 And now, Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world, Roma Wines, present. Suspense. Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Mr. Brian Dunleve, a star of Lazarus Walks, a suspense play produced, edited, and directed for Roma Wines by William Spear. Suspense. Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills 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. Do your happiness in entertaining guests. Do your enjoyment of everyday meals. Yes, right now, a glassful would be very pleasant, as Roma Wines bring you Brian Dunleve in a remarkable tale of... Suspense. This is the truth. Do you understand? The truth. It must be the truth. It has to be. I, Robert Winsley Graham, a doctor and psychiatrist by profession, do hereby of my own free will and volition, albeit with deepest regret, make the following full and complete statement relative to that all but unbelievable series of events, which has brought such disaster and misfortune to my house, and particularly to my poor wife, Isabel. It had its beginning properly speaking some two months ago to be exact on the evening of August 25th. We were in the drawing room, Isabel, at the piano practicing, as she said. Her Aunt Jane and I on opposite sides. Isabel, what's the matter? I don't know. I can't seem to keep my mind on anything anymore. Even my music. Nerves. Nerves. I'm sorry, but I don't believe in beating about the bush. You're an artist. You've got talent. There's no sense in you're trying to subordinate yourself to somebody else. Aunt Jane, that's enough. I'm not subordinating myself to anyone. Really, Aunt Jane, you mustn't interfere, you know? Robert doesn't want me to go back on stage. Oh, darling, it isn't that I don't want you to go back. I'm proud of you. You know that. It's only because I think... because I know that going back to a professional career at your present mental condition could be terribly harmful. Yes, I know, Robert. I know you're right. After all, I am a doctor. It's my business to know these things. I'll get it probably in the hospital. Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Graham. Who? Oh, yes. Yes, why, of course. When would you like to see me? All right, fine. No, no, no trouble at all. Very well, I'll be expecting you. Goodbye. Well, good heavens, who do you suppose that was? Who? Roger Holcomb. Do you remember the case? Roger Holcomb. Roger Holcomb? I remember it. Of course you do. The fellow who was brought back from the dead is the newspapers put it about a year ago. Oh, yes. You know, he really was dead for four full minutes as far as medical science was concerned, and then Bates brought him around. It was a nine days wonder at the time. What does he want to see you about? You know, something to do with his experience, obviously. He was in a terribly agitated state, poor fellow. He'd been walking up and down in front of the house for an hour, trying to get up courage during the bell. Finally, he phoned from the corner drugstore. Oh, the poor man. Why in the world would he do that? Anxiety, neurosis. They hounded him in the most shocking way when he got out of the hospital, you know, preachers and spiritualists and movie agents and just plain fakers. People trying to find out if he remembered anything in the four minutes when he was supposed to be dead. And people just trying to exploit him. Oh, that's notoriety. Some thrive on it, some don't. One man's meat is another man's poison. Well, that must be Holcomb now. I'll take him into the office. Dr. Graham? Yes. You're Roger Holcomb? Yes. Come in. Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holcomb. Is it? Well, sit down. Why did you come to me, Mr. Holcomb? Well, I was told that you specialized in strange cases, things that other men can't explain. Yes, that's true in a way. You know what happened when I got out of the hospital? How they followed me and questioned me, hounded me day and night, trying to find out if I remembered anything, if I'd experienced anything beyond the grave. Yes, I remember that. Then you remember that my answer was always the same, that I remembered nothing, that I knew nothing. Well, I was wrong. Oh. What did you experience during those four minutes? I don't know. But it must have been something, something I don't even dare to think about. How do you know this? Well, it happened the first time on a boat trip, which I'd taken to recover my health. I found myself chatting with a woman who was seated at my table in the dining salon. She found occasion, such women often will, to mention her age. She said, after all, I'm not yet 40. And then it happened. What happened? From somewhere came crashing into my mind the certain knowledge of the exact day and year of that woman's birth. And with it, a compulsion to speak out, a compulsion which I could no more have resisted than I could have resisted breathing. I said, Madam, you were born in May, weren't you? May 30th. And then I added the date, the year 1900. She was well over 40. She lied to me. It's an innocent enough thing. But I had known the truth and been forced to speak it. And I have been ever since. Wow. And this condition has existed only since you're... Since my four minutes beyond the grave. Yes. It's as though... Well, this will sound... It's as though in that brief time I had glimpsed eternity that I'd seen revealed all truth of all the ages. Now, I know that sounds foolish, but... This is most amazing. Tell me, you have a family and friends who are understanding... Oh, for heaven's sake, doctor, don't you understand what I mean? Yes, I had a family, friends. Girl, I was going to marry. Today I'm an outcast. A pariah. I'm shunned. Feared. Hated. Hated. Mr. Holcomb, I believe that this condition is very real to you. Causes you very real anguish. And I want to help you. Do you think you can? I'm confident that I can. Do you suppose you could arrange to stay with me here for weeks or months, if necessary? I'd do anything. Anything in the world. To be a normal man again. Well, you'll have your own quarters. You'll be quite comfortable, I assure you. I'm sure. It's a lovely house, but I've seen of it. Yes, I'm rather lucky. I'm interested in research, primarily. Not much money in that, you know. But a couple of years ago, I came into quite a nice inheritance. The house went with it. What is it? What's the matter? The inheritance was not yours. It was your wife's. The house is your wife's. You are penniless. That's true. I don't know why I lied to you. I'm pride, I suppose. I'm sorry. I told you I couldn't help it. I'll go now. No, no, please. It was my fault. It's a small matter. But you see now that... I want to help you. Do you believe me now? I believe, Mr. Holcomb, either that you are far more old than I realized, or that, in the months to come, you and I must venture into a realm never before explored by mortal man. For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Brian Dunleavy in Lazarus Walks, a radio play by Robert L. Richards from a story by J. Marion Speed. Roma Wines' presentation tonight in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills, Suspense. Between the acts of suspense, this is Ken Niles for Roma Wines. These crisp autumn days, there's real pleasure in coming home to a welcome glass of Roma Grand Estate Wine. Yes, for evenings at home or small get-togethers with friends, it's smart to serve Grand Estate Wines. You can serve Grand Estate Wines proudly, to anyone, anytime. For each Grand Estate Wine, a limited bottling by Roma, is born of choicest grapes, then guided to superb taste richness by patient skill, America's finest winemaking resources, and necessary time. Win compliments from your guests with Grand Estate California Wines. For entertaining, medium sherry, ruby port or golden muscatel. For dining, burgundy or sautern. Remember Grand Estate Wines presented by Roma, America's greatest vintner. And while there's time, take advantage of present low Roma prices. Buy a case of assorted Roma Wines for the holidays. Do it now and save money. And now Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage Brian Donlevy in Lazarus Walks. A tale well-calculated to keep you in suspense. It's really fantastic and yet it was true. I checked the facts again and again. He could not possibly have known yet he knew. Can you imagine what this meant to a man of science? If I could fathom the depths of Roger Holcomb's mind, I could make a contribution to the body of scientific knowledge absolutely without parallel in modern times. There remained the problem of Isabelle. I was aware of the danger, of course, but I believed I could control the situation. I determined to proceed. Actually, Holcomb's presence made itself felt almost immediately. The first incident came after he had been with us scarcely a week. Isabelle, please stop that playing and listen to me. Aunt Jane, you know Robert has said I mustn't talk about it. It's bad for me. I don't care what Robert says. I've been sick that all. He's made you sick. That's ridiculous. Maybe it's just that he's afraid of losing you. Maybe he's even afraid of losing your money, but I'm absolutely convinced that whether he's meant it or not, he's made you believe there's something of matter with you that isn't. Aunt Jane, I simply forbid you to talk this way. Isabelle, Isabelle, do something before it's too late. Do? What? Get away, leave him, divorce him, anything. Aunt Jane, you don't know what you're saying. Oh, I hope we're not interrupting. Of course not, darling. Hello, Roger. Hello, Isabelle. This is Parton. Good afternoon. How are you feeling, Roger? Better, I think. I think it would be better if we didn't discuss our states of mind, Isabelle. Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry. Well, would you like me to play something for you? You know, I think I'm beginning to get the feel of it again. Really, I do. You're sure we haven't interrupted some conversation? Of course not. We were just discussing how helpful you've been in getting Isabelle back to her work again. Roger. No, you are not. You were telling Isabelle to divorce her husband. Why? Isabelle. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Roger. Roger, come back here. Isabelle, is that true? You brought him in here deliberately. Is that true? It doesn't matter. I suppose you've known how I felt for a long time. Yes, I'm afraid I have. Robert, it was all so silly. She didn't mean it. It was just that she... I did mean it. I'm sorry, Isabelle, but I've been under this roof too long as it is. Oh, Aunt Jane, you're not leaving us. It's the best, Isabelle. Yes, I think it is decidedly best to go at once. It was this incident which gave me my first insight into the relationship which was destined to develop between Isabelle, Roger, and myself. The first and most obvious result was that Isabelle and I became further estranged as each day passed. It was difficult to speak of even the most casual things with this strangely terrifying specter of truth always at our elbow. The situation reached its inevitable climax the evening that Leopold Serinsky, the famous conductor of the Los Angeles Symphony, was to call on Elizabeth with a view to a resumption of her professional career under his auspices. I gave a great deal of thought to that evening. It had to be handled with the greatest of tact and fear. Robert, you... you will help me, won't you? Of course I will, darling. Robert, does he have to have dinner with us tonight? Roger? Isabelle, you know how I stand on my... Oh, yes, I know, but just this once. Even once, Isabelle, to keep him in his room like a spoiled child when we have guests might undo everything I've accomplished in weeks. I know, darling, of course you're right, but... Well, Roger, come in. Robert. Yes? I was wondering if I might be excused just tonight. You're having dinner with us, Roger. Must I? You know you must, Roger, and you know why. Roger, don't you want to meet Mr. Serinsky? He's really a wonderful person. Yes, indeed, I would very much, but... You know, Roger, I made my debut with him in 1934. I did a concert with him every year until... until... Isabelle was very talented. I was. I am. Roger, I'm going to play with him again, you know. He wants me to open the season in November. Can you imagine what it means to me? I'm so glad, Isabelle. And Robert has finally given his consent, haven't you, dear? Robert? I'm sorry. What was it you said, Isabelle? I said you'd given your consent to my playing with Serinsky. I... Isabelle, you know I don't want... you to think that I'd ever stand in your way. Yes, I... I know, dear. I'll do the Emperor Concerto, and you'll come to hear me. You do want to, don't you, Roger? Well, I... Please, Isabelle, don't ask me things that I can't... What's the matter? What's the matter with both of you? You act as though you thought I wouldn't be able to appear. As though the whole idea were hopeless or something. Isabelle, please. I am going to play. And I'll be better than I ever was. You know I will, don't you? Don't you? Yes, yes, of course, Isabelle. You'll play wonderfully. No. No, Robert, no, that's untrue. You're very certain that Isabelle will be prevented from ever playing again... by death. Death? Oh, Isabelle, forgive me, forgive me. By death? No. No, it's not true. Tell me it isn't. Roger. Roger, who's going to die? Answer me. Roger, do you hear me? Answer me! Answer me! When Sorenski arrived, I told him that it would be quite impossible for Isabelle to leave her room. The concert was cancelled and, indeed, to my knowledge, she has never touched the piano since that day. By now, to even the most casual observer, it must appear only natural that Isabelle had every motive for a desperate, almost paranoid hatred of Roger Holcomb. This much was clear to me, the rest not yet. As a precautionary measure, I prescribed a drug for Isabelle, which she, at last, consented to take. I gave her her own supply and she administered it to herself as I had directed. But one thing, from any point of view, was certain. I had to keep Roger and Isabelle apart. Perhaps what I feared was indeed inevitable. I honestly did not think so at the time. Roger. It's me, Isabelle. What do you want? Let me in, please. No. Please. It's terribly important. Robert said... I know. But he said... he said it would be all right this time. Are you sure? Yes. Yes, please. All right. What do you want? I want to talk to you, that's all. What about? That's so important. Roger, why don't you ever leave your room anymore? Can't you guess? Do you think I hate you? Oh, Isabelle, I don't know what to think anymore. You do, don't you? I warned him. I told him it would happen. Now I'm going mad up here, thinking of the anguish I've caused you. But Roger, I don't... you must believe me. I know what it's been like for you having me here. Roger. Roger, you see? You see, for the first time in my life, I think my husband is wrong about something. Wrong? Yes. Don't you see? He's been worried about both of us, and so this distrust has grown up between us. Well, I don't distrust you, Isabelle. You've been more wonderful. But you're afraid of me. And that amounts to the same thing. And it's bad for both of us. It's hurting both of us. I've often felt I wanted to talk to you, to beg your pardon. Oh, Roger, you don't have to do that. We're both... we're both sick. But I think if we saw each other sometimes, if we talked the whole thing out, it would help us both. Does Robert think so too? No. Then he didn't tell you it was all right to see me? No. I lied to you. You what? I lied to you. You lied to me? And it didn't happen. Isabelle, don't you see? I am getting well. It didn't happen. I know. I know, Roger. I don't think it does happen anymore except with... except with Robert. With Robert? But what makes you think that I... I don't know. Something about the way he acts, the way he is. But, Isabelle, he is curing me then. Perhaps you should have come on. Don't you understand? We must see each other. We must talk. Listen. Isabelle. Robert, something's happened that I must tell you. Please, you're completely over. Robert, it's... I must insist. Isabelle, why did you do this? I'm sorry. You'll have to have a sedative right away. Isabelle, get the bottle from your room. Mine? Yes. Yes, hurry. All right. Robert, she lied to me. Yes, yes, I know. But, Roger, I must absolutely forbid you to talk now. You must trust me. Well... All right. But later I want to have a long talk. Of course we shall. Here it is. And I brought my hypodermic, too. I'm glad you did the other one's mislaid somewhere. Will you give it to him, please? I? Yes, this is upsetting me rather badly. My hands are shaking. Oh, Robert, I'm terribly sorry. No matter now. Give him the hypodermic. In the upper arm. That's right. Yes. There. Thank you. Leave us now, please, Isabelle. Yes. All right. How are you feeling now, Roger? Huh. I'm fine, Robert. I think I'm better than I have been in months. I know you're better. That's why I was so upset. Do you see? Well, why, Robert? I can't tell you all my reasons now, but you must trust me and believe in me. Why? I do. It's only that I'm afraid for your health. Ah! Roger! No! You're afraid of murder. It was clear to me now. I knew I must take immediate action. I knew that the most terrible consequences might result if Isabelle were alone with Roger Holcomb even for a moment. For he knew. He said so. There was no other explanation. I thought it through most carefully, and yet no plans are perfect. No man is infallible. Isabelle. Robert. You frightened me. What were you doing? Why? Nothing. Don't lie to me, Isabelle. I'm not! I was... You were coming from Roger's room. No. No, I swear I wasn't. Isabelle, don't you understand that you're sick? That I've insisted on these things for your own good and his? All right. I was going to talk to him, but I haven't. Oh, Isabelle, why do you try to tell me that? But it's true, Robert. Really true. Is it? Roger. Roger. What? What's the matter? Look, it is. He's dead. Dead? The hypodermic by his side. The drug. Your drug. Your hypodermic. But it's only a sedative. Accepted in large quantities. That's fatal. You know that. Oh, Robert, no. No, listen to me. Oh, Isabelle, why? Why when I warned you? Robert, look at me. Look at me. It's Isabelle. It's your wife. You can't... No. Now, where are you going? Robert, come back here. I'm going to call the police. Even though it did not come to me as a shock, even from my point of view, as a scientist, it was terrible enough. Yet it had to be done, and I had done it. I did not speak to her as we waited, and she made no further attempt to appeal to me. The police arrived. I told the story with as little emotion as possible. Yeah? Yeah, their fingerprints are all right on both the bottle and the hypodermic. Those would be my wife's, of course. They both belong to her. Is that true, Mrs. Graham? Yes. Dr. Graham, do I understand you're formally charging your wife with the murder of Roger Holcomb? You could hardly expect me to do that, could you, Inspector? I am simply telling you the facts. Yeah? Well, you've carefully avoided saying anything definite as to your suspicions, doctor. But I get the distinct impression she hated him. My wife has been mentally ill for some time. There are many people who can testify to that. She will plead insanity, Inspector, of course. Well, Dr. Graham, I can't tell you how sorry I am, but the things you've told me add up to only one thing, as you yourself obviously recognize. Yes. Your wife, Isabelle Graham, murdered Roger Holcomb. What did you say? I said your wife, Isabelle Graham, murdered Roger Holcomb. I did. What? The truth is I murdered him. No plans are perfect. No man is infallible. Yes, I killed Roger Holcomb, and I had planned to dispose of Isabelle for many months. I had never loved her. I had loved only science, and I wanted her money, and Holcomb found it out. That was the risk I ran, that any chance lie in his presence, either by Isabelle or myself, would bring out the truth. And it did. I had no alternative once he discovered that, but to kill him. It was easy enough to throw the blame on Isabelle, but I had not counted on that terrible compulsion for the truth. The conflict of Roger Holcomb's and its power over me, did it transfer itself at his death to me, or was it conscience? It is a pity that it had to end this way. It was a fascinating case. Suspense. Presented by Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. And now this is Ken Niles bringing back to our suspense microphone the star of tonight's play, Brian Donlevy. Well, Brian, we can't give you an Oscar for your outstanding performance tonight, but Roma does want you to enjoy this basket of fine grand estate wines. Grand estate wines, well, that kind of Oscar has taste appeal, Ken. Right, you are, Brian. Here in your basket is Grand Estate California Burgundy, and Grand Estate Burgundy at mealtime really makes a difference you can taste. Yes, Grand Estate Burgundy brings out all the taste goodness in juicy roast beef, adds to your enjoyment of a good steak, abrasive sizzling chops, or even simple hamburgers. You're killing me. I'm starved. I never eat before a broadcast. Well, then you'll especially enjoy Grand Estate Burgundy with supper tonight. For Grand Estate Burgundy, like all Grand Estate wines, is a limited bottling of rare distinction, a wine born of the choicest grapes, then with infinite patience guided to mellow perfection by the unmatched skill and resources of Roma Master Vintners. Remember the name, Grand Estate Wine, presented by Roma, America's greatest vintner. I'll remember, Ken. And speaking of great names, I understand that you have Jack Carson all set for suspense next week, a comedy show, I suppose. Come, come, Brian. Mr. Carson will, I think, astonish a great many listeners who think of him as a gay, mad jokesmith. They'll hear him really give out with a drama when he appears on suspense next Thursday. He'll play a man who wants his freedom badly enough to kill somebody for it. Well, that I've got to hear. Well, thanks, Ken, and Bill, and Ludd. It's been swell as usual. Well, thank you again, Brian. And we all think you're great in paramounts two years before the mast. Mr. Jack Carson, as star of Suspense. Produced and directed by William Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California. Stay tuned for the thrilling adventures of the FBI in peace and war, following immediately over most of these stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.