 Come on in. Have your picture taken with the corpse. You'll look good next to him. Poor fellow was a photographer. Passed on last winter while taking a picture. He's died of overexposure. Awful, isn't it? Enough to make your camera shutter. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Enough to make your camera shutter. Well, let's gather around the coffin now for a nice, happy picture. Watch the body. Watch the body. Oh, dear. We'll have to take that again. Someone moves. And I think it was the corpse. Why, that's downright silly. Oh, hello, Mary. I'm just in time. Come on, get in the picture. What? Do you think I'd stand next to a corpse? Oh, please, Mary, you can wear your Lipton sterling silver medallion. Then I'll send the picture to my friends in the graveyard. Why, Mary, with your figure, your symmetry, they'll probably elect you Miss Cemetery of 1945. Wouldn't that be nice? Thank you, but I can do without that honor. And as far as the sterling silver medallion is concerned, it's mighty popular right now. I've been getting hundreds of letters from ladies all over the country telling me how much they appreciate it. You see, the medallion is made of real sterling silver. It's about an inch in diameter, and it's decorated with the Chinese symbol for good luck. You can wear the medallion as a necklace or a choker. You see, it's hung on a narrow black ray on satin ribbon. Or you can simply add it to your charm bracelet if you wish. It's just the thing to brighten up your simple silk dresses and your dressy suits. And ladies, here's how you get this handsome medallion. Just send 25 cents and the box top from a package of Lipton's, the tea with the brisk flavor, to Lipton Tea Box 92. That's Box 92, New York City. You paint a pretty picture, Mary. Now let me paint one for you. Mine is called Portrait of Death. It's an original radio play by that gasly ghostwriter, Robert Sloan. And our star tonight is Miss Leslie Woods, who plays the role of Miss Snyder. And listen, if you've never sat for a portrait, you'd better not sit alone for Portrait of Death. In the dim light of a misty old art dealer's gallery, a somber portrait has just been sold at auction to a man by the name of Mason. Magnificent painting, isn't it? There's never been anything like it, Mr. Mason. But if you don't mind my saying so, I think you've paid a stiff price for it. I couldn't let that woman in the black dress outbid me. Look at those colors. Expression on the girl's face. Yes. The detail and the background. Really is a work of art. And technically speaking, yes. But the portrait has a strange history, Mr. Mason. Strange and sinister. What do you mean? Today, it's brought bad luck to every one of its owners. Oh, come now, Flora. Well, it may be just a story, but at least this much of it is true. The day this portrait was finished, the artist died by his own hand. And the model who posed for him died, too, by her own hand. So that's why he painted her in black. Yes. He knew she was going to die. He even painted two graves into the background of the picture, you see? One grave's for him, one for her. Now you know why the painting is called Portrait of Death, Mr. Mason. It meant death for the artist, model, and oddly enough, for many of its owners. I'm sorry you bought it, Mr. Mason. I'm sorry you bought it, too, Mr. Mason. You shouldn't have taken it away from me. I beg your pardon. Don't you remember me? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. You're the woman I was bidding against. I still want the painting, Mr. Mason. And I beg you to sell it to me at a price I can afford. I warn you, it can only bring you harm. I'm sorry, Miss Snyder. The painting is not for sale. Flora, you didn't have to drive me all the way home with this painting. I could have managed it alone. Oh, no trouble at all, Mr. Mason. Yeah, let me help you carry it into the house. Oh, no, I'll get one of the servants. Oh, Parker. I'm afraid I'll have to go in. Will you wait for me? Oh, Parker. Mr. Mason? Yes, Parker. Tell Mrs. Mason to come down with you. I've got a surprise for her. Mr. Mason, I think you'd better come in. Why, what's the matter? I have some very bad news for you, sir. Terrible news. Mrs. Mason is dead. What? It was her heart, sir. She died this afternoon while you were at the art gallery. No. I tried to reach you, but you'd already left, sir. Dr. Simpson said... Excuse me, sir. Hello, Mr. Mason's accidents? Yes, Mr. Mason. Just a moment, please. It's for you, sir. Hello? Mr. Mason. You haven't had any sleep for days. I'm all right, Parker. But it can't do any good to sit in this room and stare at that painting. Parker, doesn't the portrait look a little... different today? And it did when I brought it into the house? I don't think so, sir. Expression on the girl's face is a little deeper. A little more understanding. The background at... With Heaven's Parker. What is it, sir? Look. The graves in the background. Weren't they there, sir? When I bought it, Parker, there were two. Now there are three. I'm so glad you could come out here, Mr. Mason. I had to speak to you. I came as soon as I could. Did you bring the catalog? Yes, I did, Mr. Mason. What is it? What's wrong? Let me see a picture of that portrait, please. Of course. Here is a portrait of death. There. I was right. There were only two graves in the original painting. Of course, Mr. Mason. I told you there were two. The day you bought it. But now there are three. Three graves? What? Come. I'll show you. Mr. Mason, please. I'll tell you. The third one's been there ever since my wife died. But that's impossible. You must imagine. Give yourself one. Here. One, two, three. Mr. Mason, why are you looking at me like that? You need a rest. A rest? What are you talking about? Don't you understand? There are only two graves in that portrait. The third one is in your mind. I mean, there isn't a third grave on this painting. I know. You've been under such a strain these past few days. I must be losing my mind. I'm sure it isn't as serious as all that. It's only natural for you to be upset about your wife. I want to get rid of the portrait. I want to sell it. Right away. I don't know how soon I can dispose of it for you, Mr. Mason. Under the circumstances, it might be hard to arrange a sale. That woman will buy it, won't she? That woman who's been pestering me for it? Why don't you get in touch with her? I will, first thing in the morning. No, no. I won't wait until morning. I want that portrait out of this house tonight. Where are you going with that painting? Why, I... I wish taking it to the garage. What for? You said you didn't want it in the house tonight. I thought I might return it to the dealer. Mr. Flora hasn't called back yet? No, sir. Well, I'll take it to myself. Is the car ready? Yes, sir, but I hardly think you ought to go alone, Mr. Mason. You're in no condition. I brought that portrait into this house and I'll take it back... alone. Devil is the matter with this garage for me. Get that painting out of here, but I have to carry it out with my hands. Portrait of death. You are a portrait of death. You... with those searing eyes... that paint half-smile. I'll never see your face again. Not as long as... No. No, don't... Strange time of night to go calling for a painting, Mr. Flora. Mr. Mason told me to get in touch with you right away, Miss Snyder. He was determined to have you pick up the portrait tonight. Well, I hope he isn't asleep. Nobody seems to be answering the door. Wait a moment. There's a lion in the garage. Good heavens, what was that? It sounded like a scream from the back of the house. Come on, we've got to hurry. Come on, Miss Snyder. There's somebody in the garage. Parker! What's the matter, Parker? Why'd you scream? It's Mr. Mason, sir. He's dead. What? I just found him, sir, slumped over on the floor of the car. Awful. Maybe he was asphyxiating. No, the motor wasn't running, sir. It's the portrait. The portrait killed him. Just as it did the others. It does seem strange. He came to the garage about an hour ago, carrying the painting in his arms. Didn't you help him? He wouldn't let me, sir. He insisted on being alone. But these marks on his neck, as if he'd been strangled with a fine chain, or a woman's necklace. What do you mean by that? Nothing. Did you think I was accusing you, Miss Snyder? I don't know. Good heavens, Mr. Flanar. Look at the portrait. Oh, it's wrong. The necklace, sir. The necklace that was painted on the girl's throat. It's gone. Well, you can breathe a little easier now. Unless you happen to be wearing that girl's necklace. If you are, just write a note to the artist that painted the portrait, and he'll answer you from the grave. Honest. He wrote to me from the grave the other day. You know what he said? Having wonderful time, wish you were here. I suppose you think that's funny. Why, Mary, it must be funny. The dead artist was smiling when he wrote it. Oh, but then he's always smiling. You see, he's a grinning skull. It's quite a story how he got that way. Let me tell you. Now, stop. I don't want to hear any of your morbid stories. Well, that's the only kind I know. Well, then you listen to me, because I know a story with a happy ending, and it's true, too. It's the story behind that sterling silver medallion that the Lipton people want to send the ladies. It seems that the original of this handsome medallion was given to an American flier who was rescued by Chinese guerrillas after he'd bailed out over enemy territory. The flier was told that the Chinese letters on the medallion would identify him and bring him safely through the lines. Well, he did get through. And only then did he learn that the inscription said, good luck in Chinese. Now, there's a story to tell your friends when they're admiring your medallion on its smart black ray on satin ribbon. And to get this Chinese good luck medallion, all you have to do is send 25 cents and the box top from a package of Lipton's, the tea with the brisk flavor, to Lipton Tea Box 92. That's Box 92 in New York City. Well, let's get back to that there cover girl on the portrait of death. It's six months now since she strangled old man Mason with that necklace of hers. And put the Indian sign on his late wife. Parker's still around, though. And so is that character, Flannoy, who at the moment is disposing of the old fated portrait for Mr. Mason's estate. Mr. Davis, I believe you're the only man in the world who wants this painting. And I really can't see why you want it, knowing its history. Mr. Flannoy, that kind of history doesn't mean a thing to me. Oh. May I take it with me now? Oh, certainly. Parker. Yes, sir? Would you be good enough to help Mr. Davis with the painting? If you don't mind, sir, I'd rather not touch it. I haven't seen it since Mr. Mason died, and I don't care to see it now, sir. All right, Parker. I'll help you, Mr. Davis. Thank you very much. It's a very heavy frame, you know. It's really too heavy. What? That's incredible. What is it, Mr. Flannoy? What's wrong? Parker, do you say you haven't touched this painting since Mr. Mason died? No, sir. Well, look at it. The girl is wearing a necklace again. Miss Snyder, how do you do? We haven't seen you here at the gallery for some time. What's the meaning of this, Mr. Flannoy? Thank you, Parker. Why did you let that painting go without telling me it was for sale? Well, I tried to tell you, Miss Snyder. I called you home several times to let you know about the auction. I was never able to reach you. Didn't you know I was away on a trip? No. Then why didn't you find out, you stupid fool? How many times have I told you I must have that painting? Well, I'm sorry, Miss Snyder. Never mind, never mind. Who is this Mr. Davis? Where does he live and where can I find him? Well, I imagine you'll find him at his home. Here's his car. Give it to me. I don't think you'll get anything by going up there, Miss Snyder. You keep out of this, Flannoy. I want that painting. And this time, I'm going to get it. I'm very sorry, Miss Snyder, but nothing you can say will persuade me to part with the painting. Mr. Davis, your stubbornness may cost you your life, you know. I'm afraid I'll have to risk it. I'm very anxious to find out exactly how he died. And if he was murdered, I'm going to see that the killer is brought to justice. The killer is the painting, Mr. Davis. And you will find that out very soon, just as the others did. Are you threatening me? I am giving you one more chance to live. One more chance to sell me the portrait at the price you paid for it. Hmm. If I refuse... If you don't sell it to me now, Mr. Davis, I will buy it after your death. Forgive me if I'm not showing it to the door, Miss Snyder, but I hardly think... Never mind. I'll go by myself. No, don't have to. Parker. Yes, sir? Parker, what are you doing here? Oh, uh, didn't you know, Miss Snyder? I'm Mr. Davis' new butler. Hey, now, come here, Mr. Flannoy speaking. Mr. Flannoy? Yes, this is Mr. Flannoy. You had better come over to Mr. Davis' house right away. And don't tell anyone you're coming. What? Who is this? It's important, Mr. Flannoy. Don't ask a lot of questions. Just come over. Who is this? Don't you know? Portrait. What? You... Hello? Hello, hello, hello. Come in, Mr. Flannoy. Hmm. I thought it was you on the phone. Why didn't you tell me? I didn't want to mention any names. Come in, will you? Oh, that'll ride. What's the hurry? What's this all about? I'll tell you in a minute. Does anyone know you came here? No, I don't think so. Good. What are you doing here? And where's Parker and Mr. Davis? Parker's left. He's gone away. I found a note from him on the four-year table there. What about Mr. Davis? He's in the library. Wait a moment. Don't go in there yet. He's dead. Mr. Davis? Yes, Mr. Davis. It's horrible, Flannoy. His head has been cut off. What do you mean? What happened? I don't know. I found him lying there on the library floor when I got here. He must have been killed with the axe from that suit of armor, you see. The armor's toppled over, and the falling axe must have landed on his neck. He would have to fall from a good height to sever his head, Miss Snyder. Well, the armor was mounted on a pedestal. And you can see for yourself how heavy that axe is. Yes. I see. You don't think I killed him, do you? I don't know. What are you doing here? I received a strange phone call telling me to meet Mr. Davis. When I got here, the door was open and everything was just as you see it. Have you called the police? No, not yet. Why not? I wanted to speak to you first. You wanted to speak to me with a murdered man lying there on the floor? He wasn't murdered. It was an accident. The portrait killed him. I'll let the police decide that. Now, wait a minute, Mr. Flannoy. You are not going to phone the police until you've heard what I have to say. Go on, say it. I called you because I wanted you to help me. I want that portrait before it's passed on to Mr. Davis's heirs. What do you mean? I may never be able to buy it if it becomes part of his estate. But if you tear up his check and take mine, it doesn't have to become part of his estate. It will be mine once and for all. Mr. Flannoy. Huh? Mr. Flannoy. Where's Parker? What are you doing outside Mrs. Snyder's house? I'm waiting for her, sir. Have you any idea where she is? Why do you want to know? She left a photograph at Mr. Davis's house last night, and I've come to return it. Oh, I'll take it to her, Parker. If you don't mind, sir, I'll return it myself. Is it that important? The photograph is a picture of the woman and the portrait. And if Mrs. Snyder can explain why she's been carrying it around, we might have an answer to this mystery. You suspect her, don't you, Parker? Not any more than I suspect you. What's that? You've got the portrait in your car, Mr. Flannoy. I don't try to conceal it. I recognize that frame anywhere. I'm not trying to conceal it. I'm trying to find out what your game is. I have no game? Then why did you leave that note saying you were going away? What note? Oh, don't lie to me, Parker. I saw it myself on the four-year table. You must be mistaken, sir. Today is my day off. I left the house early this morning, and I didn't write a note. Well, if you're telling the truth, then I know who did write that note. And I've got to prove it before I can take your word. Well, wait a moment, Mr. Flannoy. Where are you going? I'm going into the house with this painting. I'm going to set a trap for Mrs. Snyder. I'll go with you. What for? To help you carry the painting. Why, of course. But you'll spoil everything if you're seen, Parker. Then I won't be seen. I lied. What's the matter, Mr. Flannoy? You are not afraid of me, are you? I don't know. Every time this painting is brought misfortune to anyone, you've been alone in the house with the victim. Excuse me, Snyder. Yes, where are you, Mr. Flannoy? I'm in your living room. You have to do that. Take it down. Why? Take it down, I say. I don't want it in my living room. I don't want it in this house. But I don't understand. Then why did you buy it? Mr. Flannoy, I have been after that portrait for years. And now that I've got it, I'm going to destroy it. What are you going to do? What? There is a curse on that painting. There really is. You see, I know. Because I'm related to the girl who posed for it. Well, you never told me that. I never saw any reason to. That girl was a sister of my grandmother. And ever since her death, my family has been haunted by that portrait. But now we'll be haunted no longer. But you can't destroy a work of art like this. It isn't fair to people who admire it. It isn't fair. Nobody wants it, Mr. Flannoy. Nobody but me. Oh, but you're mistaken. There is somebody who wants it. Wants it very much. Parker? Oh, no. No, Parker's dead. Dead? How do you know? I know. Because I killed him. Right here in the living room. I'm awfully sorry. I didn't have time to dispose of the body. But I'll take care of him before I go. Oh, no, no, Mr. Flannoy. You didn't kill him. You couldn't. I have to. You see, he discovered the painting and the cars I drove up. He would have ruined all our plans. Plans? Plans? See, do you think I'd go through with any plans, knowing what I know now? Well, I'm going through with mine, Miss Snyder. And I dare say I won't be suspected. What are you talking about? Nobody knows you stole this painting from Mr. Davis. Nobody knows but you and Parker. And I can trust Parker to keep the secret. You stay where you are. Don't be afraid. I've become an expert at the art of murder. It is an art, you know, just as delicate as retouching old portraits, which happens to be a specialty of mine. You? You killed Davis and Mason and Mrs. Mason? Oh, no, no, not Mrs. Mason now. Our death was only a coincidence. But it did give me the idea for the others. See, I needed a series of deaths to completely destroy the value of that portrait. The legend was already there. All I had to do was help it along. Why? Why wanted the painting, Miss Snyder? I wondered it more than anything else in the world. An art dealer's clerk could hardly afford to pay for it. You're insane. You're... You're all a little bit insane, aren't we? Don't you come near me. Don't! Shut up, you fool. Don't! Shut up! My biscuit! Sure. But if you struggle, don't struggle. You make me miss my mark. You're crazy, devil! Be still! Are you? Knife. Now... we'll be haunted no longer. Portrait. Still, it's better than being boiled in oils. But Davis is the guy who really had an interesting death. Yes, that armored axe did a smooth job. And the police might have thought it was purely accidental. That terrible picture. It was always changing around. I guess it wasn't what they call a still life. In fact, I'm surprised there's still life left in any of the people in the story. Well, well, drown me in a cup of Lipton tea if Mary didn't make a joke. So I did. But now, I want to talk about something serious. Because this is a real occasion. A mighty important one, if you ask me. You know, folks, I heard just the other day that this coming Saturday, June 16th, is an anniversary for some people in the United States Army that deserve all the credit we can give them. They're the quartermaster corps. They make delivery under fire on all fronts. And they're 170 years old. Yes, think of it. The quartermaster corps was created in 1775 by the Continental Congress. You know, I'm a woman, not a businessman or a soldier. But I know what it is to keep every single little thing on hand that's going to be used by a whole army. It's hard enough to get food and matches and things for a family. But when you have to take care of a shopping list that has things on it like 11 million field jackets and 10 million blankets, 100 million pairs of shoes, trucks, and all of the good wholesome foods that keep our men in fighting trim, well, that's a real job. And the men of the quartermaster corps not only do all that work, but they do fighting too. That's why these...