 Suspends, as the man in black here again to introduce Columbia's program. Suspends. From Hollywood tonight, we bring you the noted British actor, Mr. Edmund Gwynne, a star of an unusual murder study by his distinguished compatriot, Miss Dorothy Sayers. The story called The Fountain Plays is tonight's tale of suspense. Currently appearing in the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer technical production Lassie Come Home, following such successes as foreign correspondent on the stage plays The Wookie and The Three Sisters, it is Mr. Gwynne's particular pleasure to embody on the stage in the screen the eternal middle-class Englishman, the common man of Britain and proud of it. The character Mr. Gwynne portrays in our play tonight Mr. Archibald Spiller, conservative John Bull that he may be, has lately had a bit of luck. Mr. Spiller lives on a little country estate with a cook and a man servant and in the garden, yes, a fountain. Of all these little luxuries, it is the fountain which pleases him the most. An interesting sort of hobby for such a man, a fountain, perhaps more interesting than even Mr. Spiller himself realized at the beginning of that memorable evening. These events were really quite unusual and with their publication and with the performance of Mr. Edmund Gwynne as Archie Spiller, we again hope to keep you in suspense. The Fountain Plays Do I get it or don't I? That's what I want to know. And if I don't, please, please, my guests are arriving. I'll talk to you tonight. You'd better talk straight to me. It'll be your last chance, Miller. Hello, hello there, everybody. It's just in time for a cocktail. Come in, come in. Master said we'd find you here, Daddy. I hope we're not interrupting. Certainly not, certainly not. You know Mr. Gooch, don't you mind, dear? Of course. And this is my neighbor, Mrs. Digby, Mr. Gooch. How do you do, Mr. Gooch? I'm Ronald Prowford, my daughter's fiancee. How do you do, sir? I did, yes. Do help yourselves, everybody. You'll find all the fixings right there on the stone setting. Oh, there you are. Betty, you play hostess, will you, dear? I'll take mine neat. I'm just showing Mr. Gooch the wonders of my little fountain. Oh, Daddy, you do make such a fuss over that fountain. Oh, leave it so. I always say there's nothing quite like a bit of ornamental water to set a place off. Sort of like the Versailles Gardens, what? Oh, it's really lovely, Mr. Spiller. And so secluded with the Rhododendrons and the lilac hedge all around. Ah, you like that, eh? You know, I was thinking of cutting out some of these lilacs. Oh, I wouldn't... Well, to make a vista, so to speak. You can't even see it from the house with these bushes on all four sides. Well, now, perhaps that might add something. But if you like the lilacs, Mrs. Digby, the lilacs shall stay. Oh, Mr. Spiller. I know authority, I'm sure. Well, if you want an authority, I'd say it's a mess. Plus, a backstop and all. A mess, see? A mess? Yes, a mess. Oh, maybe Mr. Gouch means, uh, the way the backstop arches up above the strait. It'd rather overshadows it. Oh, have to have that, you know, my dear. Provelling winds from the south. It blows the jet of water right out onto the grass. If it weren't for that backstop, I'd have a regular swamp over there, wasteful too. Well, I'm glad I know that. You always were a fool, aren't you, squandering money on a fountain? Oh, no, no, no indeed. It uses the same water over and over again. It's like the ones in Trafalgar Square, you know. Most ingenious, really. Why, isn't that a wonderful idea? Well, I have to be careful, of course, even so. I turn it off every night to save leakage and waste and so on. Same old, Spiller. A proper miser if ever there was one. Oh, I say now. Mr. Spiller, sir. Yeah? A generous, uh... Oh, thank you, master, thank you. What would you say? Everybody ready for a bit of dinner? Hey, are you going then, shall we? Come on, let's go in there. I got it, I got it, you can get some of that. A little fountain. When you're past the bushes, by all at once you can scarcely hear it at all. Yes, quite impossible to hear it from the house. Can't hear it at all. Another glass of port, won't you have one here? What is it, masters? Will that be all then, sir? Yes, thank you, masters, yes. Excellent dinner. My compliments to the cook, please. Yes, sir. And the coffee and the drawing. Very good, sir. Well, shall we adjourn? Shall we what? Adjourn. Going to the drawing room, what? Quite a tough you've become, eh, Archie? Big change from the old days. Adjourn to the drawing room. Yes, yes. Well, we'll all have a spot of coffee now, eh? Coffee? Is that the best you've got to offer? Oh, no, by no means. Have anything you like, old man. That's better. What would you think, Mr. Spiller, about a rubber or two of bridge? Oh, excellent suggestions. Splendid. That's a good thing I don't play, eh, Archie? I see I'm counted up before we start. Oh, Mr. Gulch, I'm so sorry. Do take my place. I'm really, very tired. No thanks. We didn't play bridge where I come from, and neither did Archie. Although I see he picked it up quick enough once he... Well, it's never too late to learn, you know. I've got better ways than that to spend my time when I visit an old pal. Where's that fellow, masters? Was there something you wished, sir? Oh, take the whiskey and soda down by that fountain. Whiskey and moonlight and jolly old fountain. That's the proper way to spend an evening, eh, Milan? Uh, quite, sir. Mind you, bring the full decanter. One drinks only a starter for a chap like yours truly. Very good, sir. Oh, while I'm at it, better take a few of the easier coronas. Only the best for your old pal, say, Archie. Yes, yes. See you folks later. See you later on. Oh, Mr. Digby, should it be you and me against the youngsters? Daddy. Yes, tell? Will you tell me why you put up with that man? Gooch? Oh, come. He's not a bad sort, really. I had to drop too much this evening, perhaps. He always has a drop too much, and he is a bad sort. He's a rude, unpleasant, terrible man. Well, old friend, you know, not much a chap can do. Oh, daddy, you're so soft-hearted, but if you can't do anything, I can. Now, please, dear, please. He'll be gone in a day or two. My time. What does he mean talking to you that way in your own home? Shall we cut for deal? Yes, shall I, um... Well, I don't care. You shan't put me off. This is the last time that man is going to come into this house. There you are. Game and rubber. I guess the old folks aren't so slow after all, eh, perfect? Now, don't get daddy all puffed up. You did have all the car. Oh, not a bit of it. Jollywell played, sir. Play one more? Oh, I'm afraid not. I don't want to put a damper on the party. That is 10.30. My word so it tears. Last hour or so passed in no time. Oh, that's probably because we were spared the company of the charming Mr. Gooch. Oh, wonder where he is. I could guess. He said he was going out by the fountain. Dead to the world. That's what he is. Why, Betty? Oh, from drinks, silly. Oh, of course. Well, I'm not superstitious, you know, but... Oh, Gooch will take care of himself, I dare say. When will this digby if you really must? I'm afraid I really must. Well, then perhaps I can see you home. Well, if it wouldn't be inconvenient. Well, not a bit of it. It's a pleasure I've been looking forward to all the evening. Oh, yeah. It's been such a lovely evening, Mr. Spinner. Yeah, you know, I've been thinking I'm awfully lucky to have found a neighbor like you at my time of life, I mean. Maybe it's not luck at all. It's fate, you mean? May I, Mrs. Digby? Hmm? Or may I? May I call you Rosalind? Oh, of course. And you call me Archibald, eh? Silly name, but it's the only one I've got there. All right. You know, it was true what I said tonight that the place will be needing a new hostess soon. With Betty getting married, you mean? You must be very happy for her. I am, I am, but what I mean is I mean that, well, we're both alone in the world now, and... Yes? Rosalind, there's something I want to talk to you about soon. I can't just now. There are arrangements I have to make, but I do want to talk to you really seriously. Well, I'll always be here, you know. But it's late now. Yes, yes, it is. Good night, Rosalind. It has been a lovely evening. Good night, Archibald. Hello, Masters. Tell me, where's everybody? Mr. Ronald left five or ten minutes since, sir, and Miss Elizabeth has retired. Well, has Mr. Gooch come in yet? I couldn't say, sir. Shall I go to see him? No, no, no, never mind. You can cut along to bed now. I'll lock up. Very good, sir. Oh, by the way, Masters, is the fountain turned off? Yes, sir. I turned it off myself at half past ten, seeing you were engaged. Oh, fine, fine. Well, good night, Masters. Good night, sir. Oh, hello there. Just coming out to look for you, Gooch. Hello. Have a nice evening? A nice evening. Not as nice as the evening as you had with the obliging little widow, eh? No, no, that's enough of that now, sir. Oh, it is, is it? That's enough, is it? What a good one. You think I am talking to me like that? One of your ruddy servants? Well, I'm not. I'm the boss here. Get that into your head. I'm the boss, and you know it. All right, all right. But buzz off to bed now, there you're a good fellow. It's getting really too late. I'm tired. No, no, you don't. Think I'm drunk, don't you? Well, I'm not drunk enough so I don't remember the little business I've got with you. Well, can't we talk about it in the morning? No. We'll talk about it right now. I'm short of cash. It's high time you kicked in with some more. Now, look here, Sam, I pay you your allowance as we agreed, and you stay here whenever you like. But that's all. Oh, it is, is it? Yes. Getting pretty, I am mighty. Aren't you, number 4132? Sam, quiet. For him, it's safe. You're in a fine spot to tell me what you're going to do, aren't you? Quiet. The servants, my dear. Quiet. Betty, my dear. The Ronald Fact Doodle, whatever his name is. Sam, you're drunk. Sure, I'm drunk. I'm not an escaped delbert, am I? I'm not liable to be all back to work out ten years of labor for forgery, am I? Sam, listen, I'll give you a little extra. Just this once. When I think a man like me that was only in for a short stretch anyway worked it out all good and proper. Dependent on the charity, mind you, of a pearl. What's rolling in? Well, I'm not rolling in, Wilton. You know it. But if you'll promise me faithfully that this is the last time. Sure, I'll promise. For an old pearl, I'll promise anything. You just give me five thousand dollars. Five thousand? That's right. You've got a great opportunity. All I need is a little ready cash. Don't be an idiot, Sam. What do you think I'm going to lay hands on that much? Just like that. I'll give you a check for five hundred. You're trying to rendig on your old pal, eh? I said five thousand and five thousand it is, or you'll find yourself back on the rock pile, see? I tell you, I haven't got it. I haven't got it. You've got enough to go buy in fancy fountains, playing around with the widow next door. Are you really going to dig me out of this? I'll leave her out of it all right. I'll leave the old pastry to you. Watch it! I told you that was enough of that and I meant it. Now pull yourself together and get a bed. Go on. I'll talk to you in the morning. You hear me, Sam? Yeah, come on. Come on. I didn't hit you that hard, you know. Come on. Get up on your feet now, Sam. Come on. Sam. Sam. Hit his head on the corner of the table. Shoo. No blood. No, there it is just over the temple. Soft. Spongy. Mr. Butch's fall had made quite a racket, too. Somebody must have heard it. They'd be calling out in a moment. Footsteps coming down to find out what's the matter. Have to think fast. Nobody on this side of the house anyway. Nobody could have heard. Steady now and face the facts. Oh, it didn't feel like murder, but the police won't care about that. First off, they'll take fingerprints and then... If I could make him suspect somebody else, confuse him. A lullaby. Yes, that's what's needed. Make it seem he was alive when he was already dead. How do they do it in the stories? Dress up like a dead man and impersonate him. No, no. No, you imitate him, speaking over the phone. No, you make a gramophone record of his voice or you forge a letter. No, no, no, forgery. No, I don't want to get mixed up in that old game again. No, no, no, no. Oh, shh. Wait a minute, though. The time earlier, not later. Say 10.30, while everyone was playing bridge. If he could have died some time before that. But how to prove it? What happened at 10.30? 10.30. Think. The fountain. The fountain. Yes, the fountain. Mr. Spiver went out to the French windows to the garden, then turned on the fountain, then down the garden path. Stopped and called a name. A name. Sam! Going very well, Mr. Spiller was. Are careful with the flashlight. They can't hear the fountain from the house, but they can see that. Ah, there's the whiskey, still half full. Pour most of it out, so that it will look as though we had even more to drink. Now back to the house. That'll do. Now back into the house. It was dark, the moon had gone down, but from now on, quiet. Quiet as he is lying over there. The whole closet. The wheelchair used to be Mrs. Spiller's. Remember how she just left him into it? Who'd have ever thought old Sam was so heavy out the other door, but quietly this time. Feel like running. Feel as though every window in the house were thronged with white staring faces, watching, watching the manufacturer of an alibi. Here we are, how to lift him up again. There, laying down on the edge of it. One hand in the water, and a bruise on his head right up against the stone corner of the basin. There, what's that? He's alive, gulch is alive. After all the trouble, after committing practically the perfect crime, he's alive. Sam, bring him to life again? More blackmail for the rest of her life? What about Mrs. Digby, Rosalind? She, at least, deserves something better. Murder? All right, murder. He's dead already, as far as the rest of the world is concerned. Now. Awesome. Now or never, his face is right with the water's edge. Push him under. Now. Now. Well. Now. And so it's done. Remorse? Why remorse? Does the mouse feel remorse that the cat has killed? Does the prisoner feel remorse when he leaves his prison? No. No, it's done. And well done. Nothing left but the finishing touches now. Take back the wheelchair. Let the fountain run another hour. And then to bed. And when the police come in the morning, the perfect crime. Remorse? Nonsense. Congratulations would be more like it. Yes. Congratulations, Mr. Spiller. Oh yes, coming Inspector, come in. I hate to cover you, Mr. Spiller. Regulations, you know. Of course, of course. Every one here who was present the night of the, the very last night. Yes, Inspector, yes. Mrs. Digby, my neighbour, my daughter Elizabeth, her fiance, Mr. Ronald Prowfoot, and the servants, of course. Excellent. Well, now if you'll all bear with me, I have to ask you all a few questions, you know. But Inspector, it wasn't... That's what we have to find out. You know, there was a blow on the head. Oh. Now, as I understand it, the deceased was last seen alive at about eight-thirties, just after dinner. Monsieur, you were the last to see a man-a-man? Yes, sir. I believe so, sir. You took the whiskey and soda down to the fountain in the garden and left it there with Mr. Gooch. And that was the last time he was seen alive by any of you. Yes, sir. The four of you then played cards, I believe. Yes. Until what time? About ten-thirty. And no one left the room during those two hours? No. Then, Mr. Spiller, you accompanied Mrs. Digby to her home. Yes. Is that correct, Mrs. Digby? Yes, Inspector. Now, when you returned, you were met in the hall by masters. Yes. How much time was that, Masters? About ten-forty-five, sir. And Mr. Spiller at that time inquired after Mr. Gooch? Yes, sir. He asked if I had seen him, and as I had not, he suggested I might retire. But he himself would lock the house. And the others are all left? Yes, sir. That is to say, Mr. Ronald had left. I heard him drive off in his car, and Mr. Elizabeth had retired. Then you were alone in the downstairs part of the house. Is that so, Mr. Spiller? Yes. You tell me, please, what you did then? I was worried about Gooch. He'd been drinking quite a lot, and so I went to look for him. Went down to the end of a garden by the fountain. You didn't go through the lilac hedge to the fountain? No. No, it was dark, but then I couldn't see. I called Gooch several times. Is anyone here? Here, Mr. Spiller? Call? Oh, I did, sir. I was half asleep, as you might say. But I did hear Mr. Spiller call out. And then what did you do, Mr. Spiller? I came back into the house. I sat up in the library, read for a while, and about one o'clock I went to bed. Now, now this is very important. Who turned off the fountain? I did, sir. At what time? At 10.30, sir. You're quite sure of that? Yes, sir. It was the usual time. I see. And no one would have turned it on again, of course. I can't think twice, sir. Well, I think that makes everything very clear, Mr. Spiller. Yes, yes. When the body was found, it was still wet from the spray of the fountain. Therefore, death must have occurred some time before the fountain was turned off at 10.30. And as all of you here were occupied till then, from the time the deceased was last seen alive... An accident, of course. I said so from the beginning. Well, might have been either, you know. There had been a blow, and there was water in the lungs. Oh, the man apparently fell due to his intoxicated condition, struck his head falling into the water from which he was unable to rest himself. Well, seems the obvious conclusion, doesn't it? Poor fellow. Well, thanks, everyone. I don't think we shall have to trouble you again, Mr. Spiller. Well, I hope not. And thank you, Inspector. In a township of Alton, County of Hampshire, that in the case of the deceased Samuel Gooch, death was due solely to accidental causes. I was afraid for a while. All there was nothing to be afraid of there. Poor old Gooch just lost his footing and fell, that's all. I know. I was afraid of him. Of him? I know it was silly, but he was so, so strange. I thought he had some sort of hold over you. Oh, nonsense. Darling, just an old friend. And I am a sentimental old fool. You are an old, dear. But I've got to run now. What, off at Ronald? Uh-huh. Daddy, are you going to be awfully lonely when I've gone? Oh, you know I'll miss you. Maybe Mrs. Digby. No, no, no, my darling. Oh, she's such a darling. Oh, she is rather nice, isn't she, eh? In fact, I... I thought I might pop over to steal this afternoon, as long as you're going to be out. Daddy, I knew it. I will keep you another second. Ask her over to dinner. Well, perhaps I shall. You be on time, though. I will. Bye. Bye. Well, huh? Oh, Master, yes. If it's convenient to you, sir, I should like to have my bedroom changed. I should like to sleep in doors in the main house. Oh? Why is that, Master? I'm a very light sleeper, sir, and noises keep me awake. Noises? The weather vane, sir, above the garage. When the wind changes, it creeps... Well, a little oil perhaps would suit. I hardly think that would do, sir. Because when the wind changes, there are other noises. They can be most disturbing, sir. What? Other noises. The fountains, sir. Fountain? Yes, sir. Ordinarily, I'm quite unable to hear it. Anymore than you can in the main house, sir. But when the wind is from the west, the plaster backstop acts quite like a sounding board in the direction of my room, sir. In fact, I can hear not only the fountain itself, but I can hear even the faintest noises in the grove around it quite clearly. I see. Quite, sir. For instance, on the night Mr. Gooch sustained his unfortunate accident, the wind changed a little after eleven. The weather vane awakened me, and then I heard the fountain. I seemed to hear other noises, too, if I may say so, sir. You heard. Yes, sir. I might add that after hearing the police inspector's observations, I took the precaution of pressing your dinner jacket. The sleeve seemed quite wet, sir. Oh, yes, yes, yes. I think, sir, all things taken into consideration, you might find it worth your fowl to retain me permanently in your service at, shall we say, double my present wage for now. Oh. Oh, yes, yes, of course. I'm very much obliged to, sir. Is there anything else, sir? No. No, nothing else. I'm... going to sit here by the fountain. Very ingenious. Yes. Most ingenious, my fellow. Costs so little to run, because it uses the same water over and over again. Over and over again. Over. So close is the fountain plays starring Edmund Gwen and the Dorothy Sayer story, which was tonight's tale of suspense. The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear, who with Ted Bliss director, Bernard Herman and Lucian Marrowick, conductor and composer, and Robert L. Richards, the radio author, collaborated on tonight's suspense. Now CBS is pleased to announce that starting next week at the same time, Mr. Robert Young will begin a brand new series entitled Passport for Adams. Passport for Adams will bring you each week the adventures of an American newspaper reporter among the people of the United Nations. Next week's broadcast will be written and directed by Norman Collin, with music by Bernard Herman and the stars, we've said, will be Robert Young. This is your narrator, the man in black, who invites you to be with us for suspense one week from Saturday at 7.30 to 8.00, Eastern War Time, and from 8.00 to 8.30 Pacific War Time, when with Miss Agnes Morehead and with a repeat performance by popular request of the play called Sorry, Wrong Number. We again hope to keep you in suspense. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.