 Another tale well calculated to keep you in. Mary Cecilia Rogers was murdered in the vicinity of New York City in the summer of 1842. It was still an unsolved crime in November, when the mystery of Marie Roger was published. The author, Edgar Allan Poe. It paralleled in every essential detail the murder of Mary Rogers. Poe wrote it far from the scene of the atrocity, with only the newspaper reports of the day. Nevertheless, the subsequent confession connected with the murder of Mary Rogers confirmed not only the killer named by Poe, but all the chief details by which he arrived at his identification. Good evening. My name is Dupin. I should like to extend an invitation. Regard first a certain event which truly occurred in New York City and a warm summer night in 1842. Secondly, I invite you to employ your imagination and displace that same event intact with all of the essential facts to a cobbled old world Paris on an identical warm and frequent summer night in the same year. Lastly, and most interesting, I should like to invite you to attend that event. It is a murder. A general design and mental character of the atrocity. Indeed, the first knowledge of its occurrence came to my attention on Wednesday night, the 25th day of June. Who is the prefect of police? I am, Monsieur Dupin. Yes, Monsieur. Oh, thank you for coming, Monsieur. I wasn't certain my messenger would find you. No, this way, Monsieur. Andre, the lantern for Monsieur Dupin. She died harshly. Yes, yes, yes, beaten, choked, drowned out. Yes, quite harshly, yes. She was beautiful, Monsieur. Once perhaps, yes. But ma'am, she looked what? In life, she had a name. In death, she must also have a name. Any of you? Monsieur, none of them know her, I have asked. But her clothes and jewels say she was known, Dupin. Good clothes, torn and disordered in her terrible struggle, but good. And the jewelry, not expensive, but tasteful. This woman, in my opinion, Dupin, was known. And loved, Monsieur, prefect. No doubt. Dupin, this is why I said for you. I've been through these things before. The newspapers will write stories. Their reporters will make conjecture. Although there is no name for her now, there will eventually be a name. And then, Monsieur, I will be called upon to produce her assassins. There is so little to go on. The eyes of the public will be upon me and my honour is at stake. And my honour too, Monsieur, prefect, if I am involved in the investigation. Dupin, listen. There is a fund at the prefecture, a sizeable fund which I am authorized to use when circumstances arise. For your services, I am willing to make direct and liberal proposition. Dupin, you will help me to find the answer to this woman's death. A poem about the mouth, as in the case of the merely drawn Monsieur, air bruises, impressions of fingers. It was a strangulation by hand and by discard, Monsieur. Yes. Dr. Dupin, an ingenious knot in that cord. Don't you think? This is a slip knot, a sailor's knot. Sailor's knot. She was found in water. Why did she die, Monsieur? For her beauty perhaps, for love, her hate. It was Sunday. Huh? Observe, doctor. There are no marks to prove she was weighted and then she can lose. Yes, she quit life on Sunday. Murdered in the dark, thrown into the river, unweighted. Monday, Tuesday, she remained as a corpse, will on the bottom. And then on the third day, tonight, as a corpse, will, she rose. She was murdered on the bank, then taken out to her grave in a boat. And there had to be a man who knew how to handle a boat in the tricky current. Who's there? It is I, the prefect. I have someone who thinks he may know her. Come in, Monsieur. Now, head of me, please. With your permission, doctor, Monsieur Dupin, Monsieur Bouvet. How do you do? Monsieur Bouvet has been searching since Monday for news of a Marie Roger. Manuel Roger is an employee of Monsieur Bouvet, correct, Monsieur? Yes, I am a perfumer. I called on her mother Madame Roger Monday when Marie did not appear at my shop. Madame informed me that Marie had left Sunday to visit her aunt at Roudedron. She has not yet returned. I see. And what else? I cannot say, Monsieur. So far I have ascertained that she never arrived at Roudedron. And indeed, no one has seen her since Sunday, not even Jacques Santoustès. Who is Jacques Santoustès, Bouvet? Monsieur Santoustès is the accepted suitor of Marie Roger. He lodges and takes meals that the pension kept by Madame Roger. He was to have gone for his betrothed at dusk Sunday and to have escorted her home. In the afternoon it rained heavily and, supposing that she would remain at her aunt's, he did not think it necessary to keep his promise. She has stayed there under similar circumstances. And where is Jacques Santoustès at this moment? Searching and anxious as I am for Marie Roger, but where he went I do not know. It is three days since Sunday. Four days, really. But three that Marie Roger has been considered missing. Your search is tardy. I know, Monsieur. Well? I am at your mercy. She has disappeared twice. The first time she disappeared was about three years ago. A mother or friends were unable to account for her disappearance. I was distracted with anxiety and terror. Did you notify the police? In that case immediately, sir. But certainly Marie Ria appeared one fine morning after being absent all week. So you did not call the police. This second time she disappeared. Well, what has happened once can happen again, Monsieur. What did happen that week she was away? I do not know. I do not honestly know. But you doubt this story of visiting a relative. I will not say. Show him what we have, doctor. If you will kindly step over him, Monsieur Beauvais. Now, Monsieur Beauvais, if you please. You know this woman, sir. It is her. It is Marie Roger. It is her. Why does Beauvais cry, Dupin? The girl only worked for him. Ah, he has not told us all. He is suspect, Dupin, and I will have a word with him. Huh? Stay. But, Dupin, why does he weep for a sharp girl, a grisette who is promised to another? He weeps for youth and beauty. In just a moment, we will return for the second act of... suspense. Welcome, Recording Star, Mel Tormé. It is terrible trying to sing with a bad cold. So, I always take four-way cold tablets to relieve cold miseries fast. Good idea. Tests of all the leading cold tablets proved four-way fastest acting. Four-way starts in minutes to relieve muscular pains, headache, reduce fever, calm upset stomach. Also, overcomes irregularity. When you catch cold, try my way. Take four-way cold tablets. The fast way to relieve cold distress and feel better quickly. Four-way, only 29 cents. Our program will continue in a moment, after a word about another fine product of Grove Laboratories. Does dandruff dull your hair, leave scalp itchy? Get Fitch dandruff remover shampoo, and get rid of unsightly dandruff in three minutes. Three minutes with Fitch regularly is guaranteed to keep embarrassing dandruff away forever. Apply Fitch before wetting hair, rub in one minute. Add water, lather one minute, rinse one minute. Every trace of dandruff goes down the drain. Three minutes with Fitch, unsightly dandruff's gone. Fitch can also leave your hair up to 35% brighter. Fitch, dandruff remover shampoo. New power game. You will recall the event we have been attending in Paris. I invite you now to keep in mind this solemn fact that Marie Rogé died violently. That her lover, Jacques Saint-Ostès, is missing. Where she died, who administered her death? For what reason remain to be known? Attain at this point another event, if you will, which was arranged by that zealous and righteous man the prefect of police. Ah, thank you for coming to Paris. You have located the lover Saint-Ostès? Saint-Ostès? No, no, he's unimportant, I assure you. Somewhere right now he drinks and tries to forget. But what I have here is important, most important. Madame Dulac, if you please. Good evening, gentlemen. Good evening. This is Madame Dulac. She has something of interest to tell you and I have something of interest to show you. Good evening, Madame. I have maintained this tavern many years. Right here, close to the bank of the river. No fear with me, Madame. I have no authority to do anything but to respect your person and to your thoughts. What is this information? I saw a young woman here Sunday. Monsieur says it was Marie Roger. It was, definitely. Just a moment. Sunday? Yes, mid-afternoon and later perhaps. Where? Right here in my town. She arrived accompanied by a young man of dark, salty complexion. The two remained here for some time. On their departures, they took the road through some thick woods. That way. Toward the river, Dupin. And this is a secluded neighborhood. Oh, go on, Madame. Go on, go on. Soon after they left, a gang of miscreants made their appearance here. They behaved boisterously. They ate and drank without payment. Then left and followed the route of the young girl and the young man that same way. I see. About dusk, the same gang reappeared and recrossed the river in great haste. I see. And you are certain it was Marie Roger? Never fear. My man spoke with an omnibus driver, a man named Valence, who knew Marie Roger. He claims he saw her cross the Seine on the Sunday afternoon in question with a swore of a man who feeds the exact description of my dad. What else, Monsieur? I will show you. Come on. I followed him through the back of the tavern into the thick woods which lined the Seine at that point. He stopped when we had come to a close ticket within which were three or four large stones forming a kind of seat with a back and a footstool. Note, Dupin, a white petticoat here and here a silk scarf, parasol, gloves, pocket handkerchief. Inspect the handkerchief, Dupin. Thank you. Note the name Marie Roger, embroidered there. Yes. So this is the place she met her dad. Of course it is. And I have found it. Look, the earth is trampled where she struggled and over here, bushes still broken. Every evidence of a terrible struggle. And here, the fence has been taken down and the ground shows that some heavy burden was dragged along in it. Toward the river. Come, look for yourself. What do you say now? I am wondering. Wander? We have facts now, sir. Important facts. Do you recall a strip of one of the unfortunate girls' petticoats that had been tied about her mouth, probably to prevent her screams? I do. These was done by fellows who had no pocket handkerchiefs. Miscreants, Dupin, miscreants such as those who visited Madame Dulac's tavern and later went the same way as Marie Roger and her companion. There are many such gangs about here. Now all we have to do is locate them and I know how to do that. In just a moment, we will return for the concluding act of... suspense. Pepsi Cola refreshes without filling. Why? Because it's truly light. Charlie, you're forgetting something. Wait, Kay, there's more. Yes, Ice Cold Pepsi is the delicious refreshment that goes great at a picnic or a party. But, Charlie... And Pepsi goes fast. People like it. So keep plenty handy. There. Oh, you did fine. Except for one thing. Well, I mentioned likeness and how Pepsi refreshes and how fast it goes. You left out Pepsi sociability. You know the be sociable song. Kay, I can't sing. I can. Listen. Be sociable, love more with Pepsi. Drink like refreshing Pepsi. Well, at least I can say this. Pick up an extra carton of Pepsi today. Please do. That night, the shrill cries of the Paris news boys proclaimed the prefect's resolve. He offered a reward of 20,000 francs and a full pardon for any king's evidence. It was an accepted conclusion that Marie-Rosé had been well-aid and slain by a gang of miscreants in the vicinity of Madame du Lac's tavern. Well, now you defeated Monsieur Dupin now that I have solved the mystery of Marie-Rosé. No, Monsieur. I have doubled the reward. Soon one of the miscreants will come forward. Then you will see 40,000 francs should be temptation enough. 20,000 was temptation enough. What? No one will come forward, sir. A gang such as he is hoped for would be composed of men who have never seen more than 100 francs at one time. 20,000 would bring all of them if they had any knowledge of Marie-Rosé's murder. They are just waiting, you know that? Waiting. When each is in jeopardy because of the other. We shall see, Dupin. Wait. It was one man. A man who dragged the body of Manzelle to the river's edge. A gang even two men could have carried it. A gang would have lifted it over the fence easily instead of taking a fence down as it was taken down. One man labelled hard. My conjecture is as good as yours. Are you talking of Saint Hustas? No. He is quite unguilty. Monsieur, allow me to point out that the newspapers, the police, all have identified themselves with what apparently happened. We must consider what did not happen. First, a gang did not set upon her and murder her. Secondly, Marie-Rosé had no intention of visiting her aunt at Roud des Drômes when she left her mother and lover last Sunday morning. Dupin, if you have confidential information, explain yourself. I have the same information as you. Nothing else. You said she had no intention of visiting her aunt that day. Why do you say that? Monsieur, consider what might have happened if you are intended. Jacques Saint Hustas had called for her at her aunt's and discovered she was not there. That she had not been there all day. He would have been chagrined, suspicious, angry. Saint Hustas would have been all of these. Something for Marie-Rosé to worry about when she returned home. But nothing to worry about if Marie did not intend to return home. No point to consider, perhaps. Go on. Consider that she kept a rendezvous instead. This we know. A rendezvous with a swarthy man. We have been told by two witnesses who saw him. Now, Monsieur, I ask you, as I have asked myself, did this swarthy companion allow Marie to be slain before his eyes? Or was he himself slain trying to help her? If so, where is his body? He left her before. She was set upon, obviously. Did he leave her alone in such a dark district? Would they quarrel? Indeed they did. Another question. Marie-Rosé's death is known everywhere in France. Why has he not come forward to help us clear up the mystery? For many reasons, perhaps he's married. He has left. He's uninformed. He has a swarthy complexion, a sea complexion. A well-attested fact. Now, accumulate that with the cord that was tied about her neck in a sailor's knot. Monsieur Dupin, I cannot... And the need of a skilled boatman to handle a boat on the river to dispose of the body. But it could be anyone? No, it could not. Ah? Marie-Rosé was a gay, not an abject girl. And no common semen for her. An officer. A naval officer, Monsieur. Like the one who might have led her into a false elopement the first time she disappeared. Three years pass. The approved time for a French man-of-war to consume and circling the globe. The officer returns, thinking of the same coquette Marie-Rosé, the same bargain. What he has managed to do once, he can do again. Marie meets him Sunday for this purpose. Then she thinks the better of an elopement and refuses to accompany him. Saint-Eustace has captured her love. A former lover slays her in quick anger and he drags her body to the river. Commandeers are both... Where do I find him? And whatever ship has arrived from the world cruise. His name? What is his name, Dupin? Inquire for the name of the young officer who has applied for leave to get married. But there must be many such among the ships compliment returning after a long cruise. Agreed. But, Monsieur Prefect, there is only one naval officer who has returned to his ship without a bride. André? André? We leave at once for the naval yards. It has been an interesting evening. Now I issue a last invitation, my friends. I invite you to retain all that you have earned and employ this time instead of your imagination, your sense of reality. For Marie Roger of Paris was truthfully Marie Rogers of New York. Let your reality move you back to New York City. On a winter day, some months after the event described, in the darkening afternoon, inside a gray stone building, I invite you to attend an overgray event. I think you will find it significant. Ensign Robert Bryant Wilson, you have been found guilty of the murder of Mary Cecilia Rogers. It is the judgment of this court that you be hanged by the neck until you are dead. Suspense. You've been listening to the mystery of Marie Roger, a story by Edgar Allan Poe, written for suspense by E. Jack Newman. In a moment, the names of our players and a word about next week's story of suspense. Through out of tune, due to irregularity, then help yourself get back in tune with Kellogg's Allbrand. Pleasant, isn't it? The feeling of well-being you get when constipation from lack of bulk is no longer a worry. When harsh, irritating drug laxatives can be thrown away, because Kellogg's Allbrand is the normal, natural way to regularity. Its whole brand content, gentle-the-way constipation, supplies your system with the bulk-forming food you need for youthful regularity. And it tastes good, too. Fact is, Kellogg's Allbrand is the one and only whole brand cereal that combines proved effectiveness with appetizing taste and crispness. So if you're out of tune, help yourself get back in tune as millions do with Kellogg's Allbrand. A-L-L-B-R-A-N. Kellogg's Allbrand. Heard in tonight's story were Jackson Beck as Dupin, Bob Dryton as the Prefect, and Guy Rapp as Beauvais. Others in our cast included Abbey Lewis, Jim Bowles, Ethel Everett, and Ronald Dawson. Listen again next week when we return with the Radio Classic, first broadcast on suspense May 25, 1943. Sorry, wrong number, starring Agnes Moorhead. Another tale well-calculated to keep you in on CBS Radio.