 Suspense. Produced, edited and directed by William Spear. This is the third in a special limited series of five Friday Night performances of suspense at this hour. Suspense is a compounded of mystery and suspicion and dangerous adventure. In this series are stories calculated to intrigue you, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation and then withhold the solution until the last possible moment. Tonight from Hollywood we bring you Mr. Dan Durier as star in The Man Who Couldn't Lose, a radio play by Emil C. Tepperman. We trust that with this tale. We shall once again keep you in suspense. Sure. Sure, I feel swell. You better not talk anymore though. Why not? I got nothing to worry about. That's what I'm telling you. Something's happened to me. I'm not scared. It's just like old man mostly said. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, well, it's happened to me. Something's happened to me that doesn't happen once in a hundred years. And it all happened in one day. Yeah, it began this morning. You try to kid me. You're not asleep. Get up. Sure, sure, sure. Okay. I cook your breakfast. I come home and cook your dinner. In between I work behind that counter all day until I'm so tired I can't hardly stand up. The least you can do is get up and drive me to work. Sure, I will. And what do you do? Nothing. I'll listen to the seniors. You don't call what you do work, I hope. When did you last sell an insurance policy? When? I'll bet you can't even remember. I'm sure I can. All right, all right. And when you do get up enough energy to sell one once in a while, I never see the money. Horses, sweet steak tickets, the numbers, anything just so long as you gamble it away. What do you ever bring a dollar for? Not that I ever hear anything about. Oh, shut up. Don't you tell me to shut up Leonard's mouth. I pay the rent when it gets paid. I pay the grocery bills. I pay for everything. You'd think at least I get a little appreciation once in a while. I appreciate it. I hear about it enough. Then why don't you do something about it? Listen, Celia, I don't feel so good today. Sure, that's what you always say every time anybody talks about work. But I'm sick and tired of it. You promised you were going to get a job this weekend. You're going to do it. Celia, there's something I got to tell you. I suppose you want to wheetle some money out of me again. Well, if you can't even keep a little lunch money in your pocket, I... No, listen, it's more than that. Oh, it is, is it? I suppose you got another hot tip on the races. Well, if you think I'm going to... Will you shut up? Hey, what's the matter with you? Listen, Celia, I've sold quite a few insurance policies in the last six months. Oh, you have, have you? Well, where's the money? Don't you try to pull that on me. You're going to get a job. All right. I spent the money. On the races? Yeah, only it wasn't all my money. What do you mean? I mean, I'm $1,800 short. And this is the last day to settle up my accounts with the company. You stole it. I thought I was going to get it back and make a killing. I had some tips that were supposed to be sure things. Oh, I get it. $1,800. Quite a coincidence, isn't it? All right. $1,750. What's the difference? And it just so happens that I have $1,800 in a safe deposit box that Aunt May left me this spring. Quite a coincidence. Celia, I got to get that money back to him today. Well, I don't believe a word of it. And you're not going to get that money. If I don't, they can send me to jail. And if I did believe you, you wouldn't get it. Maybe a few months in jail would teach you a little consideration. You know I got to have an operation sometime this fall. You think I want to go into a charity ward? And who'd pay the rent while I was sick? They can give me five years. You're just a little too cute, Mrs. Nell. You've had your eye on that money ever since you heard I got it. But you're not going to get it. Why do you think I wear the key to that safe deposit box around my neck? Celia? Suppose you think I haven't noticed. Now look, Celia. I suppose you think I don't know all those times you tried to get that chain off my neck when you thought I was asleep. Yeah, yeah, but... Well, I wasn't quite as sleepy as you thought, Mrs. Nell. All right. Celia? And don't you think you can wait a little out of me? Get away from me. Len! Take her out! I knew I'd have to do that to you someday. I bent over. She was dead all right. The key was on that little chain around her neck just like it had always been. I yanked on the chain, snapped. And the key came way in my hand. I shaved, got dressed, then I went through a purse. There was nine dollars and some change in the usual junk. And that sweepstake ticket made out in the name of I'm a winner. I put the money in my pocket, the ticket in my wallet. I'm all set to go now except for writing a letter. All of a sudden, I realize what I'm doing doesn't seem strange to me at all. It's like one of those dreams where you think it's all happened before sometime. I wrote to the police. I have killed my wife in a fit of anger. I can't go on living anymore after doing a thing like that to Celia. I'm short in my accounts too, so there's only one thing for me to do. Don't bother looking for me. By the time you get this letter, you can find me in the city morgue. Yours truly, Leonard Snell. Good morning, Mr. Marcy. Leonard, I've just had some great news. I knew you'd want to hear about it right away. Well, I'm in sort of a hurry this morning. All right, but wait till you hear this. You know that Pickle-Gasset die formula I've been working on? Yeah. Well, the government's just bought an option on it. They're going to try it out under factory conditions. And when they do, my boy, it'll be worth a million dollars. So what do you know? That's really great. Well, I guess I'd better be going on. So I decided to take out that annuity you've been trying to sell me. Got an application with you, have you? You... Oh. Yeah. Sure. Come on inside. Good morning. Why, my land, you look as though you'd just seen a ghost yourself. He just sold a policy. You don't sell them like that every day, do you, my boy? What's that first premium? About $3,400, isn't it? Yeah. Well, Leonard certainly deserves it. He works very hard. I see him coming home every evening with that briefcase and all those papers under his arm. Oh, I'm sure he works hard, but perhaps I'm a little more observant than you, dear. Oh, sit right down there, my boy. Okay. Watch out for those bottles behind you, though. That's Pickle-Gasset. What do you mean? You're more observant than I am. Most of those papers are in there, my boy. Okay. Oh. Watch out for those bottles behind you though. That's Pickle-Gasset. Most of those papers are the racing forms, aren't they, Leonard? Well, uh... You know, I've been watching you, Leonard. Yes, you've had a hard time, but you're a gambler. You believe a lot in luck. Well, sir, now I've got a theory about luck. When were you born? Oh, uh, March 1st, 1878. Yes, luck is something that can come in big doses sometimes. It's almost as though fate had planted out ahead of time. Who's the beneficiary? Oh, uh, my wife. Oh, that's so vivid. There's a perfectly good mathematical explanation for it, of course. Now, a number of unrelated events converge, and they all add up to the good fortune of a single man. Oh, happens once in a century, perhaps, but it doesn't. Um, you can, uh, make out the check... Oh, of course. Uh... Why don't I make it out to you personally, then I can collect that three-month's rent, show me, huh? Why, sure. Sure. That'll be, uh, $3255. Oh, fine, fine, fine. I'll make it out right. You know, Leonard, I was saying to Sam this morning, I'm almost as glad for your sake as for ours. My won't Celia be surprised. Huh? I said, won't Celia be surprised? Oh, yeah. Yeah. Say, where is Celia? She usually leaves work long before this. I always hear her. Well, she's, uh... Oh, Leonard, don't tell me there's anything wrong. I know she hasn't been feeling well lately. Oh, no, no, no. It's, uh... It's just a little headache, you know. Well, the poor thing. Why didn't you tell me I'd go right upstairs and fix her something? No. Uh... No, you better not. She told me she wanted to sleep. She's asleep now. Oh, well, then I-I-I won't bother her. Yeah. I'll go up around noon time. Maybe I can fix her a little something then. Well, uh, yeah, sure. Well, my boy, here's your check. Thanks. Now, don't play that on the races. Don't worry. But you keep playing your luck just the same. Our luck's a funny thing. You had a lucky start today. Maybe your luck's changed. Yeah. Yeah. Maybe it has. Why couldn't you have signed it yesterday? That's all I could think of for a couple of minutes. Why couldn't you have signed it yesterday? But it was done now. I get in the car and drive downtown. First, I go to Celia's bank. I get that $1,800 out of the deposit box. Nobody says a word. Then I drive over to Morsley's bank and cash his check. I've got over five grand now. That's pretty good for a guy that started out the day by being 1750 in the hole. I drive over towards the park. A clock in a jewelry store says 10-15. 10-15. That was plenty of time. I stop and give the once over to the bum sitting around on the benches in the sun. There's always a bunch of them there. Pretty soon I see a guy that looks about right. Hey, you. Me? Yeah. You want to make five bucks? You mean the job? You won't have to strain yourself. I just hurt my wrist and I can't drive. I got to go uptown a meter guy. You want to drive me? Oh, okay. You got a license? Yeah, I got a license. Let's see it. Okay. Omaha, Nebraska. You're going to belong away from home, aren't you? Yeah, but it's okay to drive within this state if you got a license driver with you. Okay, Floyd Eustis. You'll do. We get in the car and head uptown. My luck is holding. This guy couldn't have been better if I looked a week. I see another clock and it's only a little past 10-30 now. I still got lots of time. So I decide to clean up the details now. Oh, I don't. Okay. But turn right at the next block, Floyd. I want to go by the 43rd Street Post Office and mail a letter. Sure. Hey, you could mail it at a letter box, though. Yeah, but I don't want to mail it at a letter box. Oh. Okay. I go into the Post Office and get a stamp and mail a letter. It's a letter where I tell about Killin' Celia and it's just addressed to Police Commissioner 21 Center Street. Somehow, I just don't trust a letter box. Because if the police don't get that letter right on time, it's not so good. I go out and get in the car and I tell Floyd Eustis where to go. We head uptown. After a while, we get to Fort Tryon Park, right above Riverside Drive, looking over the river. It was hardly ever anybody up there at this time of year. So I felt pretty safe. And sure enough, there wasn't. I got the monkey wrench out and I had it in my hand. That's right. Oh, just pull over there, up against the rail. Gee. I never been up here. Hey, must be quite a drop down there, huh? A couple hundred feet, huh? Uh-huh. This where you're supposed to meet the guy? Yeah. Right here. I dragged him into the back seat and took off all his clothes, and then all mine. I changed clothes with him right down to the underwear and socks. I put all my papers in his pockets, my license, all men mostly's application, my wallet, the works. Then I dragged him up front again in the driver's seat. I propped him there with his arms through the wheel so his head would go through the windshield. I had to be sure they'd say it was me, nobody else. Then I put her in gear and let her go. This car just rolled off the power seats up there somehow and landed smack in the middle of the street. Gee, look at his face. He must have gone right through the windshield. Ah, poor fella. Identified him from his wallet, a guy named Snell. Leonard Snell. I was free. I was free a series on all of the bellyache. I was free to do anything I wanted. I had five grand in my pocket and the cops had Leonard Snell's body down on the morgue, just like I told them they would in the letter. My luck was holding but good. I went over to the 181st Street bus station. There was a bus leaving for Boston in 20 minutes. I bought a ticket. Then I got a paper on the corner, went into the lunch room and sat down at the counter. What's yours? Scrambled eggs with bacon. French fries, orange juice and coffee. And I got to catch a bus. It won't take long, will it? No longer than it takes an egg to scramble. Whoops. Excuse me. That's all right, Mac. I like to read a newspaper while I eat myself. Uh-huh. Kind of aids the digestion I find. Yeah. Mm-hmm. Here's your orange juice. Thanks. Some guys have all the luck, don't they? Huh? I said some guys have all the luck. I was just noticing a favor there about those Irish sweepstakes. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Some guys. Mr. Matty, you feel bad? I have all the luck. In two, somebody was swabbing my head with water. A payment check and get out of there somehow. Now look at the paper again. That's what it said, all right. I'm a winner draws favorite in Irish sweeps. My ticket. And it went on to say how it was worth at least 40,000. Maybe 150,000 if the horse won. All of a sudden, I was standing there in cursing and swearing at Celia, right out loud, just as though she was alive. Until I see some people are staring at me. And I stopped because if it hadn't been for her, I'd have 40,000 dollars. 40,000 dollars. And now, now that 40,000 was just a one-way ticket to the hot seat because that 40,000 belonged to Leonard Snell. And that Irish sweep ticket was in Leonard Snell's wallet. And Leonard Snell's wallet was in the pocket of that bomb that was supposed to be me. By now, the cops would have it along with the rest and Leonard Snell stuffed down at headquarters after they'd put the body in the morgue. If you've ever kissed off 40,000 dollars, you know how I felt. But what was the use? Well, I still have my five grand and a bus ticket to Boston. You can't get all the brakes all the time was what I figured then. So I got on the bus. Plenty seats in the rear. This seat taken? Wow, not at all. Sit right down. Thanks. Wow, wow. Somebody must be feeling pretty good this afternoon. Huh? The guy that's got the I'm-a-winner ticket in the sweeps. I see it says there they... They pay him 40,000 dollars for it right now. 40,000 dollars. Yeah. I'd sure like to be in his shoes, wouldn't you? Yeah. I see it says... Here. You want to read it? Well, you don't need to get sore. Give it. I... Holy... Board? All aboard. Hey, hey, stop it. Let me out of here. I can get out of here. Well, make up your mind. I don't have to make up my mind, brother. I don't have to make up my mind. It was right then I got the idea of what was happening. It was just like old man mostly said. It may only happen once in a hundred years. But it was happening to me. My luck was riding high. And when your luck is like that, you just can't lose. Because there it was. Writing a paper again on page three. Freak explosion in Brooklyn kills three. And it was my house. And the people killed were Morsley and his wife. And Celia. They thought it was caused by all Morsley's chemicals or something. I don't know and I didn't care. All I knew was they thought Celia had been killed by the explosion in the fire. And I was in the clear. I could walk into the police station and get my sweet steak ticket. You collect that 40,000 and it'd be set for life. I knew just what I was going to tell them. It was a lead pipe cinch. I was walking on air all the way to the police station. And I was going up the steps. And then I stopped. Because I just remembered something terrible. And if I'd remembered it ten seconds later, I'd have walked right into the electric chair. I remembered the letter. By mourning the cops that have that letter in my own handwriting. Over my own signature. Telling how I'd kill Celia. That letter that I'd taken all the trouble to mail at the 43rd street post office so I'd be sure to get off all right. I felt even worse this time than I had before. Because it seemed like I almost had that money right in my hands. I was pretty shaky. I went into a bar to get a drink. Here's who it'll be. Double shot. All right, sir. Little chaser on the side? No. That'll be a dollar each. Leave the bottle. Yes, sir. Two five minutes of the latest news. Hey, Charlie, turn that radio up, will you? Yeah, sure. One of the most daring hold-ups in the animals of New York crime, a gang of armed men this noon robbed the United States mail truck, just as it was leaving the 43rd street post office, removing eight sacks of mail, the entire morning collection of the post office. Apparently, the gunmen were after a shipment of currency destined for the Federal Reserve Bank. But according to officials, the joke is on the gangsters. All they got were not regular mail. Hey, you didn't pay me a damn. Boy, you got changed, you bastard. Keep the change. I knew what had happened now. I couldn't lose. I simply couldn't lose. Because those mugs that stuck up that mail truck had got my letter. Nothing in the world could stop me now. Officer, I've just been held up. Held up, huh? Yeah. Well, what happened? Well, I picked up a guy who asked me for a lift about 225th Street and Broadway. I was driving along by Van Cortland Park when suddenly he grabbed me. Then he hit me with something. That's all I remember until I woke up lying in the park. My car was gone. Then I found out that he'd taken my wallet, my money, everything. I see. What's your name? Leonard Snell. Leonard Snell. That's right. Oh, uh... Say, Lieutenant. Yes? This gentleman is Mr. Leonard Snell. He was held up this morning. His car was stolen. Oh. Uh, just step in here, will you, Mr. Snell? Well, sure. Sit down. Thanks. Uh, I've got some news for you, Mr. Snell. Did you find my car? Well, yes. The fella didn't get far. He drove off the cliff at Fort Tryon Park. He's dead. For a while, we thought it was you. But, uh, that wasn't what I was going to tell you. Well, what was it? Haven't seen the papers today. Not since this morning. What? I've got some good news and some bad news for you, Mr. Snell. Maybe I better tell you the bad news first. It's pretty bad. Go ahead. Your wife was killed this morning, Mr. Snell, in a fire at your home. My wife, Celia. And, uh, this probably won't interest you much under circumstances, Mr. Snell, but you've drawn a ticket worth $40,000 in the Irish Sweepstakes. Celia. Well, to win the Irish Sweepstakes and then lose your wife the same day, some people sure have all the hard luck in the world. Luck. Within about 15 minutes, more things were happening to me that could happen to most guys in a dozen lifetimes. And then comes the jackpot I've been waiting for. Well, hold it, Mr. Snell. Just hold that pose right there. Just one more now. Would you mind telling the public how you feel? Please, fellas. Please. I hate the trouble you at this time, Mr. Snell, but the etiquette I represent is prepared to offer you $40,000 in cash for your Sweepstake ticket. I've got the money right here in cash. All right. I don't care much about the money, though. Now. It's at $4.30. By six, I've got $45,000 in my pocket. Cash. And I'm registered at the Waldorf. And I'm sitting down to dinner. I'll take the plank steak, please. Medium. Yes, sir. Very short, sir. Hello, pal. Mind if I sit down? Uh, you a reporter? Not exactly. I'm a sort of a collector. You owe me $40,000, pal. I come to collect. Now. $40? I don't know you. Yes, you do, pal. Remember that little letter you wrote to the police commissioner this morning? That you mailed it to 43rd Street Post Office? Some friends of mine found it. They figure it's worth just about $40,000. You? You're one of the guys that stuck up the mail truck. You want to make something of it? There's a big reward. There's a cop right outside the hotel. They kind of figured who'd play ball. Where's the letter? My friend's got it right outside in the car. Still got that dough on you in cash like the paper said? Yes. Come on. All right. You're a pretty lucky guy at that, pal. I suppose somebody else had got that letter. Shh, shh, shh, shh. Don't worry, pal. Your secret is safe with me. Here's the card. I think you have. It's acting real reasonable, too. Get up to cash, pal. You recognize the letter, don't you? Here's your money. And here's your letter. At least don't try anything funny because we still know what that letter says. And the cops could always dig up the body and find out how your old lady really kicked off. Couldn't it? I think he gets the idea. So long, pal. Officer! Hey, you! You go call an ambulance. I'll stand by this man. What's up, Jerry? I just had a little match with those mail rushes. The other boy's got him down the street. This poor man was shot when he fired back. What's this letter? No, no, please. Police commision now. Police. You'd better open it. It might be evidence. No, no, no. No. You'd better put a guard on this fellow at the hospital, Jerry. Right, sir. From the looks of this letter, he's going to stand trial for murder. You'd better not talk anymore, Mr. Snell. What's the difference? What's the difference how much I talk? That's what I wanted to tell him. What if they did get the letter? I'll never go to trial. Because I got luck, don't you see? It comes once in a hundred years. And I got it. I got that kind of luck. And when you got that kind of luck, you can't lose. You can't lose. You can't lose. You still here? You know, I got a guard that fella Snell as long as he's here in the hospital. Yeah, but did you ever see the like of it? I don't suppose one man ever had so much luck in one day in the whole wide world. Well, I guess his luck is played out now, all right, though? Funny. He said you can't lose. Well, he's wrong. He's wrong there because that lad's going to fry just as sure as my name is Jerry Maloney. No. Now, you're wrong, Jerry. His luck is still good. Huh? He's dead. Suspense. This was presented and directed by William Spear. Tonight you heard Mr. Dan Durier as star of The Man Who Couldn't Lose. This was the third in a limited series of five Friday Night performances at this hour, which will present Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrill Suspense. Dan Durier will soon be seen in Black Bart and Universal International Picture. Appearing with Mr. Durier were Lucille Meredith, Kathy Lewis, John Nolan, John McIntyre, Elliot Lewis, Joseph Kearns, Jerry Hausner, Frank Albertson, Jack Krushen, Dick Ryan, Hans Conreed, Ed Max, Frank Goss, and Jack Webb. Music for Suspense is under the direction of Lud Blusken with original music composed by Lucian Morrowake. Next Friday, same time, Boris Karloff will be our star in a famous story by John Collier. Don't forget, next Friday, same time, listen to Suspense. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.