 For the first time in its history, Scotland Yard opens its official files to bring you the true stories of some of its most interesting and baffling cases. These are the true stories, the plain, unvarnished facts just as they occurred, re-enacted for you by an all-British cast. These stories are presented with the full corporation of Scotland Yard. Research on Whitehall 1212 is prepared by Percy Hoskins, Chief Crime Reporter of the London Daily Express. The stories for radio are written and directed by Willis Cooper. The next voice you will hear is out of Chief Superintendent John Davidson, custodian of Scotland Yard's famous Black Museum. Good afternoon. Would you have a cigarette? No, I'm sorry, not this case. This is the exhibit from the Black Museum and it has fingerprints on it. Besides, if that makes any difference, it's empty. Yeah, one of these, if you don't mind. I smoke with myself. Woodbine. Well, if you insist on one of your own, then this case had a great deal to do with the murder case back in the last year of the First World War in 1918. It was owned by an army officer. That's a curious mark on the outside of the case, isn't it? A scar, almost, you'd call it. Tis a scar. Bullet scar. And here's the man to tell you how it came into our possession, here at the Black Museum Scotland Yard. Superintendent Ben Inspector Norman Gray. Yes, it's been a long time since I've seen this case, Chief Superintendent. I remember the night quite well. September 26, 1918, the day the Yanks began their fantastic offensive in the Argonne Woods in France. I remember the telephone call I received that night, about a quarter to nine. What's up, old boy? Right, 131 Ladbroke Grove. Right, sir. I am on my way. In a few minutes, thanks to one of the earliest of Scotland Yards motor vehicles, I alighted near number 131 Ladbroke Grove, which is a fairly posh address. My knock on the door was answered by a lanky gentleman with a large black moustache, wearing a uniform with the crowns and red tabs of a staff major, and the flaming grenade badges of the Royal Fusiliers. What's up, sir, I asked, remembering to say, sir. I'm Major Robert Henry officer. My brother's been shot. I looked past him and on the sitting room floor, another officer was lying, bleeding from what appeared to be several wounds. I looked more closely. He was gasping. My brother, Captain Dougal Henry officer of the KRRC. Who shot him? An intruder, burglar, housebreaker. Where's he? Escaped, I'm afraid. Can you do anything about my brother? I've tried, but... Sorry, sir. Dougal. He can't hear you, sir. Is he? Is he? Yes, sir. Now, sir, what happened? Dougal, old boy. What happened? There's nothing. Nothing, sir. I'm sorry. He's dead. What happened? He was in the library talking with Major Ward. Where's Major Ward, please? He's in the library. Edmund... May I go in the library, sir? Is that it? Edmund's in there. And so he was. Oh, I say. Are you Major Ward, sir? Yes. May I have that revolver, sir? No? Oh, yes, yes, of course. I'm afraid I fired. At whom, sir? At the burglar. The man who killed my brother. But I'm afraid I missed him. I'm not a very good shot. He didn't miss. No, no. Poor Dougal. Is he dead? He is. Oh. You didn't give me a revolver, sir. Oh, excuse me. Thank you. Is this your service revolver, sir? Yes, of course. One goes on leave, of course. Webley, caliber 38. Issue. You're in the London Irish Rifle, sir. 174 Brigade. You know this gentleman? One of my dearest friends. That's right. Dearest friends. He'd been at my home this evening. Oh. Before we came here. Oh. That can easily be proved, officer. I'm not required that, sir, now. Well... You were on good terms with the dead man? I... Of course he was. What are you implying, officer? Only that I never saw either of you gentlemen before, sir. We know him. I'll have you understand that... May I remind you so that nobody has told me what happened? Well... I'll tell him, Edmund. Thank you. Please. I'll tell you quite simply, Constable. Inspector, sir. Oh, excuse me. I was sitting here, looking over the overseas edition of The Daily Mail. The one our soldiers received in France. Major Ward and my brother were talking in the library while I waited. We were all going to dinner shortly. Carriages, please. Yes. Well, there was an infernal noise in the library. Scuffling. Shots fired. I jumped up. Just as I came hurrying out and told... Said a burglar just shot poor Dugald and I think I've wounded him. Wounded whom? The burglar man. Wounded whom, Major Ward? Eh? Wounded whom? Oh. The burglar, of course. Just as he was clamoring out the window with his arms full of... He had already killed Captain Henry. Yes, of course. Yes, of course. But I didn't know he was dead then. All right. How'd he get him? The burglar? Yes. I don't... I haven't the faintest idea. One minute we were alone and the next minute there he was pointing a gun at Dugald. And you shot at him? I certainly did. I see you fired all the chambers of your revolvers up. I'm afraid I didn't hit him, though. You fired at him, though. He did. I heard him. Bullets are probably in the walls. We'll find them. Of course. Of course. How'd he get out? The window, the way he came in. And he did take something? What did he take, Edmund? Oh, that silver tanket that always used to stand on your desk. He belonged to my grandfather. I'm sorry I didn't kill him. It's too bad, Major. Now we must find him. Yes. Yes, indeed. Do you think you could describe him, Major? I know. Oh, partly. Eh? I could describe him partially, Officer. Little chap. Ruddy face. Ginger hair, I thought. But I'm not sure. I was shooting at him. Yes, but you missed it. Yes, but you missed it. And I was... What should we do now? I think our first task is to get this dead man out of here. Too good. Yes, I don't think he'll be much help. What's that, sir? Why, I... I said... A dead man? Not quite often useful, sir. Murdered man, I mean, sir. I'm afraid I don't understand that, sir. Why, sir, a murdered man is often the only one who knows who killed him. Except the man who did, of course. May I telephone Scotland Yard, sir? Major Robert Henry stood and watched sorrowfully as the detail I summoned from Scotland Yard loaded up his brother's body and started a way to the mortuary with it. Where's Major Ward, I ask? He's lying down. Mara. After all, old chap, he's just seen a very close friend shot down in cold blood. Oh, yes, of course. He's a combat officer. I notice surely he's seen a good many other close friends of his killed. I doubt he's seen any who were closer than Doogled. Oh? They've been pals since they were kids. I'm a good deal older than Doogled. Never was much of a brother to him, you know. Ward was just his age. He was the brother, in effect. Oh, yeah? Dreadful blow to him, especially under the circumstances. Circumstances? Yes. Ward was shell-shocked. Oh. Very alive by a shellburst not two weeks ago. Yes, they didn't get him out for five hours. Totally unconscious. The dead man lying across his knees. Horrible. Unconscious, I said. Perfectly conscious the first few minutes to remember the worst part of it. Then to come home and see his best friend murdered before his very eyes. I'm sorry. I didn't know that, sir. Of course you didn't. How could you? You never saw him. Did you? I remember him now. What? Oh. Oh, you've seen his picture. Everyone's seen it. I remember it from the illustrated papers when he was married. To Marjorie Carswell. Marjorie Carswell about six years ago. For the war. And Doogled was groomsman at the wedding. Oh. He was godfather to the first child, too. Yes, as I remember now. Doogled's been stationed here in London for a year now. Attached to some American something or other while Ward's been overseas. Oh, yes. As soon as he heard Ward was home on sick leave, he popped out to Carling Hill. That's where Ward lives, Carling Hill. Did you say that was tonight, sir? This afternoon and tonight. Oh, yes. You said your brother returned here. He and Ward were booked for dinner at Cadget's. At Cadget's, I asked them to stop past for a cocktail. Yes, I remember. They were in the library talking when this burglar or whatever he was entered. And, well, you know the rest. Yes. Mrs. Ward's still at Carling Hill, isn't it? Yes. She doesn't know anything about this. Or perhaps you telephoned her. No, I didn't. I don't believe Ward did either. Quite understandable if he didn't, isn't it? Oh, yes, yes, yes. I was wondering. Yes, sir. I was wondering if I hadn't better go down to this mortuary place, where they took poor Doogle to now. Well, sir. What? Well, I shouldn't if I were you, sir. Look here, why not? Well, sir, the police surgeon will be examining the body now. What difference does that make? You won't be able to see your brother, sir. Oh, what will he be doing? Something unpleasant. I don't think you'd better go, sir. Oh. Well, what'll I do? Perhaps you might stop and see Major Ward, sir. Perhaps there'd be something you could do for him, or better still, what? I was wondering if you'd like to call Major Ward's wife, sir. Mortuary? Yes, sir. I see. Oh, tell her what's happened. Break it gently, you know. She was very fond of poor Doogle. Good, good, good. Oh, but I say, what'll you do? I was hoping I could see the library. Library? Isn't that where they were when the burglar shot your brother? Oh, yes. Don't expect to find the fellow now, do you? No, sir, of course not. I want to look for bullets. What bullets? The one's Major Ward fired at the burglar. Oh. Oh, why? Why, Major Ward fired all the bullets in the cylinder of his revolver. If one or more is missing in the walls, perhaps he didn't miss, after all. And the fellow would be carrying one of Ward's bullets in his body. And we'll put out a call to find a man that answers the description Major Ward gave us. And who's been recently wounded by a Webley 38 bullet. That's clever, sir. Thank you, sir. It'll be simple. Those slugs from a service revolver make the very juice of a hole in a man, seeing what they do to Germans. Well, I see these cases in good hands. I'm going to go telephone mortuary. I was in that library 26 minutes by my watch. I was just concluding my examination when Major Henry entered again. Ah, there you are. Amazing. I've been trying all this time to reach mortuary, but the telephone doesn't answer. What seems to be the trouble? Well, I expect she's asleep after all. How's Major Ward feeling? Still sleeping. Not very quietly, but sleeping. How have you been doing? Major Henry, I've just made the most extraordinary discovery. Whitehall 1212, which you are listening to, is compiled from official Scotland Yard records. And this story, like all the others, is true, except for the names of the people involved. It is presented with a full cooperation of Scotland Yard. Research is by Percy Hoskins of the London Daily Express, and the story is for a radio, written and directed by Willis Cooper. Now, back to the story of the murder of Captain Dougal Henry of the King's Royal Rifle Corps, which occurred in September 1918. Inspector Greg had just told the brother of the murdered man that he has made a most extraordinary discovery in the library where the murder occurred. No, sir. I'm afraid I can't tell you about it now. Police secrets, aren't I right? You could call it that, sir. Well, I expect you will tell me in your own good time, won't you? I probably shall, sir. I probably shall. Well then, now I think Edmund Ward had better go home. Well, sir, was no harm in getting him home? I should think not. Yes, sir. Quite. I was wondering something. Yes, sir. And you at the war office in 15 minutes? Yes, sir. If I could persuade you to drive him home, you're quite through here for the moment, I fancy. You've made your extraordinary discovery. Yes, sir. Well then, I could lend you a car. I think we can spare enough petrol. It'd be an official business, sir. Oh, quite so. So it would, wouldn't it? You'll do it then, like a good chap. If I may make bold to ask you for a paper, sir? Naturally. Chit for tattle, boy. If I could borrow your car to drive me to the mortuary after I take Major Ward home. And breaking the news to Marjorie? Of course, sir. Well, I think so. Oh, I say, the mortuary. You wouldn't let me go there. This will also be official business, sir. Oh, of course, sir. Sorry I didn't think of that. Certainly you may use the car. I'll send it back by a police driver, sir. Oh, I'll have my man drive you, sir. I say, what do you call yourself? I mean, how does one address you, sergeant, lieutenant? Were you ever in the Army? Yes, sir. Oh, really? A sergeant? I was invalided out after Pashendale, sir. Oh, I'm so sorry, sergeant. I was a lieutenant colonel in the Royal Artillery, sir. Oh, oh, I say, I do beg your pardon, sir. That's quite all right. Forget it, Major. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I am ashamed to say I really did chuck my rank about just the slightest bit. I let Major Henry stand to attention a little longer than was absolutely necessary, and I let the other Major, the one who had been so grievously shell-shocked, ride in front with the driver. We arrived at Carling Hill and drove sedately up to the small cottage he occupied with his wife whenever he was home. We entered. The place was dark. My wife should be somewhere about. Marjorie, dear. Marjorie, are you asleep? Marjorie, we have a guest. I'm afraid she's asleep. I'll go see. Marjorie, she's not here. She's not? She's not here, you see? Down the light. There's nobody here. She may be in the other room. We have a very small place here. She's not here, either. Could she be at one of your neighbors? Well, there aren't any neighbors very near. I wonder where... Shall I help you look? Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I'll find her. She's about somewhere. That her hat there? Well, oh, yes, that's her hat. Well, then she must be here. Wait, I know what to do. Where are you going? That's your telephone, ma'am. Yes, but... who are you calling? Put me through to the nearest police station, please. No, no, no, don't do that. I can't have policemen running about. Inspector Greg of the CID here, Scotland Yard. I should want a police constable here at once, please. No, no, no, no, no, please. There is no necessity to have a policeman here. I'll find her. I'll find her. I don't want any big, flat-footed constable mucking about my life. Now, listen to me. Listen, I say you. Thank you very much. You'll be here in half a minute, Major. But I don't want anybody, I tell you. I'll wait a moment until he gets here. Now, where shall we look next, Major? The largest, the most truculent policeman I've ever seen, shortly appeared at the door, complete with manacles, lanterns, and an enormous truncheon. And I returned to the waiting car, whilst he and Major Ward began their search. Not with the exceptional grace on the part of the Major, I thought. I would have liked to remain, but I had an appointment with the police surgeon at the mortuary. The body of the dead Captain Dougal Henry lay on a white table, now in considerable deshabit. I sit down, invited the surgeon, and I sat down beside the late Captain. I wish I was a detective. You've got a better job. You chaps have someone to talk with. That's right, we do. Too many. Who shot this one? He didn't say. If he could, he probably would. Where'd he come from? Somebody'll catch it for shooting an army officer. He was in his brother's library with another chap. Who? A friend of his. Burglar came in and killed him. He didn't know the burglar? You know? You don't odd thing... About what? The burglar. What? Other fellow said he shot at him. Who shot at whom? Our chap shot at the burglar and missed him. Oh. An army officer, too. The burglar? No. This chap's friend. Lots of army officers can't shoot. And this one admitted it? That's unusual. In the library where this one was shot. Go on, Daddy. Six bullets from a service webby. Empty the cylinder. I saw it. What's so funny about that? I went into the library afterward. And? Not one of those six bullets was there. In the wall, or the floor, or anywhere. Webby revolver bullets? Yes. I found them. What? Here they are. These are webby bullets. Right. Where'd you get them? In the captain's body. Ah, there's only five here. Where's the six? In his tunic pocket. Here. How did he get there? Only one that didn't go into him. Flattened out against his cigarette case. See? Have one of the captain's cigarettes. Wood binds. No, thanks. I don't mind. I like wood binds. Blow it the other way. Look. I'm looking. Sure these bullets killed him? Positive. No other wounds on him? None. And answering the question you haven't asked yet? Yes. I'm practically certain they are from an army webby revolver. Saw enough of them when I was in the army. I'm sure too. I carried an army webby myself a long time. Sure enough. Sure enough to convince a jury? Well, no. You haven't got a case. Who's that? Come in. Is Inspector Greg of Scotland Yard here? Tell her no. No, madam. Who is she? Who are you, madam? Marjorie Ward. Marjorie Ward. Tell her to come here. I'm sorry. Will you come here, please, Mrs. Ward? Are you really Mrs. Ward? You're Inspector Greg. How did you get here? I found a taxi cab. You're a genius, madam. Where were you? How did you know where I was? How did you know who I was? Where were you? Give her a chance, Inspector. Answer me, please. I was in the cellar. Answer the rest of it, madam. The Inspector wants to know. I was in the cellar all the time. I heard you and Edmund. I heard the constable come in. He's the one who let me out. Let you out? I told him I had to see the Scotland yard man. And he said, who is that? Duke of Henry? He's his dad. Then Edmund did kill him. Oh, Duke. Don't please, madam. Be still. Why do you say your husband killed Captain Henry? He's the one that had the bullets and the weblet. He's the one that was with this poor blighter when the burglar... What are you talking about? What burglar? Is he? Yes, he's the one. Burglar? Your husband said he saw a burglar shoot Captain Henry. Where? At his brother's house. Robert's house? Robert Henry's. Where's the burglar? He ran away after the killing. Oh, poor Dougal. And your husband shot at him, but he missed. It was Dougal he shot at. There wasn't any burglar. Edmund murdered poor Dougal just as I said he would. Edmund murdered him. I know he did. You're very convincing, madam. But why should your husband shoot the man? Yes, why? They were friends. They were stupid idiots. Don't call names, please, madam. But Inspector Greg and I had grave doubts of your husband's story in as much as the bullets that killed the late lamented are undoubtedly from your husband's service revolver. But... But why? Why should he? Because my husband's crazy. Yes, he is. Long before he got shot, he was crazy. I can prove he's crazy. How? Come listen to me, whoever you are. There's a history of insanity in Edmund's family, but it's easy to prove. You have to prove him crazy, madam. Well then, look here. Look at my shoulders. Does a sane man beat his wife with a whip? But where? And look here at my arms. Better let me put something on there. This is what he gave me when he locked me up. But why should he lock you up? The man must be crazy. I've written statement that I was going to divorce him. And then he came home shell-shocked. Shell-shocked? He was buried alive. And I hadn't the heart to go through with the divorce. Poor Dougal came here to call. He was there talking to me. Not about the divorce at all. And Edmund came in. I went out of the room. Then after a while, Dougal left. Then Edmund came back and his eyes were blazing. He hit me with his riding prop and he swore at me. Accused me of all sorts of dreadful things with poor Dougal here. And Dougal was such a good friend of both of us. When I tried to reason with Edmund, he hit me again. This is the mark of that. There was nobody there except us. He screamed at me, threw me down the cellar stairs, screaming that he killed Dougal. He knew where Dougal was going to his brother's house. Edmund would kill him, then come back and murdered me because he said I was a... Say what he said I was. He slammed the cellar door and I could hear him raving and screaming. I'll shoot him. I'll murder him. I'll kill him. I'll kill him. And so he did. Poor old Dougal. You were the best friend Edmund and I ever had. He's killed you. And where is he now? Who? Your husband. He's still at home raving, I suppose. Where am I? Yes, my beloved wife. Yes, me. Hello there, Dougal, you. You. I did you in all right, old pal. And now... Oh, there you are, my tree. Stand up and be killed, dear. Made that silly great-over for Constable tell me where you'd gone and here I am. And I'm going to kill you. And you. And you. And you too, Dougal. Killed you once. I can do it again. He's got a gun. Didn't know I had another, huh? I'm in office, I got two guns. Quite enough for everybody. You first. I'm sorry, I don't seem to have any more bullets. Cartridges, I mean. Excuse me, Dougal, for not having any more cartridges, Mark III. I seem to have used them all up killing you. Excuse me, sir, is there something I could do for you? Edmund Ward. I arrest you on a charge of willful murder. Well, excuse me, sir. Sorry to beg your pardon, Dougal. Oh, champ. Here, here. I warn you that anything you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence. Major Edmund Ward was duly tried for murder and duly found guilty. He was, however, judged insane. And instead of the scaffold, he ended his days at Broadmoor. His wife got her divorce. Here today on Whitehall 1212, Horace Brayham as Inspector Greg, others in the order of their appearance, Harvey Hayes, Guy Spall, Lester Fletcher, Gerard Burke and Isabel Elson, Lionel Rico speaking. Whitehall 1212 is written and directed by Will Cooper. America is a country blessed with mountains and forests, woods and timberlands. But each year, thousands of acres of our forests are destroyed by fire. And these are acres of wealth and beauty that cannot be replaced. This is our most shameful waste, because most forest fires are caused by human carelessness. Today, this problem is more vital than ever, because forest fires destroy the natural resources upon which our nation