 Suspense! Tonight Suspense brings you Mr. Richard Ney and Mr. Joseph Kearns as stars in a remarkable study in Suspense, written by the distinguished contemporary English novelist Evelyn Wall. But first, may we remind you that in America's smartest homes and clubs, where hospitality is the last word in luxury, the first name in wine is C-R-E-S-T-A? V-L-A-N-C-A Cresta Blanca Cresta Blanca Yes, that's Cresta Blanca wines. And for the knowing tongue, Cresta Blanca has created two rare California cherries, Dry Watch and Triple Cream. Compare Cresta Blanca Dry Watch and Triple Cream with the world's finest cherries. You'll find Cresta Blanca Dry Watch and Triple Cream cherries unequaled in America, unsurpassed anywhere. Shanley's Cresta Blanca Wine Company, Livermore, California. And now, Shanley brings you Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills, Suspense! Presented by Roma Wines, that's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines of Fresno, California. Tonight stars Richard May and Joseph Kearns appear in Evelyn Wall's study in mounting terror called The Man Who Liked Dickens, a suspense play produced, edited and directed for Shanley by William Spear. When Brenda and I broke up the marriage, it cheered the gossips and gave them something to talk about. I kept running into people who asked about Brenda and I either bought them or they bought me. One of the rare moments when a human equation is perfectly balanced, so that when Dr. Messenger told me in a club one night he was going on an expedition into the Amazon to find a buried city called Demerara, I asked to go with him. I told nobody about it except my brother Mark. I can remember little of the preparations or leaving England. All I can recall now is that when we docked near the mouth of the Orinoco, the tropics were bathed in a green and lemon splendor. How well suckled from heaven it seemed. Green hills up, stone with daisy, and the breeze was sweet and everything seemed luminous and lately sprung from the soil. I don't know when that feeling first wore off, perhaps when I began to sense that there was something wrong with the natives. Dr. Messenger had hired them with the usual trinkets and they seemed happy, but as the days wore on, you knew there was some deep reservation in their mind. We crossed the headwaters and started down to look for bigger streams and they spoke to Dr. Messenger for the first time that night. They didn't want to go on. It wasn't their country and they were frightened. Dr. Messenger shouted and screamed at them and they quieted down. They quieted down and made no sound. Finally, they made no sound at all in the night. I knew what had happened before Dr. Messenger burst into my tent. I'm awake. Come outside. Something rotten has happened. I know already. The natives have gone. Bunch of rotters. They sneaked away like shadows. Did they leave the stuff? I guess. They took only their own things. They're honest. The only decent thing they could do. No, I mean they're honest. They never intended to go on. They'll leave us this way. We don't need them, though. We'll find others. We'll do it handy, we will. We'll keep looking. Right's the word, Tony. We'll keep looking. We'll keep talking and talking and we'll dodge what we both want to say. They were alone in a jungle. What if we are? We'll move on. With our maps and we'll do it handy. Take a bit of the poison, that's all. No, I suppose. Dr. Messenger, about the trip and everything ahead. Yes? Do you think we'll make it? Of course, we've got to. It's that simple. We've got to. Thank you. You know, I don't think we will either. The next morning we gathered our stock. Set up an emergency camp on the left bank and started down the main stream. Right after breakfast, I found I had the fever. So Messenger and I had to travel in the same canoe. Part of the provisions loaded against my feet to keep me from falling out. Late that afternoon, Messenger nudged the boat ashore. There were falls up ahead and we had to carry the canoe past the danger spot. Messenger lifted me ashore and started to drag the canoe up on the bank. The cargo shifted on him and he slipped into the water. It was quite shallow in places and he caught at the rocks, but they were warm smooth and he plunged into deep water and reached the falls. The foam subsided into a great pool, almost there, and strewn with flotons from the forest trees that stood gauntly above it. Dr. Messenger's hat floated very slowly toward the Amazon and the water closed over his bald head. Hello. My name is Todd. Here, drink it. You'll only need a bit. No, drink it now. I have the fever. I know, but you're getting rid of it. How can you tell? If you're alive, you're getting over it. If you're dead, you're not. Thank you. You're the first stranger I've seen for a very long time. And you're the first one I've seen for a very long time. I liked him from the first. I liked him right away. Mr. Todd brought me to his house. He was near a village of Indians along the riverbank. He owned a dozen or so head of puny cattle which grazed in the savannah, a plantation of cassava, some banana and mango tree, a dog, and, unique in the neighborhood, a single barrel of breech loading shotgun. He sat and talked to me while he gave me medicine and nursed me back to health. There's a medicine for everything in the forest. To heal and to make you well, to kill you and to drive you mad. My mother was an Indian and she taught me many of them. How long have you lived here in the jungle? Oh, I was born here. I've always lived here. It's a very long and lonely life. Would be for me. I've watched most of the natives grow up. Some of them die. And I've tried to look after them. Then that's why they obey you so well. That reason and because I have the gun. My father was a good company. He lived to a great age, a very great age. It's not 25 years since he died. Oh, he was a man of education. Can you read? Oh, yes, of course. Oh, not everyone's so fortunate. I cannot. The only two words I know how to spell are born and died. Oh, yeah? Oh, that's rather too bad. Oh, but I suppose you have much opportunity here. Oh, yes, that's just it. I have a great many books. I'll show them to you when you're better. My father left them. Oh, I see. Yes, he used to read to me. He read to me all the time. Then there was another man a few years ago. Barnabas. He read to me until he had to leave. I was very sad because he read well. And the books mean so much to me. How long ago was that? Seven years ago. He read to me every day until he left. You shall read to me when you're better. Why, I'd be delighted to. As Mrs. Bardale says to Mr. Pickwick, it is so kind of you to have so much consideration for my loneliness. Yes, you shall read to me. Mr. Todd had a soft way of speaking as if he'd learned to talk under the sounds of the jungle. And now, as he went about his work in the village, he seemed happier than I'd seen him before, as if he were alive to some great expectation. I went on recuperating, and my first day out of bed, he took me walking into the jungle. Wait, we'll have to turn back soon. Going late. Yes, it's almost four o'clock. What would it be like in London now? I can never remember which way it goes. What's the time? Oh, every nine o'clock. The sun comes up in the east. They get the day sooner. So we get a second hand and slightly soiled. What's the matter? That mound of dirt there. What is it? It's a grave. I told you about him. Who? Barnabas. His name was Barnabas Washington. He's the man who read to me. You said he left. Didn't he? But you didn't say that that way. You talked as if he really left. Did I? Maybe it was the way of saying things down here. You're an educated man. I didn't mean that. I just thought of him as leaving. Of course I should have made it clear. He was a splendid fellow Barnabas. I liked him very much. How long was he here? Oh, quite a long time. I mean, exactly how long? I couldn't remember. Quite a long time. And he died here without getting home? I guess it seems sad. He was a splendid fellow. I'm sure he was missed. You know you've given me an idea. Yeah? I wonder if he doesn't need a marker. I think I'll build a small cross. Two of them I think want to commemorate his leaving and the other your coming. Now that seems very odd. Most things are that old men do. I'd like to begin now. Would you care to help? No, I'm going back. I feel tired. Oh, yes, of course. Print it out for me. Will you Barnabas Washington and your name? I know how to print born and died. I'll do it later myself. Yes, now you want to rest. And tonight, tonight I think we could begin. Begin what? Your reading to me. You feel well enough now, don't you? Yes, I feel all right. Oh, good. Then we'll begin tonight. It was thus that I entered my prison, a dungeon in bright sunlight. No one could imagine it. A slave to the subtlest of all tyrannies, the imprisonment of another man's mind. For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Richard Ney and Joseph Kearns and the man who liked Dickens. Roma Wines' presentation tonight in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrill's Suspense. Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrill's is presented by Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A. Roma Wines, those better tasting selections from the world's greatest reserves of fine wines. This is Truman Bradley with a suggestion from Roma that has helped many a hostess win high praise. Whenever friends drop in for an afternoon or evening, show the warmth of your welcome by serving better tasting Roma California wines. For both host and guest, there's pleasure in the tempting nut-like taste of golden amber Roma sherry, rich ruby-red Roma port, or mellow, flame-bright Roma must tell. You'll find that everybody will cheer your choice when you serve these fine Roma wines because they do taste better. Remember, there's a better tasting Roma wine for every occasion, for every taste. So for an everyday family treat or smart hospitality, at little cost, always serve Roma wines. That's R-O-M-A. Roma Wines, America's favorite wine. And now Roma wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage. Richard Ney as Anthony Last and Joseph Kearns as Mr. Todd in The Man Who Liked Dickens, a play well calculated to keep you in suspense. It was dark when Mr. Todd came in, and we ate in silence. After the meal, he led me into his room and I saw the books for the first time. They were on a loft above his bed and tied in small bundles. He brought all of the bundles in by the fire and began to unwrap them. It's been hard to keep out the worms in the ants. Oh, two are practically destroyed, Oliver and David. But there's an oil the Indians make that's useful. Oh, yes, here's one we could start with. It's in rather bad shape, but the printing's clear. You want to start with this? Oh, it doesn't matter, which we take first. Do you like that book? Nicholas Nicolby. Nicholas Nicolby. Like Charles Dickens. Well, maybe something lighter to start with. Something besides Dickens, huh? Well, there's nothing besides Dickens. You can say all these books. Oh, yes, every one of them by Charles Dickens. All the books he wrote are right there. Oh, but the ants destroyed too. Very sorry about that. You must like Dickens a great deal. Oh, I do, I'm very fond of him. You see, these are the only books I have ever heard. They belong to your father. Oh, yes, he used to read them to me. And then the other man, and now you. Well, I've heard them all several times by now, but I never get tired. There's always more to be learned and noticed and so many characters and so many changes of scene and so many words. But it's a long time to read them all, more than two years. Well, I should think they'd last out my visit. Oh, oh, I hope not. It's delightful to start again. Each time I find more to enjoy and admire. I say, shall we begin? I suppose. Oh, sit there and read across the fire to me. I like it best that way. All right, just go ahead, huh? A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. The first book, Recall to Life. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom. It was the epoch of incredulity. It was the season of light. It was the season of darkness. I found some pleasure in the reading for a while. It calmed me and gave me a feeling of being whole again. And the old man's delight was something to see. As I read, he followed the word soundlessly with his lips. Often, when a new Dickensian character was introduced, he'd say, Uh, repeat the name, I've forgotten him. Or, yes, yes, I remember her well. Uh, she dies poor woman. Always he was concerned with the people and nothing else. And his comments were usually simple. I think that deadlock is a very proud man. Or, Mrs. Jellybee does not take enough care of her children. Almost daily now, I mention the subject of my departure and asked about canoes and rains and the possibility of finding guides. And one night, after I'd finished a chapter of Bleak House, I said, Look, the time's come, Mr. Todd, when I've got to think about getting back. Well, I haven't posed on you long enough. Oh, none. Oh, I mean it. Now, how soon do you think I'll be able to get a boat? A boat? Yes, to leave. I appreciate all your kindness to me more than I can say. Any kindness I may have shown is amply repaid by your reading of Dickens. Now, do not let us mention that subject again. I'm glad you enjoyed it. But I must be thinking of getting back now. Oh, yes, yes. The other man was like that. He thought of it all the time. But he died before he got back. Mr. Todd, did he, the other man, did he finish all the Dickens book? Finish them? Yes, the other man. Did he go through all of them? No, it's hard to remember. But I do recall a tale of two cities, three or four times. Three or four times? You mean he went all through and came back? Why? You said it took two years each time. Well, maybe three times. I'm getting old. My memory's not so good. Mr. Todd, why did he stay? I don't know. Why did he stay all those years? Well, he never said. Forgive me, Mr. Todd, but I must press the point. When can I get a boat? There is no boat. Oh, the Indians can build one. You'll have to wait for the rain. How long will that be? Oh, a month. Two months. Well, I must speak to them then. Yes, of course, of course. No, no, no, it's early. If you think we could read some more tonight, Bleak House has always been a favorite mine. It's known by Mrs. Gamp that it was decided that Mrs. Gamp should be approached without delay. I wonder if you could read that over again. It's one of the points I think Dickens leaves unclear. Oh, I'm very tired. I wonder if we could wait. Oh, yes, of course. We'll take it up tomorrow. Listen. What is it? It's the rain. The rain's come, Mr. Todd. It always does. You know what it means? I can make preparations to go now. I can talk to the natives about building a boat. Oh, that's impossible. Why? It's impossible. The Indians won't build a boat during rainy season. It's one of their superstitions. You might have told me. Didn't I mention it? I forgot. No, you've forgotten a lot of things. Oh, well, I'm getting old. Not too old, Mr. Todd. You've remembered to evade me. How could I evade you? But you have. You've lied to me. You've lied to me systematically. Mr. Todd, you're holding me a prisoner. You're keeping me here against my will. I demand to be released. You're under no restraint. You couldn't go when you lied. You know very well I can't get away without your help. In that case, you'll have to humor an old man. Read to me another chapter. Todd, I swear by anything you like. When I get to Manos, I'll find someone to take my place. I'll pay a man to read to you. I have no need for another man. You read so well. Then I've read for the last time. I hope not. Oh, I sincerely hope not. Well, that evening it suffered. Only one piece of dried meat was brought in, and Mr. Todd ate alone. Next day at noon, a single plate was put before Mr. Todd. But with it lay his gun, cut on his knee as he ate. And I began reading of Martin Cheslewis. But it was different now, because I knew what lay ahead. And if I didn't then, I did after I found a scrawled note toward the back of the book. It was written with pencil and a rough hand. I, James Todd of Brazil, who swear to Bonobos Washington of Georgetown, that if he finished this book, in fact, Martin Cheslewis, I will let him go back as soon as finished. You have followed a heavy pencil egg, and after it, Mr. Todd made this mark, signed Bonobos Washington. The note was signed January 1929, and Bonobos Washington, and Bonobos Washington, died in 1940. Well, from that moment on, I began to grow worse. I ate little and slept even less, and every day there was more Charles Dickens. A whole year had passed of our mutual friend in the old curiosity shop, and Mr. Todd was already talking of starting over again. And then a stranger arrived in camp, a half-caste prospector, one of that lonely order of men who wander for a lifetime through the forest, tracing the streams for gold. I stood in the rain outside his window and heard them. He said they were white men a few days away, apparently on their way toward this camp. Mr. Todd was furious. When did you take them? About a week ago, and I came fast. They were coming this way? Oh, I'm sure of it. Did they ask for anybody? I didn't talk to them. Oh, thank you. Well, I must send out a party to greet them. Sit there and finish your tea. I shan't be long. Thank you. Look, you must help me before he comes back. You sent somebody to head them off. You've got to get there first. What about? I'm a prisoner. Tell them about me. Here. Here, give them this. Where is it? Where is it? Page 214. Here. All right. Now that's my name. They'll know. Just give it to them? Yes, and hurry. Don't hit him, though. I hid it on you somewhere. And hurry. Please hurry, because you're my last hope under heaven. Well, Mr. Todd must have sent that, too, because the next afternoon, he told me that he expected I'd be leaving soon, and invited me to a native feast. I agreed to go, and that was my fatal blunder, the last of all possible mistakes. At the feast, they served a thick porridge, and I remember only growing warm and weak, and being carried back to Mr. Todd. I was still weak when I woke. I was in the armchair, and found Mr. Todd rocking contentedly before his fire. Aha! Are we awake? Oh, you don't look well. Not well at all. I feel rotten. That porridge doesn't seem to agree with me. I'll give you something to make you better. The forest has remedies for everything, to make you awake and to make you sleep. You haven't seen my watch anywhere? You've missed it? Yes, I thought I was wearing it. See, I've never slept so long. Not since you were a baby. You know how long? Two days. Nonsense. I couldn't sleep that long. But you did. It was a long time. It was a pity, too, because you missed our guest. Yes. Yes? I've been quite gay while you were asleep. Three men from outside Englishmen. The pity you missed them are pity for them, too, since they particularly wish to see you. Then it did come. They came all the way to find you. Yes, just to find you. Hurt you were asleep. They wanted to see you. I didn't think you'd mind, so I gave them a little souvenir. Your what? You gave them my watch? You... Why, they thought... Your brother, Mark, was pleased with it. And they took some photographs of the little cross I put up to commemorate your coming. Of course, I had to alter it a little. You wrote in my death. You wrote in my death on that cross. Oh, no, no, no. You're upset. We'll have no dickings tonight, but tomorrow night we'll start little Dorot again. There are passages in that book I can never hear without the temptation to weep. They didn't ask questions. They didn't suspect. Who was? What a note. They couldn't have missed it. What note? There was no note. They didn't show it to you then. Maybe they guessed. They didn't guess anything. Well, they'd have shown it to you. Oh, they must have understood. You tore it out of a book. What book? What book did you tear it out of? This one, by your feet. A tale of two cities. What page? What did he say? What did he say? You remember. So do you. But tell me, you can remember. Repeat for him. I'll remember it all my life. Repeat. After having long been in danger of my life at the hands of the village, I have been seized with great violence and indignity and brought a long journey on foot. Oh. And I demand of heaven fully not come to deliver me with the love of heaven and justice of generosity. I supplicate you to suck her and release me. You bitch and a mess. Now they'll know. They'll know what it means when they'll come back. There it is now. No. I'm here. I'm up here in the clearing. It's only 180. Now they've come back. Now take the book and all your books. No. Take them out of the fire. No. My book. Nicholas. Nicholas. My book. No, no, no. The heart of the Amazon country that night was a night that was full of sound. The howl among these was silent, but tree frogs nearby set up a continuous chorus. Birds were awake, calling and whistling, and far on the depths about them came the occasional rending and reverberation of dead wood falling among the trees. And under all of that, the sound of Mr. Todd, the sound of words coming out of his mouth, a mouth that had nothing left to it but trembling and clivering, the sound of Mr. Todd sitting before the fire watching the last of Charles Dickens burn and repeating from a broken memory. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom. It was the age of foolishness. It was the epoch of belief. It was the epoch of incredulity. It was the season of light. It was the season of darkness. It was the spring of hope. It was the winter of despair. Suspense, the man who liked Dickens, starring Richard Naye and Joseph Kearns, presented by Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A. Roma Wines, America's largest selling wines. Well, next week is National Wine Week, throughout California's famed grape-growing districts. Gay festivals will celebrate nature's rich bounty and the grape treasure from which fine Roma-California wines are created. And this year, as always, Roma is selecting and pressing only the choicest California grapes. Then Roma master vendors with ancient skills and unmatched winemaking resources will guide this luscious treasure unhurriedly to tempting perfection. When these finer, better-tasting Roma wines will be laid aside with mellow Roma wines of years before to await later selection for your pleasure from the world's greatest reserves of fine wines. That's why, when you enjoy Roma-California sherry, port, muscatel, or any Roma wine, you're always sure of better taste, unvarying high quality at reasonable cost. So, when you ask for wine, insist on Roma. That's R-O-M-A. Roma wines enjoyed by more Americans than any other wine. Richard Naye will soon be seen in the Ciero production, Joan of Lorraine. Tonight's Suspense Play was adapted by Richard Breen from the original short story by Evelyn Wall. Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Marsha Hunt as star of Suspense, produced and directed by William Spear for the Roma wine company of Fresno, California. In the coming week, Suspense will present such stars as Louis Jourdan, June Havoc, Dennis O'Keefe, and others. Make it a point to listen each Thursday to Suspense, radio's outstanding theater of thrills. This is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System.