 Whitehall 1212. For the first time in history, Scotland Yard opened its official files to bring you the true stories of some of its most baffling cases. These are the true stories. The plain, unvarnished facts, just as they occurred, reenacted for you by an all-British cast. Only the names of the participants have for obvious reasons been changed. The broadcasts are presented with a full cooperation of Scotland Yard. Research on Whitehall 1212 is finished by Percy Hoskins of the London Daily Express. The stories for radio are written and directed by Willis Cooper. The voice you will now hear is that of Chief Superintendent John Davidson, custodian of Scotland Yard's famous black museum. Good afternoon. Police officials from every part of the civilized world come to see us here at New Scotland Yard. Many of them are old friends of ours, of course. There are few enough police forces with whom Scotland Yard has not been in contact. The surity of France, the American FBI, Canada's famous RCMP. We're all enlisted in the war against crime. And as the Bible says, state chapter of Ecclesiastes third verse, there is no discharge in that war. We have an interesting visitor with us today. He came to glance at the exhibits here in case number 202-131. I hear a doctor's instrument case and a pair of Charles Rompers. These with certain other objects, which were later given Christian burial, were important objects in that case. And our visitor is the man who had so much to do with solving the case. Captain Lionel Watt, the former chief constable of Lancaster. I must tell you at once that this was a matter for the Lancaster Constabulary and the police of Dumfrieshire in Scotland, purely let us say a local matter. No, Scotland Yard was not engaged in this case at all. Captain Watt and his people solved this most baffling case themselves. Yes, so far as I'm able to discover we have only one procedure that's precisely like Scotland Yards, John. And that is? We patronize the same hangman. Two miles north of the town of Moffat, which is in Dumfrieshire in Scotland, the main road from Carlyle to Edinburgh crosses the ravine where a small stream, Garden Home Lynn, runs to the river Anand through a remarkably peaceful countryside. On the morning of the 29th of September, some years ago, several crudely wrapped bundles were observed lying on the banks of the ravine below the road. One of the bundles protruded a naked human arm. The Dumfrieshire Constabulary naturally investigated. What they found added up to confusion as well as to horror. I was in the Moffat police station when their sergeant Barnes made his first report. Four bundles, one wrapped in the Daily Herald, the London Labourite newspaper for 5th August this year, the second wrapped in a pillow slip, the third in a portion of cotton sheeting, and the fourth in another piece of sheeting tied up with what appears to be the hem torn from the sheet. All the bundles contained pieces of people to which straw was adhering, and a large quantity of cotton wool also. Quite neat. As nearly as we can tell, there are parts of at least two bodies that's impossible at present to identify them. It's impossible even to determine the sex of the bodies or their approximate ages. By the appearance of the bodies, the medical officer thinks that they have been dead about two weeks, but he doesn't know for certain. He's sorting them out now. During the week, other parcels were discovered along the course of Garden Home Lynn and along the banks of the River Annan all on the Scotty side of the border, outside my bailiwick. These parcels, which also contain portions of human bodies, were wrapped in pages of the Sunday graphic for the 15th of September, and in pages of other newspapers unidentifiable because of bloodstains. I had a telephone call. Sergeant Barnes speaking at Moffat, sir. Oh, hello, Sergeant. What's up? We don't think our friends are Scottish, sir. What, sir? Don't think they're Scottish. What friends? What? They're dead people, sir. Think they're Scottish folk. Well, that's quite a statement, Sergeant, when you can't even tell whether they're male or female. Well, sir, we've been making inquiries ever since the first parcel was found. And according to our records, there hasn't been anybody missing in Dumfriesshire in 11 years who's not accounted for. Well, that doesn't prove that the... There was a carnival at Moffat... Well, what's that got to do with it? London, sir. And they printed a special edition of slip sheets with pictures of the Morkham Carnival. Oh, yes, yes, that's right. They printed 5,370 copies. And it was all sold with a Sunday herald of 15th September, either in Morkham, which is right alongside you, or in Lancaster, which is where you are, sir. Are you mind telling me what all this has got to do with your latest discoveries, Sergeant? The latest discoveries was wrapped up in those special pages, sir. I had once put our people on to their missing persons lists to discover what missing persons have been reported about the 15th of September who had not yet been found. From Morkham, sir, nobody missing since September 11th before season closed at Seaside. Two persons tripped us from York missing on that day, but bodies were recovered on following day. Both were grounded. That's all, sir. How about Lancaster? None unaccounted for within the specified period, sir. Unless you want to count this one, though she's not really missing... Who? Name... Maggy Rowlandson, maid servant. She's not been officially reported missing. But her stepfather's been around mumbling about a complaint. What about? Well, sir, it's one of them there things. The girl went away with her mistress and they haven't come back, that's all. Where'd they go? Edinburgh husband says, sir. Oh, she's married. Mistress' husband. Well, it's time to make the wife send the girl back. I did, sir, and he wrote, but he hasn't had any reply yet. I gather the wife got fed up with them and walked out, taking the maid along for company. They'll be back. That all? That's all, sir. Well, keep on checking up on missing persons. Though what can be done, I'm sure I don't know. No, sir. I think that sergeant over there at Moffat's is daft. Anyone could have got hold of a copy of that special edition of The Herald? Yes, sir. It's his affair. Let him work it out his way. We've blended the two. Yes, sir. Well, thanks very much anyway. Keep your eyes open. Yes, sir. Oh, I say, uh... I suppose it is our job to check up on things. Yes, sir, that's right. Whether it makes much sense or not. What's this chap's name whose wife's gone? Well, I'll have a chat with him and see what can be done about getting this girl back to her parents. That chance, I expect. Name's Dr. John Huckins, sir. Two dot and square. What's his name? Hindu or Parsi or something, I think, sir. Well, I'll go see the blighter on my way. It's quite all right. Go ahead. What here? What here? Sir, this is Sergeant Barnes at Moffat over in Dumfriesshire. Hello, Barnes. We're almost certain now, sir, about their bodies. Certain? Well, what did you find out? Well, sir, there's two professors of forensic medicine staying here at the hotel in Moffat from Glasgow University, sir. Then you'll be able to identify them. I was going to tell you I haven't found any persons missing here so your theory is... Not missing persons, sir. What did you say? Women. I felt rather a fool about doing it. But my conscience, if that's who it was, kept mumbling in my ear about leaving no stone unturned. So I stopped my car as near to the door of two Dalton places I could and went to call on Dr. John Huckins. The bell was apparently out of order. It was a good five minutes before my pounding on the door was answered. Terrone tone, sir. Oh, isn't he? He's committed an operation on an impacted wisdom tooth, sir. Oh, then he's a dentist. Lysentiation Dentistry University of Bombay, sir. I thought he was a doctor. Bachelor of Medicine University, a look now, sir. He's an Indian. A Parsi, sir. Whatever that is. I'll be back to you quite late, sir. I'm not to take any appointments for him for the day. Are you the... I'm the child woman. Well, I'm very anxious to see the doctor. I'm Captain What? Mrs. Music. Mrs. Pamela Music. Huh? Who? That's my name, sir. Oh, oh. Well, I was quite anxious to see the doctor. Well, I'm in the doctor's confidence, sir. If there was anything... I am Chief Constable of Lancaster, Mrs. Music. What's he done, sir? Nothing so far as I know. Well, then what do you want to see him about? Well, I'm afraid that's my business and his, my dear madam. Madam, may I? You want to ask him about his wife. Don't you, sir? I wonder if you could tell me anything about him. I'm afraid that's his business and mine, my dear sir. Will you tell the doctor, please, that I'd be glad if he'd get in touch with me at the town hall, my office? As Mrs. I and mighty Dr. Rack, he've been making trouble. Why should she make trouble? Oh, she's made plenty before. No, it's not my affair, I'm sure. What's she want now, sir? I'm afraid I should have to discuss that with the doctor if you'll be good enough to tell him as I call, please. Yes, sir. Uh, would you know where Mrs. Harkim is at present? I do not. Does the doctor know? Well, of course he knows. Do you know if Madgie Rowlandson is with her, the maid? Well, I know she should be right here. Doing her share of this work, the lazy... Well... How long has she been gone? Oh, since that Sunday the carnival at Morkham closed. The 15th of September. I think it was. They'd been to Morkham that Saturday night for the last day of it. Mrs. Harkim and the maid. And the doctor told me when I come to work on Monday that Mrs. had walked out on Sunday morning, taken Madgie with her. This is the longest time she's been away. This has happened before. Where does she usually go? She's got a sister in Edinburgh. She visits... What's her name? Mrs. Alexander MacArthur. Darlin' Edie. She's a twin of Mrs. Harkim and I don't like her. Poor dear doctor. I hope she don't never come back this time. You'll be better off. Why? Nag, nag, nag. And her that used to be a ball maid right here in town before he met her. And here meeting his art out for her. Oh, well, you'll excuse me, sir, but I've got to get back to work. I'll tell the doctor you're called, but don't you tell him what I've said, and I'll mind you, sir. Here, now. Give us a hand with this carpet before you go, huh? Express message dispatched to the Edinburgh Police by Chief Constable Lionel Watt of Lancaster. First urgently request you make contact with Mrs. Alexander MacArthur, Edinburgh, requesting having her sister, Mrs. John Harkim, at this city, get in touch with me at once. Also discover whether Mrs. Harkim's maid servant, Maggie Rowlinson, is there with her. Information most urgently desired. Watt, Chief Constable Lancaster. Sergeant Barnes of Moffat Telephony. Sergeant Barnes here, sir. Oh, good morning, Sergeant. Good morning. We found two women who seem to be missing. Yes, Sergeant, but further enquiry has discovered them for us. They're visiting in Edinburgh, that's all. You had any luck? I seemed quite delighted with what they've accomplished. Putting the bodies back together. Bodies? You should have seen them, sir. I did, thanks. Any clues? They said... Red hair. Yes, sir. What's that mean, Barnes? It's an old job, too, sir. It's as neat as if a doctor or a surgeon has done it. Dr. Fairley says... Dr. Harkim, sir. What? Dr. Harkim's here. Oh, I haven't come in, please. What do you see, sir? I've got a visitor, Barnes. Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I'll talk to you later. Goodbye. Goodbye, sir. Well, sir. You are Chief Constable Watt, isn't it? I am, sir. I want to know... I want to know what you mean, sir, by persecuting me. Answer me. Why, my dear sir, nobody's persecuting you. You have appeared at my office in my absence-making enquiries, which I am resenting very much indeed. And I demand that they be stopped. My dear man. I am a reputable doctor, sir. A surgeon I will not have policemen coming to my office. I came to your home, sir. It is also my office and surgery. You are thinking that I have some guilty knowledge of my wife's whereabouts, and that little runny hermaid, isn't it? There's no call to be quite so belligerent, Dr. Harkim. I shall be as belligerent as I please, sir, when my rights are invaded. Now, look here, Dr. Harkim. I am not going to be put on the defensive by you at all. You may as well understand that. Now, I'm sure that you're aware that I'm following up a legitimate inquiry concerning the whereabouts of your maid, Magi- You have no right to question my servants. My dear sir, I have a right to question anyone who might be able to contribute information. You know that that, Mrs. Musical Talk. I am not acquainted with Mrs. Music's proclivities, sir. Now that you are here in my office, I ask you what information you can give me about the Rowlandson woman. I can give you none. She accompanied my wife to Glasgow. Probably, she is still there with her. I thought you said that your wife went to Edinburgh. Edinburgh, I mean. I can't keep these stupid Scottish, the English, sir. These Scottish, I can't remember them. I do. Has your wife left you, doctor? I will not tell you. You have a reason for refusing to answer, I take it. I have. You will be telling it all over the city and my practice will be ruined. I know how you police operate. I don't trust you. That's a very extraordinary attitude. It is the attitude which I choose to take. You will stop meddling with my affairs, sir. Look here, Dr. Huckim. I... Dr. Huckim. I... I have no interest for the moment in the reasons for your wife's having left you. But... I'll tell you why she left me. She left me for another man. I said I have no interest in her reasons, sir, at the moment. I'm being disgraced. I am being ruined by this scandal. My practice... I should be ruined. Now you please come around so that all the neighbors may see. It is inexcusable. Oh, control yourself, sir. I'm interested in finding Maggie Rollinson for her parents. She is with my wife in Glasgow, Edinburgh. Is she? Of course I told you so. Now will you do something to end this persecution? I've told you there is no persecution, doctor. Will you put a notice in the papers that I had nothing to do with my wife's leaving me? Will you swear? You're being silly, doctor. No, no, you are ruining my practice. I don't believe so. I demand that you give out a statement to the public that I know nothing at all about this. Except that you know where your wife and Miss Rollinson are. Will you give me a statement, sir? Dr. Huckim. Dr. Huckim, when I'm thoroughly convinced that you have no connection with either your wife's going away nor have Miss Rollinson's unexplained departure... I had nothing to do with either of them. My wife left me and took Maggie with her. When I'm thoroughly convinced of that, doctor, I'd be glad to say so to any of your patients, present or prospective, that you care for sending. How dare you? Until then, if I need you, I shall send for you. Good day, sir. You are persecuting me because I am an Indian, isn't it? You are being offensive, sir. I see you think you are a great big superhero, Englishman and so on. Therefore, you can say... What do you want? Sergeant, show Dr. Huckim the exit, please. Yes, sir. Will you come this way? I will not come this way. I want justice. I will stay here until... All right, all right, all right. I'm coming. You're bigger than I am. You're English. You're too... fully... Exit such way, sir. Ratty little brute. Oh, hello. Put me through to Sergeant Barnes over in Moffat in Dumfreyshire. Please. Quite. Dumfreyshire is in Scotland. Right. Are you gone, sir? Oh, excuse me, sir. I had this express message for you when you rang for me. From Edinburgh. Oh, thank you. Yes, sir. Yes, I went. Edinburgh. Barnes here. Oh, oh, Sergeant Barnes. What here? I was just calling to tell you that... First of all, have you heard anything more in the way of clues? You were starting to tell me. It's just that we've heard of child's rompers, sir. Rompers? Yes, sir. Old rags, a bit of sheeting. But this, it appears to be a part of a left leg was wrapped up in these kid's rompers. That's all. So if that'll help me... What did you find out, sir? Well, I had this chap in here and a remarkably unpleasant little man. He confirms that both of our so-called missing women are safe in Edinburgh. So I'm afraid that your Lancaster theory rather collapses. What? No, I think not. As a matter of fact, I've just had an expressed message from the Edinburgh police. I'll read it to you. Half a second. Chief Constable, et cetera, et cetera, that's me. What did they say, sir? Well, I'm afraid I gave it back rather too quickly, Sergeant. You what, sir? Here's the message from Edinburgh. Subject person has been contacted. Sass has not seen subject of inquiry, Mrs. Hakeem, since last New Year's Day in Lancaster. Has never seen subject, Maggie Rowlandson. Hodgson, Edinburgh Police. What did you say, Sergeant? I said, I wish you luck, sir. It's raining quite hard when I arrive full of beans at the door of No. 2 Dalton Square to demand explanations from the little doctor. I thumped the door vigorously, and after a suitable period of time, it opened. The doctor I did. Oh, it's you, Constable. Where is he, Mrs. Music? Out, sir. Call it on patience. He certainly did give me what for. May I come in out of the rain, please? Well, if you must, sir. Thank you. Wife, your boots on the mat. It's mucky enough in here anyway, as though Lord knows I try to keep it tidy. What do you want now? She ain't here. Neither one of them, dear. Neither Mrs. Hakeem nor Maggie, what's her name, Rowlandson? Nor the doctor. Now, what did you want, sir? He ain't here. Very important that I see him. Where'd you expect I might find him? Or when will he be back? That's the way I got into trouble the other day, answering questions. Now, look here, Mrs. Music. He says it ain't good for business. He said if I'm done it again, I'll lose my situation, and I'm not going to lose my situation. If you'll just tell me when the doctor will be back, Mrs. Music. He'll be back tonight. He's going to have two with the children. What children? Oh. Oh, it's raining. Well, that'll be good for the carpets. Carpets? Oh, now you do ask questions, don't you? What children? They're doctors. They're staying with Dr. Mattoon and his wife since the Mrs. went away. That's why the carpets are soaking in the rain. Mrs. Music, will you please... To wash the blood out of them. What blood? It's been on them ever since the day she went away, and I don't know any way to get it out, so I'm soaking them in the rain. Whose blood? Whose blood is it, I mean? Yeah, there was blood all over the surgery and on the stair carpet. You helped me out with the stair carpet yesterday, for which I'll thank you, sir. Whose blood? That ain't no treat around here, sir. The doctor's always cutting people up, committing operations and all. Whose blood, I suppose? Oh, you needn't yell at me. I can hear all right. Why is, of course... His? The doctor's? Of course. How did his blood get all... When I come to work that Monday morning, he told me the Mrs. had run away from him, so he took the kids to stay with Mrs. Mack, too, like I said before. And when he come back, he tried to open a tin of peaches for his breakfast, and he cut his hand dreadful on the tin opener. Didn't you see it was still bandaged up? Yeah, yeah. There was blood everywhere he placed in the house, on the rug, on his wear skittles. He bled a lot. You wouldn't think one person could bleed so much and still walk about. Who dressed his hand? He dressed it himself. He wouldn't even let me put Zamba on it. He's very accomplished, sir. Oh, dear me. What's the matter? Oh, I know he'd forget to take them. You see? What are those things? Oh, I told him he'd forget them. Now, what are those poor kiddies going to do with them? What are they? Rompers. Don't you recognize rompers? Haven't you got any kiddies? I told him to take them. Who's are they? All except that one pair that belonged to young Alan. I don't know how anybody could lose a pair of rompers. Is there a telephone here, Mrs. Music? There's the surgery there, but I'm not sure the doctor was... There's half a crown. Say nothing about it. No music. That red bow tie he's been wanting. In here, Mrs. Music. It's his birthday, Wednesday. What'd you say? Oh, yes, it's a nurse, sir. Thank you. Uh, one more question, Mrs. Music. What color hair did Maggie Rowlandson have? Hair, sir? Oh, she's got ginger hair. Real part red. Thank you, Mrs. Music. This is Chief Constable Watt. Put me through to Sergeant Barnes at the Moffat police station. Quickly, do you hear? It was eight o'clock in the evening when Sergeant Barnes arrived at Two Dalton Place. I'd urged Mrs. Music to wait. Come in, Barnes, I said. Did you bring them? Yes, sir. They're right here. What on earth? Know what these are, Mrs. Music? Well, of course I do. Why'd you get them all bloody lightless? If they have blood on everything... What are they? Why, then, little Alan's romp is that was lost. How do you know? Well, right there. The patch are so dumb, Miss Self, out of Music's Anderson Gingham shirt. Of course I know. Where'd you get them? Oh, I've Miss Maggie Rowlandson had them. You gentlemen, you can... Mrs. Music, are you here? Yes, sir, I'm here. I'm here also, Dr. Huckim. Now, what are you wanting in my house? I want to see you, sir. And may I know who you are, please? I'm Sergeant Barnes of the Dumfrieshire Constabulary, sir. I want to see you, too. Now, look here. What is this? I found little Alan's romp is that was lost, doctor. Aren't you glad? No, I don't think he's very glad, Mrs. Music. Doctor, may I look at that bandaged hand where you cut it on the tin opener and where you bled so profusely? Stand away from me. Stand away from me, I tell you. Hold his hand, Barnes. Yes, sir. Don't touch my hand. Let go. I'll be quite gentle, doctor, but I've got to get that bandaged off. There's no blood here. Now, there. Look, Barnes. Yes, sir. Yes, doctor. Where did all the blood come from? Johanga, Sorabic, Huckim, Alias, Dr. John Huckim, I arrest you for the murder of your common law wife and of Magy Rollinson. And I warn you that anything you say will be taken down in writing. It may be used in evidence. He admitted it, finally. He had murdered his wife in a fit of insane rage when he discovered that she had met quite innocently, incidentally the man of whom he was insanely jealous, though without any cause, whatever. The maid Magy Rollinson was killed in an attempt to defend her mistress. In one day, the murders had been committed on Saturday night. He had dissected the bodies, removed all means of identification, and at night had scattered the neatly wrapped parcels covering the bodies from the bridge on the Edinburgh Road. The two professors from the university were able to reassemble the mangled bits to such an extent that there was no question of their identity at last. Dr. Huckim, which was not his name, was tried for murder at Manchester Assizes and found guilty. He was hanged at Strangeways prison three weeks later. Same hang on the works for Scott and Yard officiated. Paired in the honor of their appearance on Whitehall 1212 today were Harvey Hayes, Horace Brayham, Pat O'Malley, Lester Fletcher, Patricia Courtley, and Morris Delamore, Lionel Rico speaking. Whitehall 1212 is written and directed by Willis Cooper. As individuals, we can't solve all of the problems of international strife and tension. But as individuals, we can declare ourselves on the side of friendship and goodwill. The best way to express your goodwill is through CARE, C-A-R-E, the non-profit international organization that delivers food and clothing packages to the needy in other lands. For complete information, get it at CARE offices throughout the nation. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.