 Autolight and its 98,000 dealers bring you Mr. Lloyd Nolan in tonight's presentation of Suspense. Tonight, Autolight presents a true story of crime and punishment. The fame of this actual case rests with the singular qualities of its characters. The detective is no better than ordinary, and the killer is a man without a future. The story is called The Man With Two Faces. Our star, Mr. Lloyd Nolan. Hello, Mr. Wilcox. Hi, Sam, my friendly Autolight spark plug man. How's the advocate of those able, admirable, and advantageous Autolight spark plugs? Oh, I'm fine, Mr. Wilcox. You sure are, Sam, and that's why I tell car owners to bring their cars into you for a spark plug checkup. You know, Sam, that unless spark plugs are operating properly, you won't get the smooth and economical performance you expect from your car. It pays to have spark plugs checked every three to five thousand miles, Arlo. Right you are, Sam, and if cleaning or adjustments are needed, your friendly Autolight spark plug dealer has the latest equipment to give you the best spark plug service money can buy. And if he finds your spark plugs are worn out or wrong for your style of driving, your Autolight spark plug dealer will replace them with the world-famous, signature engineered Autolight spark plugs, either standard or resistor type. To locate him, look for the Autolight spark plug sign, or just phone Western Union by number and ask for Operator 25. She'll tell you the name of your nearest Autolight spark plug dealer. And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Autolight. And now Autolight presents The Man With Two Faces, the documented story of an actual crime starring Lloyd Nolan, hoping once again to keep you in suspense. They dug him up on my birthday. He was six feet tall and four feet under. It was just an accident. They were digging in a cellar and they found the buried packing case. They hauled it out and opened it. Inside the case, they found a steamer trunk. They opened that. He was jammed inside, doubled up his knees against his chest. All he had for company was a pile of quick lime. He was wearing a blue suit, a big smile and two holes in his skull. The best stress skeleton you ever saw. My name, Palacek Gus R. Detective Lieutenant Badge number 1416. I've been a cop for the city of Cleveland for 19 years. The last 14 of them have worked out a homicide. I'm not a chowder-hidden. I'm not a Sherlock Holmes. I'm strictly average. I try to make it with what I've got. If that doesn't do, they call for a smarter man. They should have had one around the day they dug up the skeleton. We completed our preliminary investigation at the spot where the packing case was uncovered. There wasn't much. I drove back downtown to check with a medical examiner. Hi, Sam. How's it going? Oh, hi, Gus. Happy birthday. Yeah, sure is. You about done with him? Just finished. Don't envy him. Find anything at all? No question it's a homicide. Where'd they dig him up, anyway? Basement of an empty building out on Euclid Avenue. Hey, by the way, how long would you say he's been dead? About three years. They had to dig him up on my birthday. There's a few things here that might help you. What's that? A possible description of the victim. It's only partial. I figured it out from the skeleton, size of the bones, general structure. What else? This piece of bridge work here. Put in a little legwork. You might find the dentist who made it. You go through the clothing? Here's the label that was sewed inside the coat. Custom tailors since 1885, 10th near Parkway. That's it. That at least three years. That's what I figured three years. Looks like a long hike for you, Gus. Let's hope it's not for nothing. As I say, masterminds don't run in our family. I have a tough enough time figuring a homicide that's three hours old, let alone one that's going on for three years. With me tracking a killer strictly hammer and saw work. I grab what I figure is the strongest lead and start hiking from there. The next day I checked with the custom tailors who had their label on the suit we find on the skeleton. This suit here? That's right. It's got your label on it. You remember who you sold it to? What's the matter? Is this some kind of a joke? I don't pound a pavement for less. What are you talking about? This isn't my suit. It's a fake. Huh? Okay, my whole life I never made a suit like this. It's a fake. Somebody took my label and sold it into a cheap store suit. You sure of that? Naturally I'm sure. Here. Look. Yeah? Look at how it's made. This is not hand stitching. It's stitching made by a machine. Cheap store suit. The label on the suit was an obvious plant, something the killer figured throws off the track. This being true, then why did he leave behind something as tell-tale as a piece of bridge work in the mouth of his victim? I had another talk with a medical examiner. We double-checked the victim's remains. I don't see what we're going to prove from this piece of bridge work. Say, what's the average number a teeth a man has? See? Full grown male? 32. Uh-huh. And how many did you count in the victim's mouth? 31. Only had one extraction. A molar, I could tell that. Oh, I see what you mean. Only one tooth pull. Yet he had a bridge loose in his mouth with four molars in it. That's 35 on my book. Yeah, three more than any normal man could possibly have. Yeah. But why would the killer plant a piece of bridge work? What for? When I find him, I'll ask him. That made two phony plants the killer had made. The piece of bridge work and the suit label. I looked for one more. I found it. The victim's hair had remained intact. It was dark brown and gray. I took a couple of specimens and had them checked. Someone's playing games, Gus. How do you mean, doc? The specimen of the dark brown hair. It's fine, silky texture. Uh-huh. Gray hair's thick, coarse. Big difference. Possibly could have come from the same head. Not a chance in the world. Three phony plants. The bridge work, the label and the hair. I began to wonder about the packing case and the steamer trunk the skeleton had been found in. The trunk was a cheap mass-produced item, three years worth of mildew, wrecked any chance of picking some kind of a lead from it. The packing case which contained the trunk was a little different. There was block lettering on one side of it. It spelled out the name of George Gallagher. Below that, it read Harrisburg Avenue, but where the street number would have been, the surface of the packing case had been scraped away. I started to work on a packing case angle. I had the manager of one of the factories in town that makes them look at the case. It wasn't standard size. It was a custom-made job, built to hold a murder trunk and nothing else. That's when the leg work began, weeks of it, months. February, March, April, May. I covered every factory that made packing cases for a hundred miles around. It got me nothing. I kept at it. June 5th. I checked the small box factory about 15 miles south of town. The manager's name was Higgins. Let's see now. I thought I recalled it. Well, here it is. The same dimensions I gave you, Mr. Higgins? Exactly. An odd-sized case. That's why I remembered it. Yeah, this is it all right. Did you take the order for it? No, Carl did. Carl Pearson. He was the other clerk. How do you mean he was? Carl's dad, who a fellow, sick for a long time and passed away three, four months ago. What do you have the name of the man who ordered the case, Mr. Higgins? Yeah, right here. It was George Gallagher. And you people delivered the packing case. That's right. Where? Harrisburg Avenue, number 6913. The first real break in six months had finally arrived. I felt pretty good about things on our way back to the city. The feeling didn't last long. When I got to the right block in Harrisburg Avenue, I found out that the delivery address for the packing case did not exist. 6913 Harrisburg Avenue was a vacant lot. I started canvassing every house in the neighborhood. No one had seen a packing case of any size delivered anywhere near the vacant lot. Took a week of climbing stairs pushing doorbells before I found a neighborhood gossip who claimed that she had seen the packing place delivered. Her name was Emma McKenzie. Well, yes, of course I remember it. I remember seeing it standing there that day. Standing where, Mrs. McKenzie? Well, right at the front of that empty lot down the street. Large packing case. Half of it blocking the sidewalk. Oh, certainly made me mad. Well, how do you mean, man? Oh, what made you mad? Well, there were a couple of nails sticking out of the case. And on my way to the store that afternoon, I happened to pass by it. My coat got caught on one of the nails. My good black coat. Oh, it made a terrible rick. I see. Yes. I turned to this young fellow standing next to the case, and I really told him. I remember very well. It was just last year. Excuse me, ma'am. You said last year? Yes, that's right. Happened about a year ago. Well, maybe a little longer. You're sure that it wasn't two or maybe three years ago? Oh, no, I remember distinctly. At the most, I'd say it couldn't have been more than, well, 14 or 15 months ago. Well, not this young fellow that was standing next to the packing case. You remember? You happen to remember what he looked like, ma'am? Well, not in any detail, no. He was tall, though, on the thin side, and he had buck teeth. I remember that. Use foul language. But how old would you say he was? Oh, not more than 28 or 30. How about his hair? You remember what color it was? Why, yes, it was blonde. When I finished talking to Mrs. Mackenzie, I didn't know where I stood. Either I was wrong about the killer's hair being dark brown or gray, or else there was more than one man mixed up in the homicide. And more important, the case was only one year old. So somewhere along the line, the medical examiner made a mistake, a big one. Maybe it was the quick line that threw him off. I don't know. The important thing was he was wrong. So the basement of the building wasn't vacant at the time the body was buried. I checked back with the owners of the building and found out that at the time it was occupied by a laundry that had since gone out of business, the White Star Laundry. The owner and manager turned out to be a Myron Wagner. I finally located him at his home in the south end of the city the night of the 4th of July. It was a big gray house set well back off the street. Wagner was an Austrian immigrant, pleasant, cooperative. I interviewed him in the dimly-lighted living room. It was a hot night. Outside you could hear the kids with their fireworks. What can I do for you, Lieutenant? There's just a couple of questions for you, Mr. Wagner. Try not to hold you up. Oh, that's all right. I'm not going any place. What is it you wanted to know? You owned and operated a laundry in the basement of a building downtown on Euclid Avenue. Is that right? Yes, that's right. We are out of business now, though, having for some time. You closed down about 12, 14 months ago? Yes, that's right. We didn't have much luck. I like a strange answer, Mr. Wagner. Did you ever know a young fellow by the name of George Gallagher? Mr. Wagner? Yes, I know the boy. I guess I should say I knew him. You tell me anything about him? Well, he came to me one day asking for a job. George did. I thought he was a nice-looking fellow. He was tall and blonde and clean-looking. I hired him as a night watchman in the laundry. He seemed to like the job. We got along fine together. Go ahead. Then one night I went back to the laundry to get my briefcase. There were some tax papers in it I wanted. After I got them, I went down to the basement to say good night to George. He met me on the stairs. He had a crazy look on his face. I didn't know what was wrong with him. I didn't know if he was drunk or what it was. What did he do? He screamed at me. Go back. Don't come any further. Come down here and I'll brain you. I got out as fast as I could. I thought he'd been drinking. You happen to see what he was doing down in the basement? No, no, no. He had a shovel in his hand. That's all I remember. All right. What happened? You fire him? I didn't have the chance. He left that night. He never came back. You remember about the body that was dug up from the basement? Yes. You think Gallagher's responsible? Don't know what else to think. I can never forget it. He came up the stairs toward me screaming at me, holding that shovel screaming and his hands. Yeah? Both his hands. Covered with blood. The light is bringing you Mr. Lloyd Nolan in The Man with Two Faces. Tonight's presentation in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills Suspense. Say, Harlow, you want smoother performance, quick starts, and double spark plug light? I sure do, Sam, and I know you're talking about the outstanding advantages of the Auto Light Resistor Spark Plug. The greatest advancement in spark plugs for automotive use in the past 20 years. I sure am, Harlow, because... Because the Auto Light Resistor Spark Plug is original equipment on many leading makes of our finest cars. And like the complete line of ignition engineered auto light spark plugs is famous throughout the world for quality and performance. And you get something extra with the Auto Light Resistor Spark Plug. And that's the exclusive Auto Light 10,000 ohm resistor built right into every Auto Light Resistor Spark Plug to make possible such extra advantages as smoother performance, quick starts, and double spark plug light. So friends, see your nearest Auto Light Spark Plug dealer. Have him check your spark plugs if replacements are needed. He'll install ignition engineered Auto Light Spark Plug, either standard or resistor type. And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light. And now, Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood sound stage Mr. Lloyd Nolan in Elliot Lewis' production of The Man with Two Faces. A true report, well calculated to keep you in suspense. I asked a Myron Wagner for another hour but I got nowhere. He was sure at the time and dated St. George Gallagher in the basement of the laundry and he was sure he'd seen blood all over Gallagher's hands. He couldn't give me any idea who the victim might have been and he didn't know a thing about Gallagher's possible whereabouts. I asked him why he didn't report it at the time and he told me he was afraid the bad publicity might hurt his laundry business. The porn shop in the downtown area that had loaned $20 on a watch to a George Gallagher almost 22 months before. The watch had never been redeemed. It had a name engraved on its back, Albert L. Henderson. The city directory had an A. L. Henderson listed at a Hanford Street address. I checked it out. A dark-haired woman who identified herself as Mrs. Henderson answered the door after the preliminaries I showed her the watch. Yes, my husband's watch. Where did you get that? Where's your husband now, Mrs. Henderson? Is he home? No, I don't know where he is. Well, when do you expect him home? Can you tell me that? Well, no, you see, he's gone. He's gotten some trouble. He ran away. When was this, ma'am? How long ago? Oh, about two years. Two years in November next month. He was partnerships in business. He stole the money. He ran away. Do you have any idea where he is now, Mrs. Henderson? You ever hear from him? No, never. No letters, nothing. Uh-huh. Who told you about your husband stealing the money, his business partner? Yes, Mr. Hoffman, Myron Hoffman. He's a nice man. Albert was lucky to have him for a partner. I don't know why he did that. Now, about this watch, Mrs. Henderson, did your husband ever pawn this watch at any time? What pawn? His watch? Oh, not Albert. That's the last thing he would let go. One thing I can't understand. Why didn't you ever make an attempt to find your husband? File a missing persons report. Why should I want to find him? Steve, no, good. Let him stay missing. I don't want to find him. This business partner of your husband, this Mr. Hoffman, where can I get in touch with him, you know? No, I guess I don't. He went away, I guess, I think a year ago, maybe longer. You got any idea where he might have gone? Well, I don't know. He thinks a talk a lot about New York City. I never asked him, but I thought that's where he came from. They were always talking about New York City, him and John. Who's John? That's Mr. Hoffman's nephew, John Müller. He worked for my husband and Mr. Hoffman in the business. Oh, I see. Well, I'd like to locate them if I could, ma'am. Can you describe Hoffman and his nephew for me, please? Well, I guess Mr. Hoffman was about 50, 52, gray hair about my height, five feet, six inches. His nephew John was tall, little ten maybe, long hair. He's a young fellow, about 30 years, I think. Now, you're sure of that description, are you? Oh, yes, they came here to the house for dinner a few times. Both John and Mr. Hoffman, I knew them. Would you give me a description of your husband? Albert? Well, he was a big man, as tall as the nephew John. Dark hair, gray eyes, 43 years old. He was a heavy man, 180 pounds, I think. Why do you want to know, officer? How about your husband's teeth, Mrs. Henderson? At the time he disappeared, did he still have his own? Oh, yes, Albert had wonderful teeth. Strong. Did he ever have one of his teeth pulled out, you know? Yes, just one. Why? I guess that does it. Does it? Well, this makes no sense. I don't think I like this. No, ma'am. I don't think Albert liked it either. The next day, we got out an all-points bulletin on Myron Hoffman and his nephew John Mueller, alias George Gallagher. We finally tied in the last piece of evidence. The day after I took a train for New York City, I spent the better part of a month there, legwork, phone calls, more legwork. It didn't go for nothing. December 13th, I took the train back to Cleveland. Next morning, I checked in with Captain Rogers in charge of homicide. How to check? How'd it go? Good trip? Eh, tired. I think we made the grade, Captain. What's the story? I got a novel. It's page one. Mr. Henderson's business partner, Myron Hoffman. He's from New York, all right. He's got a record there long as your arm. Bunko, forgery, narcotics, grand theft, robbery, everything but murder. Here's a collection of his mug shots. None of them too recent? No, I know. That's the only drawback. Last one taken 12 years ago. It's pretty interesting now. Here, take a look at those profile shots. Yeah. Left side of his face, how about that? Looks pious enough to pass for a saint. Huh, queer one. Put it next to his right profile shot of him. It's where it wasn't the same man. Looks like the worst thief in the world. Not a bad advantage. Saint in one side, thief in the other, two in one. Well, what does it mean? All right, let me lay out the rest of it. Now, this Hoffman's nephew, John Miller, he used that George Gallagher areas. Yeah. I found his sister. She hasn't seen her brother for three years. So I took a flyer. I got the name of Miller's dentist from his sister. Looked him up, showed him the bridge work. We took off the skeleton. He identified it. He made it for John Miller Gallagher five years ago. All right. Oh, where does that leave? I'm still guessing. Now, nobody gives up their bridge work, not without a struggle anyway. I think we got another body to look for. Yeah, fair guess. Hoffman and his nephew killed Henderson. Then Hoffman killed the nephew, took his bridge work, planted it on Henderson's body, and buried it. Anything to throw us off the track. That's my guess. The owner of the laundry, Myron Wagner, that story of his about the blonde kid, the shoveled blood on his hand, kind of makes a liar out of him, doesn't it? No big change. What do you mean? He was a liar long before we met him. December 15th, my birthday, one year, right to the day. I left the office, got in a car, and drove to the south end of the city. I pulled up in front of the same grey house, got out, and walked up the stairs to the front door. The name on the billed box was still the same, Myron J. Wagner. He answered the door himself, or she'd me into the same dimly lighted living room. He was calm, relaxed, perfectly at ease. It was very good of you to come, Lieutenant Palacek. The early evening, a good time to visit. Well, it's not a social call, Mr. Wagner. A few things I want to talk to you about. You want to get your hat and coat? My hat and my coat? What is it you mean? We want you downtown, Mr. Wagner. A couple of questions we'd like to ask. Questions? About the Gallagher boy. I told you everything the last time you were here, Lieutenant Palacek. Now look, Mr. Wagner, this happens to be my birthday. I got a family. I want to get home early tonight. I'll put it straight here. Put it straight? This is a road map. Now for a whole year, I've been pounding my feet east-west and south in the city and out of it. I'm not a smart cop, Mr. but I can still put one and one together. It adds up to you, Wagner. Now how about the hat and coat? It adds up to me, Lieutenant Palacek. I don't think I understand. Number one, your name's Myron Hoffman, not Myron Wagner. We've got your mug shot, your prints and exemplars of your handwriting from New York to prove it. Number two, you killed Albert Henderson and buried him in the basement of that building where you had your laundry. And besides that, it's odds on you killed your nephew, too. You assumed this or you have proof? Which one? 90% proof. Your hair, Wagner, I'll bet on it. Same kind that was planted on Henderson's body, same color, same texture. There's a bummed that, Mr. right from the start. Why'd you try? You... You want me to get my coat? Yeah, I'll go with you. Hey, uh... I'm just curious, Wagner. You want to turn on the overhead lights? Yes. All right. My face. Is that it? Learn. There are two sides to a face, Lieutenant. Look at both of them. You will find one of them is good. We better get your coat. Just one thing. My friend, Henderson, my nephew, John... Yeah? As you say, just as you say, a bummed bet. I tried it. I even tried. Hey, Wagner. What's the matter? Wagner! The deputy Karner got there a half an hour later. He ran a fast check on Wagner and he put his money on a heart attack. The autopsy confirmed it. Later on, I tried to explain what it was like, I mean, standing there and watching Wagner's life suddenly drop out of him. He turned his staff at the door and his hands went up to his chest. I reached for him, but not in time. He straightened out in the floor. That's when I noticed his face. The left side. The side that made him look like a saint. It was changing in front of my own eyes. The whole face, the whole side of it fading all into one. Like a thick brown stain over the skin. The same look as the right side of the face. Dirty, dark, twisted. It was all there. It was frozen into his eyes and his mouth. All the evil in the world in one face. What happened? I saw it with my own eyes. Suspense! A true story presented by AutoLite tonight star Mr. Lloyd Nolan. This is Harlow Wilcox speaking for AutoLite, world's largest independent manufacturer of automotive electrical equipment. AutoLite is proud to serve the greatest names in the industry. They are members of the AutoLite family as are the 98,000 AutoLite distributors and dealers in the United States and thousands more in Canada and throughout the world. Our family also includes the nearly 30,000 men and women in 28 great AutoLite plants from coast to coast and AutoLite plants in many foreign countries. Every AutoLite product is backed by constant research and precision built to the highest standards of quality and performance. With AutoLite, you're always right with AutoLite. Next week, the story about a group of brave men who risked their lives in a desperate effort to save their fellow men. The true story entitled Arctic Rescue, our star Mr. Joseph Cotton. That's next week on Suspense! Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with music by Lucian Morrowick and conducted by Ludblaskin. The man with two faces was adapted for suspense by James Moser from the recent book, Alan Hine's Murder. Featured in tonight's cast were Jeanette Nolan, Martha Wentworth, Tom Tully, Ralph Sidon, Joseph Kearns, Lou Merrill and Eddie Fields. Remember next week, Joseph Cotton in Arctic Rescue. You can buy AutoLite Resistor or standard type spark plugs, AutoLite staple batteries and AutoLite electrical parts at your neighborhood AutoLite dealers. Switch to AutoLite. Good night.