 Now, Roma Wines, present. Suspense. Tonight, tale of two sisters starring Claire Trevor and Nancy Kelly. Suspense is presented for your enjoyment by Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines. Those excellent California wines that can add so much pleasantness to the way you live, to your happiness and entertaining guests, to your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now a glassful would be very pleasant, as Roma Wines bring you... Suspense! This is the man in black here for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California, who tonight from Hollywood bring you as co-stars Miss Nancy Kelly and Miss Claire Trevor. Both are currently being seen in RKO Productions, Miss Trevor in Murder My Sweet, and Miss Kelly in Betrayal from the East. There is a phrase of Walt Whitman's, the sisters' death and night incessantly softly wash again and ever again this soiled world. And so the tale of these two sisters, and with the performance of Claire Trevor as Clara and of Nancy Kelly as Adele, we again hope to keep you in suspense. Everyone is so good to me. I like being here, but some of the others don't, I guess. Do you hear? They scream sometimes like that in the night. Maybe they scream because they remember things, but I remember things too. Especially when people come out from town to see me, to bring me things. But there is nothing that I want. They can't bring back my sister, my beautiful sister Adele. Today was Thursday and they came, and now they've gone. But when they came, they brought back memories of Adele. When we were children, the night that mother died, the night we made the promise. Don't cry anymore, Adele. I'm afraid, Clara. We're alone. We're not alone. But if something happened to you, nothing's going to happen to me. I'm going to take care of you. But that's what mother said, and now she's left us too. But Adele, mother didn't know that she wouldn't have left us if she could have helped us. Promise me you won't die, Clara. And that whatever I do, you'll do. And that you'll never leave me. I promise. And we'll be together, always and forever. Always and forever. I promise. Years I kept that promise. Adele and I were as close as anyone could be. We had few friends, and I didn't mind as long as she was happy. But sometimes I was frightened at the way she clung to me after we were grown. I was afraid of what would become of her in case anything ever happened to me. And then something did happen. I met Douglas Foley. Adele liked him until she realized that I'd fallen in love with him. Then she hated him in a childish, vicious way. He tried to win her over, but it was no good. And then he asked me to marry him, and I... I said yes. That night, after he'd gone, Adele was waiting for me in my room. Adele! Adele, you're so white, darling. You're ill. Would you promise me? Oh, but Adele, I'm not leaving you. You're going to live with us. We're children, Adele. You promised we'd be together, always. I'll never speak to you again. But we were married, and we believed that Adele would forgive us in time, but... but she didn't. She refused to see us. Then when we learned that my husband's new job was to take us to Europe, our first thought was of Adele. If she would only go with us. But when we drove to her house, she refused to come to the door, and we were forced to sail without her. My son, Doug, was born in Europe. And I wrote to Adele a long letter telling her about him, but the letter was returned. I'm opened. When Doug was just 10, we returned to America. I went directly from the station to Adele's home. She was working in the garden when we drove up. I was shocked at her appearance. Her hair had turned almost white, and there was a strange look about her. I sent Doug to the gate to introduce himself. She looked at him in a puzzled manner. Then she saw us sitting in the car, and she turned and walked into the house. The next thing I remember was that day, one month after my return home, when I was put on trial for murder. For my husband's murder. Mrs. Foley, will you please tell us again what happened the night of your husband's murder? My husband was working in the garden all day when it began to grow dark. Will you please speak up? Yes. My husband had been working all day in the garden, and when it began to grow dark, I called, but he insisted that he had something to finish. I called him several times after that, and then I became irritated. I came up, I had my dinner alone, and I went up to my bedroom. Then you admit that you quarreled with him the night of the murder? No, we didn't quarrel. I was irritated, but I said nothing to my husband. Your husband's death was caused by a deep, narrow wound in the vicinity of the heart. It's the opinion of this court that the instrument used might have been a nice pick. Mrs. Foley, have you any other ideas as to what might have inflicted this wound? No. Had your husband any enemies, Mrs. Foley? No. And so I was acquitted that day because of insufficient evidence. I thought Adele would come to me during those awful days, but she didn't. I saw her in the courtroom, but she never looked my way. I believe it was about two months after the trial that my son Doug and his friend Roy went on an all-day hiking trip to the beach. They were late getting back. It was almost dark when I saw Roy coming up the street. He was alone. He was running. Mrs. Foley, Mrs. Foley! Roy, where's Doug? He's down at the beach with her. With who? Your sister. My sister? For heaven's sakes, Roy, will you tell me what this is all about? You see, Mrs. Foley, Doug and I... It seemed that Roy and Doug had forgotten to take along their drinking water and they hadn't missed it until they'd come to a very deserted strip of the beach. Oh, come on, Doug. Maybe we can get water at that little house over there. It's the only place for a house, isn't it? Yeah. Well, come on. Looks like nobody lives here. Well, all the better. We can just drink out of that faucet in the yard. You won't have to ask nobody. Come on. Come on down, isn't it? Maybe the faucet isn't working. The garden's all dead. Oh, sure it's working. See? Someone's just plain lazy. Maybe no one lives here. Oh, sure they do. There's a mailbox. Maybe there's a name on it. Mrs. Adele Norris. That's Mom's sister. Yeah? Well, let's drop in and see her. Ah, she wouldn't even know who I was. Oh, you could tell her, couldn't you? Say, maybe she'd give us some cake or something. No, she's mad at me and Mom. Come on, let's get out of here. Say, Doug, look at all the dead leaves on the porch. Let's have a look around. No, she might come out. Oh, she can't hurt you, can she? Let's peek in the window. No. Oh, look, Doug, the place is all upset. It's all dirty and everything. Let's look in the rest of the windows. There's no one around. Here's the kitchen. Look at all the dirty dishes piled up. Hey, maybe my aunt is sick. Hey, look, somebody's coming to the... to the window. Oh, gosh. What do you want? We wanted to see if you were all right. Go away. Don't you recognize me? No. Are you sick? No. I'm your nephew, Douglas Foley. Go away, whoever you are. I'd like to help you. Go away, I said. Mother wouldn't want me to leave you here like this. Who's your mother? I told you, don't you remember? She's your sister. I have no sister. My sister died when I was 18. Roy, you go home and get mother. My aunt is sick. I'll climb through this window and see if there's anything I can do. No, no, you stay out of this house. Well, Douglas, let's both go. She doesn't want you here. She's sick. You go for my mother and hurry. If you dare come in this house, you'll be sorry. If you dare... You say your name is Douglas Foley? Yeah, that's right. You see, I... Oh, no. Douglas Foley is dead forever and ever. No, no, don't you see? The one who died was my father. Douglas Foley came between two sisters. And then he died. Yeah, but I'm trying to tell you. My mother and you are... If he isn't dead, then I guess he'll have to die again. That's it. Yes, he'll have to die again. He'll have to die again. Look, you're sick. You need help. I'm sick? Yeah. Don't you want me to come in? Yes. Oh, yes. Come in, Douglas Foley. Tonight for Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Nancy Kelly and Claire Trevor in Meldinelli's radio play, Tale of Two Sisters. Tonight's study in Suspense. This is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines. We have an interesting idea for you tonight from the keen and sensible mind of America's famed expert on parties and smart entertaining, Miss Elsa Maxwell. And we quote... Serving a nice table wine when friends come into dinner or with everyday meals is one of the smartest, most sensible and fruly moderate pleasures of which I know and one which any family can regularly enjoy since the cost of delicious Roma Burgundy is very little. Just serve your Roma Burgundy well-cooled. Enjoy it with any food and don't worry about special glasses. Any glasses available are perfectly correct. The goodness of the wine, the added enjoyment of your food, these are the things that count. Well, Miss Maxwell expresses perfectly what we of Roma believe. In Roma, California Burgundy, in all Roma wines, you enjoy the glorious color, aroma and flavor of superb, sun-ripe grapes. Our noted wineries, located in California's choicest vineyard areas, assure you of flavor and quality which are always good, never varying, always delightful. And so, Roma quality is preferred everywhere and you are able to enjoy these fine Roma wines at modest prices. Only pennies are glassful. Remember, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wines. R-O-M-A, Roma wines. And now it is with pleasure that we bring back to our sound stage Nancy Kelly Azadell and Claire Trevor who resumes the recital of this tale of two sisters. A narrative well calculated to keep you in suspense. You see how clearly I remember things? I remember so well the horror of that moment when Doug's little friend finished telling me how he had left Doug there alone with my sister Azadell. And I even remember what Roy said at the end. So I came back to tell you, Mrs. Foley, on account of Doug made me. But now I wish I hadn't left him there with her. I know she's your sister and all, but I saw her face when she came to the window. She looked awful, Mrs. Foley. She looked awful crazy. I followed Roy's directions and I went my foot north along the ocean. I must have walked a good mile before I came to the house. I ran quickly up the pathway. Front door standing open. The lamp burning on the table. Azadell! I couldn't see her very clearly by the candlelight, but I could see that she was fully dressed. Her hair was undone and it spilled down over the pillow. For a moment I thought she was dead. What do you want? Azadell. What do you want? It's me, Clara. Where's Douglas? He's dead. Azadell, husband is dead, I tell you. I don't mean my husband. I mean my son. Where is he? He was murdered with a long sharp... Be still. You don't know what you're seeing. Where is my son? I haven't seen him. You have. He was here. I know that. I haven't seen him. Yes, yes, you have. Try and remember. Where is he? I... I don't know. Yes, yes, you do know. What have you done to him? Was he your son? Yes, Azadell. Please. I hated him. I know. Where is he, Azadell? He went away. Where? Where did he go? He... He went to the village. For a doctor. Are you telling me the truth? Oh, yes. How long ago did he leave? I... I don't remember. I... Will you stop questioning me? Tell you he went for a doctor. Come here, Clara. After ten years? I've come to help you. Oh, I don't need your help. Azadell, did Doug really go for the doctor? You think I'm lying? I don't know, but if he isn't back soon, I... I'm going for the police. The police? Take a thing off, Azadell. You'll be more comfortable. Then when the doctor comes for you to seek Azadell, let me take your thing. No! Yes, of course he will. Douglas Foley came between two sisters. Azadell. He... He worked in the garden, bending down low. Hired Clara. There he is. Try and rest, Azadell. Close your eyes. But he was working in the garden, and I was on my way home from the sewing club. I saw him there, Clara. He looked the same after ten years, because he had your strength to draw from. I was alone. I had grown old. And he had stayed young. And then she seemed to doze off. Her breathing was so labored. And I thought, perhaps she'll rest more easily if I undress her. And I went over to the bed. She was wearing a corset. I reached over and began to unhook it. She started mumbling something in her sleep. You... You broke your promise. Always and forever, you'd say. But she didn't wake up. And I finally managed to take her corset off. But as I went to place it on a chair, I noticed something protruding from the material. At first I thought it was a broken stay, but it was round. And one end was sharp. I looked closer. It was a steel knitting needle. A long, steel one. And there was rust on it. Or was that brown stain rust? A dell had concealed a knitting needle. And there was proof of what I guess I'd known all along. A dell had murdered my husband. With a shutter, I dropped it to the floor. And then something caught my eye. There was a hand sticking out from beneath the bed. It was white. Still, it was a child's hand. I fell swiftly to my knees. Just as I reached out for him, I felt a sharp blow on the back of my head. And I fell to the floor. But she was laughing. And that we were playing an old game of ours where we tied each other up with our bathrobe cords. And then we waited for a knight in armor to rescue us. It was the odor of kerosene that brought me to. The room was filled with it. I was pounding, and I couldn't seem to focus my eyes. I tried to raise myself to my feet. I couldn't seem to move my arms and legs. Suddenly I realized why. But I was tied with a bathrobe cord. I was a child again. A dell and I were playing our games again. My husband, everything that had happened between a dell and me had been nothing but a bad dream. A feeling of relief swept over me. Then I heard footsteps. And the door creaked slowly open. And suddenly I knew that what had happened had not been a dream. For a dell stood in the doorway. Not a dell the child who would rescue me. But a dell with gray hair who hadn't spoken for all those years. She wore a long dressing gown. She was barefoot, her long hair streaming about her shoulders. And there was a vacant, stupid smile on her face. She carried a bucket in her hand. And the odor of kerosene filled the room. She didn't seem to notice me as she went past me. And she threw the liquid from the bucket onto the bed. Oh, there! A dell! No, a dell! She paid no attention to me as she left the room again. I struggled wildly, but it was no use. I was tied securely. And then I saw a still figure on the bed. His face was white. He was unconscious. And there was a deep gash at the side of his head. And then a dell came into the room. She had filled her bucket to the brim. And she walked towards the bed again. A dell! A dell, listen to me. This is your son, Clara. Oh, yes, a dell. Untie me. Looking for him. He's untie me, a dell. I've unknew your son. For years I never knew him. What is he, Clara? He's only ten. A dell. A dell, you're sick. Sick. Untie me and we'll go for a doctor. You want me to be well, Clara? Yes, untie me. Are we friends again, Clara? Yes, yes, we're friends. I can't forget the years, Clara. I must wash those years away before we can really be friends again. A dell, forget those years. Let me help you. Untie me. No. No, we can't forget them, Clara. We must wash them away. That's what I was doing. I was washing away the years. Your husband's gone. Your son is all that remains of them. And then we can be sisters again. You don't know what you're doing. Untie me. But this isn't water that I have in this bucket. No, no, you see, you see your sick, a dell. It's what I put into the lamps to make them burn. No. Perhaps I could burn away the years. Oh, yes, that would be better. Much better. No, no. A dell for the love of heaven. Untie me. If I could burn away these years that remain on the bed. No. No, a dell. If I could do that with this candle, well, then you and I could really be friends again like when mother was alive. We could be sisters again. Always and forever. We're sisters now, Adele. No. Now you're lying. We're not sisters. Adele, Adele, listen to me. We're children, you see, and you've tied me with this cord and now you must undie me like you used to do when you left me too long and I cried. Oh, no. You're lying. We're not sisters. And we haven't been for years. And now I'm going to punish you for lying, just as mother used to punish us when we were children. Then she started walking unsteadily towards me, a lighted candle in one hand, the bucket in the other, the liquid slapping over her dressing gown as she walked. Clara, do you remember the time mother washed out my mouth with soap when she caught me in a fib? Well, that's what I'm going to do to you now. Or perhaps it would be better if I burned it out. No, no! Now, Clara, don't scream. You awaken your precious son and we mustn't awaken him now. Adele, untie me. I promise you that I'll take her away. We'll go away. You'll never have to see us again. Oh, no, Clara. And she kept moving towards me, holding the lighted candle close to her breast. You mustn't ever lie to me again, Clara. Adele, you're ill. You don't know what you're doing. Wash away the ears. Burn away the ears. Suddenly I saw a tiny flicker of flame on her breast. The frilly dressing gown. She'd held the candle too close. Her entire dressing gown was a mass of flames. It spread swiftly to her hair. In a moment she was a blazing torch and the odor of burning filled the room. I could see her face, surprise, and contorted with pain. She turned and talked to that a second. The bucket flaming in her... It was my sister Adele to think about it, Mrs. Foley. You knew my sister burned to death, didn't you, Mrs. Willard? She was very beautiful. Yes, I know. Try and rest. Is there anything I can get you before I go to bed? No, thank you. Well, you go to sleep. Well, you go to sleep then. I will. Good night. That's right. Go to sleep. Was that my sister, Mrs. Willard? No, no, Mrs. Foley. It was one of the others. They scream because they remember things. Yes, I suppose they do. Good night. Good night. Remember things too. I remember. I remember. Promise me you'll never leave me, Clara. And whatever I do, you'll do. I promise. Always and forever. Always and forever. I promise. And so closes Tale of Two Sisters, starring Claire Trevor and Nancy Kelly. Tonight's study in... Suspense. Suspense is produced, edited and directed by William Spear. The other day, Elsa Maxwell told us about a friend who had lived many years in wine-loving countries around the world. I gave him some of our delicious Roma California Burgundy at dinner, and he confessed to me that he thought it every bit as enjoyable as any he had ever had. So I say, you people who do not regularly serve Roma wine are missing one of the most delightful treats daily living can offer. It's so good, so smart, and yet so very simple. Take Miss Maxwell's advice. Enjoy Roma wine regularly. It's always good, unburyingly fine in flavor and quality, and only pennies a glass. Remember, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wines. Roma, R-O-M-A, Roma wine. Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Mr. Lee Bowman as star of... Suspense. Presented by Roma wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.