The woman was Mary, my wife. Mary, the sudden sight of her made me furious. I would have enjoyed striking her date then and there. But how was it possible? Mary, free? Walking around like a decent woman? She'd been convicted of murder, sentenced to life in prison. Was it possible she was out on parole? No, I think this justice is harsh with killers. And Mary's crime had been called blood and murder. Suddenly I understood. Mary was being brought here to Gladstone Arrest Home to identify me. Such simple people. Trap and reviver? It was amusing. I might have a few unpleasant moments, but that would be all. I would make a fool of her. I'd always made a fool of her. Very meant by the window for some time. Planning just what to say and how to act. After a while, there was a knock on the door. Or this would be Dr. Samson, the chap who runs this place. Nice fellow, Samson. Not too smart. Come in. Good afternoon, Monsieur Leclerc. Oh, Dr. Samson, come in. You have a visitor. Sergeant Freeman again. He'd like another chat with you in my office. Oh, Freeman, the bloodhound. Tell me truly, Doctor, does he ever find any of the people he looks for? Oh, indeed he does. Hundreds of them every year. Well, he has failed utterly in my case. With you, Monsieur, he has a good excuse. Most victims of amnesia have people searching for them. Friends or relations who can identify them. I'm beginning to think you'll just have to recover your own memory. Recover my memory? I wish I could forget. A few minutes later, I was sitting across the desk from Sergeant Freeman. I had the upper hand, of course, because I knew what was coming. I was usually was humble, apologetic, and yet, for the first time since I'd known him, I got a definite feeling that he was deliberately trying to trap me. That means some trifling mistake. Yes, I have an instinct that warns me. Just a few more questions, Monsieur Leclerc. Well, as many as you like, Sergeant. You're looking very well. Oh, thank you, sir. Now, think hard, sir. Does the name Vibar mean anything to you? Only Vibar? Vibar? Vibar. No, no, I can't say it does. How about Falmouth? Ever spent a summer at Falmouth down in Cornwall? Never heard of the place, Sergeant. Very well. How about the name Willard, an American, retired sea captain, sickly old fellow in a wheelchair? Oh, tell me more about him, Sergeant. Well, sir, unless we're wrong again, you married his daughter. Oh, a wife and a father-in-law. You're very generous, Sergeant. Did you bring them along? Captain Willard was an infallid. He committed suicide. Felt he stood in the way of his daughter's happiness. Left a bit of money, though, about 10,000 pounds. I could hardly keep from laughing at Freeman. He went on telling how Mary and her father came to England on a visit. How I met her at Falmouth. How her father objected to our romance. Freeman had most of the facts straight, except that Captain Willard did not commit suicide. Oh, I arranged that little matter. It was quite easy. He suffered from a bad heart condition, took strengthening for it, so I managed to contrive an overdose for him. I put it in his pot of tea. I had a bit of tea, I imagined, but then he liked it strong. When Mary and I returned from the beach, he was dead. But he didn't leave 10,000 pounds, more like 5,000. Freeman went on with his stories. Well, completely wrong. You and Mary Willard were married. Settled up Captain Willard's estate, which is practically all cash, then went up to London to live. Now, Monsieur Leclerc, does none of that strike a familiar note? Well, you seem to think it should. Why, Sergeant Freeman? Because you've been identified from those pictures we took of you when you first came here. Really? Who? Oh, the woman, of course. Yes, sir. Mrs. Vibar says you are her husband. Well, she probably discovered that I have money and... How? How could she possibly know that? Well, you could have told her, Sergeant Freeman. Innocently, of course. It's no secret. Oh, I don't mind, but it makes me a perfect target for designing women. One moment, Monsieur Leclerc. Let's talk about your money for a while. Doesn't this strike you as strange that a man could walk into this rest home as you did three years ago carrying $200,000 in American money? Well, of course. It's strange. Suppose. Suppose you had committed a crime. Wouldn't it have been a perfect way to allude the police? Yes, but if I were a criminal, you would have my fingerprints. You said so yourself three years ago. Remember? You came here carrying nothing but money. No extra clothing, no papers, nothing by which you could be identified. Now, Sergeant, what sort of crime are we discussing? Murder? It would have to be murder. You detectives. And who did I kill? Well, to be honest about it, we don't know. Oh, just, uh, anyone. To be this woman's husband, I must have murdered somebody. Well, that makes her very attractive, I'm sure. Tell me, did she help me with a job? She was tried for the murder, convicted, and sentenced to spend the rest of her life in prison. Would you, uh, care to hear about it? Well, not particularly, but it's part of your job and we've rather taken over Dr. Samson's office. Oh, that's quite all right. I find this very interesting. Well, it's not interesting to me because Freeman had the story all wrong. He just knew Mary's side of it, and there was so much she didn't know. We buried the old man, got married, collected the old man's insurance, and went up to London to live. It was very nice for a few months, but the money didn't last long. Very soon, I was broke. Nasty feeling, being broke. It's been nervous, uncertain of myself. Fortunately, just as things were getting really bad, I met an American friend. A chap I had met in New York a few years before named, uh, Nick Blackburn. He had a lot of American bonds, hot bonds, he called them, but he didn't know how to dispose of them. It was a simple matter for me with my connections on the continent. Blackburn stipulated one thing. He wanted to be paid in American dollars. That delayed matters for a few days, and finally, when I received the money, I decided not to share it with Blackburn. So, instead of keeping my appointment with him, I went to my hotel, sent Mary out on a fool's errand, and packed my grapes for a quick disappearance. I'm very clever at quick disappearances. I was all packed, ready to leave, when it was a knock on the door. That startled me. That Blackburn didn't know where he was living, and Mary couldn't get home for an hour. Who could it be? Again the knock. My nerves stetted down. They never failed me in a tight spot. Hello? What is it? Mr. Randall, Scotland Yard. Well, what do you want? Some information, that's all, sir. Did you attend the Palladium last night with a man named Nate Blackburn? Well, yes. Yes, I did. What about it? We're trying to find Mr. Blackburn. Do you have his address? I'm trying to catch a train. I know very little about Nate Blackburn, except that he's a thoroughly respectable businessman. You've been misled, Mr. Vibar. Nate Blackburn's a bad one. Did he talk to you about bonds? Bonds? What sort of bonds? Stolen bonds, Mr. Vibar. They're part of an American post office robbery during which two policemen were killed. Only today we traced the bonds to Nate Blackburn. But he seems to have disappeared. This is too silly. Please, clear out. See me some other day. Too bad, sir. I can't. We must get Nate Blackburn's address. Suppose I say I don't know it. I can't accept that, Mr. Vibar. Perhaps you better come along with me to the yard. One moment, please. Blackburn did give me his address. Well, if I remember it and give it to you, will you go away and stop bothering me? Mr. Vibar, I ask you a simple question. All I want is an honest answer. All right. I'll give it to you. Blackburn lives at the Afterno Hotel, suite 618. You dirty rotten scurvy rat! No, no, no. I mean it. He's probably there right now. I'll get him on the telephone. Of course he's there. Waiting for you to show up with our money. Where is it? Where became of your English accent? Come up with that dough and quit. Well, I don't have it. I put the money into me. I've been tailing you all day. I saw you sell the stuff an hour ago. Come on, Vibar. I want the money. That gun doesn't frighten me. You and dare kill me. No, but I can put a couple of slugs in your legs. How about that? Want to be a cripple the rest of your life? No, no, wait. Wait! I intended to deliver the money to Nate personally, but since he doesn't trust me, now please, put that gun away. There, that's better. I have an aversion to fire. Where's the money? There. In that grave on the table. A small one. Good. Old bills. Not in sequence. Can't see any marks. Drop that money. Hey, what's that thing? A gun? Put that money on the table. Let's see that gadget. Stand still. Don't move. Don't tell me it shoots real bullets. Stop. Stay where you are. Stay away from me. Give me that thing. Stop, I said. I'll shoot. Come on. Hand it over. No, no. You jack. You silly. He fell dead right at my feet. Auto light is bringing you Charles Boyegg in the case of Henri Vibar, tonight's production in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. Suspense. Hey, Dora, what's matter? You look blue. Philbert just called. His car wouldn't start because the battery's dry, and now he can't go to the dance. Dry your eyes, my pretty neighbor. I'll lend Philbert my car. Oh, gee, thanks, Mr. Wilcox. You're wonderful. No, not half as wonderful as the Auto Light Stay Full Battery. The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use. If Philbert knew that, he wouldn't be stuck. Oh, now, don't be hard on poor Philbert. He just hasn't heard that the Auto Light Stay Full Battery has a fiberglass retaining mat protecting every positive plate to keep the power producing material in place for longer battery life. While in recent tests, based on SAE life cycle standards, Auto Light Stay Full Batteries gave 70% longer average life than batteries without Stay Full Features. I can hardly wait to get started. Well, you don't have to wait to get started with an Auto Light Stay Full Battery. It's a demon for starting stamina and needs water only three times a year in normal car use. I'll tell Philbert to remember. It's always right with Auto Light. And now, Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood Soundstage our star, Charles Boyer, in the case of Henri Vibar. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. It's a terrible thing to kill a man like that to see him go limp and pitch forward on his pace. Just the memory of it made me sick. It made my feelings because Sergeant Freeman stopped whatever he was saying. Anything wrong, sir? Oh, follow me, Sergeant Freeman. My mind strayed for a moment from what you were saying. But you look ill, Monsieur. What? Are you sure you feel all right? I'm quite all right, Dr. Samson. Sergeant Freeman, please continue with your story. I found it quite interesting. Oh, thank you, sir. Well, when Madame Vibar returned, her husband had a fantastic story to tell her. Only a woman in love could have believed such a story. Sick tale. There you have an example of Sergeant Freeman's intelligence. Fantastic. It was a masterpiece. Her above anything his meager brain could understand. I think I told you how my mind works best in a crisis. Well, it worked now like a well-hauled machine. Had nothing to fear from the police, I could explain this dead man as a, well, thief or a burglar. But what about Nate Blackburn? After this, he'd never stop looking for me. It is a killer. Human life means nothing to him. Oh, no, I'd have to disappear. Make it absolutely convincing. Well, I couldn't just that. No one, not even my adoring wife, would ever hear of me again. I would dissolve into thin air. And take $200,000 with me. The sight of the dead man sickened me. So I dragged him into the bedroom and closed the door. Then I sat down and planned out every detail of the wonderful scheme. Of course, I wiped my fingerprints from the little gun I had used and left it on the table where my wife would be sure to handle it. Funny thing. Nate and I had talked about fingerprints. He had bragged that none of his men had ever been fingerprinted, neither had I. Maybe that's what gave me the inspiration. By the time Mary came home, I had every detail of my plan. Hello, dear. Your man didn't show up, maybe. Henry, what's the matter? Mary, I'm in trouble. Trouble, dear? What? I killed a man. Henry, don't fool about such things. I'm not fooling Mary. Look, here. No, don't go in. Who is it? How did it happen? Good girl. I was afraid you'd go to peace. Never mind me. What about you? Well, I'm in for it, I guess. No, it couldn't have been your fault. You wouldn't hurt anyone, please. Henry, how did it happen? Well, this man in there, he gave me some bounce, asked me to sell them for him. I lost him. Don't ask me how. Some thief must have picked my pocket. Anyway, this man came up here today and demanded the bounce or the money for them. I tried to explain to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. He got rough, and I, well, I managed to get that little gun of yours. We struggled for it. It went off and... No. But it was self-dependent. Oh, what English jury would believe that. The man did give me the bounce before witnesses who would believe I didn't sell them and keep the money and then kill that man to keep him from talking. We've got to be practical, Mary. Did you call the police? No. No. I waited for you. Why, Henry, why? Because there is a possible way out if you'll stand by me. Stand by you? What? I'll do anything you say. Mary, it will take nerve if you weaken. Henry, you're my husband. I love you. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it. Mary, if all life's problems were as simple as women, I told her my plan. The dead men looked like me in a general way, my size, black hair, eye glasses, and after he dropped 20 floors through the street, he wouldn't have any features. Mary would simply hurry downstairs, perhaps a bit hysterical, which wouldn't be difficult in the circumstances, identify my broken body, and allow herself to be consoled. It could be suicide or an accident, whichever suited her. Unless she forgot. She forgot about the bullet in the men's body. Yes, the bullet that would convict her of killing her own husband. My plan was a great inspiration, but it had one terrifying angle. To make identification complete, I had to change clothes with a dead man. That was a fearful ordeal, nightmare, but it had to be done. It was almost too much for me, but I think I told you I'm equal to anything if I put my mind to it. But I take to my grave the horrible memory of dragging that body to the bedroom window and pushing it through. I walked down the back stairs, 20 flights of them. I saw a crowd in the street around the body. I took a bus the first one I saw. I changed to another and another, destroying everything that might identify me, but keeping a little bag fit with money. It's quite a coincidence, Monsieur Leclerc. What? What? I didn't get that. I say it's quite a coincidence that you came to this rest home the day following the murder of Henri Vibard. Well, very well. Make the most of it. Dr. Sampson, do you consider that coincidence? I had to come here sometime. Yes, Sergeant Freeman. Since he's here, we had to come sometime. Well, apparently you've brought this woman with you. Bring her in. Let's get through with his force. Thank you. Thank you. Perhaps that would be best. Madame Vibard, will you come in, please? A moment. And I wasn't even excited. I'm like that. Little things may bother me, big things, really important things, and my nerves are like steam. Mary walked into the room. I looked at her without a flicker of an eye. She was a changed girl. Now, so different from the girl I married. Prison does that, I suppose. She was looking at me. Our eyes met and held. For a moment, there seemed a shadow of doubt in her face. Then she took a step toward me. Hello, Henry. Now, young woman, please. Don't try to involve me in your troubles. A plenty of my own. Henry, it won't do. You can't get away with it. Now, Dr. Sampson, this woman is either a crooked or crazy. Let's take this calmly. Madame Vibard, you're positive this man is your husband? Oh, yes. This is Henry Vibard. He pronounces it, Henri. Never mind the pronunciation. Is he the man? Yes, sir. He's changed a little. It's only three years. He looks older. His hair has turned gray and he isn't wearing his glasses, but he's the same man. Glasses? One moment, please. I never wore glasses in my life. My vision is perfect. Sir Leclerc, that is your name. Suppose you try to read this newspaper without glasses. Oh, no, no. Look, I'm in no mood to give demonstrations just to please him. There, you see, he doesn't dare. Make him try. I can't read a word. I tell you, not a word. Monsieur Leclerc, it might be expedient. It would certainly settle the issue once and for all. Oh, very well, Doctor. Since you suggested it, give me the paper. I pretend it to be nervous just to give them a thrill. Then I open the paper to the want-ads. To end them off, glibly. The small print. Glasses? I've got eyes like a hawk. Mary, you know that because in the summer I met her, I was avoiding the police and part of my disguise included glasses and touching up my prematurely gray hair. I never told Mary. You know how far I could trust her. When I finished reading the paper, Mary just stared at me, unable to believe the evidence of her own eyes. Silence for a moment, then... I'm sorry, sir. Well, perhaps this young woman can think up some other difficult trick. She'd like me to perform. Trick? It was a trick. He can't read. Madame Rivard, we've had quite enough. No, this is my husband. He's fooled you. That's all that paper. It's a trick. Of course, a trick. I did it with mirrors. Young woman, you're not clever. You've got plenty of nerve, all right, but you're not clever. Why didn't you say I have a mole on my right shoulder? A small scar on my hip and very flat feet. Almost anyone could have told you these things. I use a swimming pool every day. Sergeant Freeman, I can't applaud your part in this. For three years, I've done my best to help you because I thought you were trying to help me regain my memory and take my right foot place in society. Well, I must tell you, sir, I no longer feel that way. Not after you try to connect me with this jailbird. Jailbird? That's right, Henry. I'm a jailbird and I deserve to be. I helped you and that was wrong. But don't think you're safe. I'll rot and die in prison, but you won't know about it. You'll be dead. For heaven's sake, take this woman away. Yes, Sergeant. Come along, Madame Rivard. No, let me tell him something. Have you forgotten Nate Blackburn? Henry, well, he hasn't forgotten you. Blackburn came to me in prison and I told him the whole thing. By tomorrow, he'll know right where to find you. He knows now. In the doorway stood Nate Blackburn. He gunned in his hand. He was smiling. Dr. Samson and Freeman started forward, but he waved them back with a gun. No one spoke as he walked across the room and stopped in front of me. Hello, Frenchie. Some mistake. Yeah, but you made it, Frenchie. I had a hunch you'd get together with your wife sooner or later. I spent a lot of time and money keeping an eye on him. Look here, my man, put away that gun. That sort of thing doesn't go in this country. You're right, copper. I know. Only this is a special occasion. You won't get a mile away. I know that too. Blackburn, I'll give you the money. What money? Will I bring back Jack Randall? Will I put this girl back in circulation? Listen to me. I can explain if you let me. It wasn't like you think at all. Nate, we used to be pals. Remember? New York, San Francisco, Paris? We are lots of fun. I bail you out, in Rio. I'll make good, Nate. I swear I will. Only... Don't think I'm good, did you? You don't know me? Anytime I really try. I can't. Dr. Samson, can you sign this confession? I doubt it, Sergeant. He's too badly off. Yes. Yes, I... I... I can't. I didn't think he could. Was he gone? It's all... strange, fellow. Not at all the criminal type. What is the criminal type, Doctor? I've never found it. Suspense, presented by AutoLite. Tonight's star, Mr. Charles Boyer. Mr. Wilcox, why do you always say you're always right with AutoLite? Because, little jitterbug, it's true. AutoLite makes more than 400 products for cars, trucks, planes, and boats in 28 plants coast to coast. These include complete electrical systems used as original equipment on many makes of America's finest cars. Generators, coils, distributors, voltage regulators, wire and cables, starting motors, electric windshield wipers. All engineered to fit together perfectly, work together perfectly because they're a perfect team. Don't accept electrical parts supposed to be as good. Ask for and insist on AutoLite, original factory parts at your neighborhood service station, car dealer, garage, or repair shop. Remember, you're always right with AutoLite. Next Thursday for Suspense, our star will be Mr. Broderick Crawford. The play is called Deadline. And it is, as we say, a tale well calculated to keep you in... Suspense. Tonight's Suspense play was produced and edited by William Speer and directed by Norman MacDonald. Music for Suspense is composed by Lucian Mora-Wacken, conducted by Led Bluskin. The case of Henri Vibar is an original play written for radio by Bradbury Foote. Charles Boyer may soon be seen in the Douglas Cirque production of the first legion. You can buy AutoLite's day-full batteries, AutoLite's standard or resistor spark plugs, AutoLite electrical parts at your neighborhood AutoLite dealers. Switch to AutoLite. Good night. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.