 Autolite and its 98,000 dealers bring you Mr. Cornel Wild in tonight's presentation of Suspense. Tonight, Autolite combines fact and fiction. The fact, the murder of Mary Cecilia Rogers in New York City. The fiction, Edgar Allan Poe's solution of that crime, which he called The Mystery of Marie Roget. Our star, Mr. Cornel Wild. Have you seen any engines around, Harold? Engines, Sheriff? Well, I've seen thousands of engines all equipped with Autolite-stay-full batteries, for purring powerful and pleasing starts in all kinds of weather. Well, these engines are off the reservation. Ah, there are no reservations about an Autolite-stay-full battery. It states right on the case, needs water only three times a year in normal car use. Well, these engines didn't like life on the reservation. Life? Why the Autolite-stay-full battery has long life. Fiberglass retaining mats protect the power of every positive plate to reduce shedding and flaking and give that Autolite-stay-full longer life, as proved by tests conducted according to accepted life cycle standards. To quickly locate your nearest Autolite battery dealer, who services all makes of batteries, just call Western Union by number and ask for Operator 25. I'll tell you where you can get an Autolite-stay-full, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use. And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Autolite. Mary Cecilia Rogers was murdered in the vicinity of New York City in the summer of 1842. It was still an unsolved crime in November, when the mystery of Marie Roget was published. The author, Edgar Allen Poe, it paralleled in every essential detail the murder of Mary Rogers. Poe wrote it far from the scene of the atrocity, with only the newspaper reports of the day. Nevertheless, the subsequent confession connected with the murder of Mary Rogers confirmed not only the killer named by Poe, but all the chief details by which he arrived at his identification. And now, Autolite presents transcribed Edgar Allen Poe's mystery of Marie Roget, starring Mr. Cornel Wilde, hoping once again to keep you in suspense. Good evening. My name is Dupin. I should like to extend an invitation. Regard first a certain event which truly occurred in New York City on a warm summer night in 1842. Secondly, I invite you to implore your imagination and displace that same event intact with all of the essential facts to a cobbled Old World Paris on an identical warm and fragrant summer night in the same year. Lastly, and most interesting, I should like to invite you to attend that event. It is a murder. General design and mental character of the atrocity, indeed, the first knowledge of its occurrence, came to my attention on Wednesday night, the 25th day of June. Who is the prefect of police? I am, Monsieur. Dupin? Yes, Monsieur. Oh, thank you for coming, Monsieur. I wasn't certain my messenger would find you. This way, Monsieur. Please. Yes, Andre. Andre Delantin from Monsieur Dupin. She died harshly. Yes, yes. Beaten, choked, drowned. Yes, yes, quite harshly. She was beautiful, Monsieur. Once, perhaps, yes. Still, mademoiselle what? In life she had a name, in death she must also have a name. Any of you? I have asked, Monsieur, but none of them know her. But her clothes and jewels say she was known, Dupin. Good clothes, torn and disordered in her terrible struggle, but good. And the jewelry, not expensive, but tasteful. This woman, in my opinion, Dupin, was known. And loved, Monsieur, the prefect. No doubt. Dupin, this is why I sent for you. I've been through these things before. The newspapers will write stories. The reporters will make conjecture. Although there is no name for her now, there will eventually be a name. And then, Monsieur, I will be called upon to produce her assassins. There is so little to go on. The eyes of the public will be upon me. And my honour is at stake. And my honour too, Monsieur, if I am involved in the investigation. Dupin, listen. There is a fund at the prefecture. A sizable fund, which I am authorised to use when circumstances arise. And for your services, I am willing to make a direct and liberal proposition. Dupin, you will help me find the answer to this woman's death. I cannot refuse. A form about the mouth, as in the case of the melee drowned, Monsieur. Here, bruises, impressions of fingers. It was a sanguration by hand and by this cord, Monsieur. Yes. Doctor. Yes, Dupin. And an ingenious knot in that cord, don't you think? This is a slip knot. A sailor's knot. Sailor's knot. She was found in water. Why did she die, Monsieur? For her beauty, perhaps. For her love, her hate. It was Sunday. Observe, Doctor. There are no marks to prove she was weighted and then shaken loose. Yes. She quit life on Sunday, murdered in the dark, thrown into the river, unweighted. Monday, Tuesday, she remained as a corpse wheel on the bottom. And then on the third day, tonight, as a corpse wheel, she rose and the fisherman saw her. It is the way of corpses violently made. And not only violent, but quick, near the river bank somewhere. For what assassins could carry a burden like this long undiscovered, hm? From a dark bridge, perhaps. No. No. Too much light in people. There had to be a boat, Doctor. If she was dropped from a bridge or pushed in from the shore, the current might press her aside to be caught in the vegetation of the shallow water. She was murdered on the bank and then taken out to her grave in a boat. And there had to be a man who knew how to handle a boat in the tricky current. Who is there? It is I, the prefect. I have someone who thinks he may know her. Hm. Come in, Monsieur. With your permission, Doctor, Monsieur Dupin. Monsieur Bouvet, Monsieur. How do you do? Monsieur Bouvet has been searching since Monday for news of a Marie Roger. Monsieur Roger is an employee of Monsieur Bouvet. Correct, Monsieur? Correct. I am a parfumer. I called on her mother, Madame Roger, Monday when Marie did not appear at my shop. Madame informed me that Marie had left Sunday morning to visit her aunt at Rude Drone. She has not yet returned. I see. And what else? I cannot say, Monsieur. So far I have ascertained that she never arrived at Rude Drone. And indeed, no one has seen her since Sunday. Hm. Can you describe Marie Roger? But, of course, dark hair, almost black. Dark eyes, tall, young, vibrant. A woman, Monsieur, of great promise. Jacques Santoustache, the last to see her, mentioned to me that Mme Zell wore a frock of fine muslin. Deep blue. I knew it well. A bonnet to match goes with it. Who is Jacques Santoustache, Bouvet? Monsieur Santoustache is the accepted shooter of Marie Roger. He lodges and takes meals at the Pancyon kept by Madame Roger. He was to have gone for his betrothed at dusk Sunday and to have escorted her home. In the afternoon it rained heavily, and supposing that she would remain at her aunt's, he did not think it necessary to keep his promise. She has stayed there under similar circumstances. And where is Jacques Santoustache at this moment? Searching, and anxious as I am for Marie Roger. It is three days since Sunday. Four days, really, but three that Marie Roger has been considered missing. Your search is tardy. I... I know, Monsieur. Well, I am at your mercy. She has disappeared twice. Ah, the first time she disappeared was about three years ago. Her mother, her friends, were unable to account for her disappearance. I was distracted with anxiety and terror. Did you notify the police? In that case immediately, Monsieur. But suddenly, Marie reappeared one fine morning after being absent a week. She was in good health and, well, with somewhat the saddened air, she explained she had spent the missing week with her relative in the country. Madame Roger, who was and still is, in firm, recalled this to be a fact, and the matter was forgotten. Until now. So you did not call the police this second time she disappeared? What has happened once can happen again? What did happen that week she was away? I do not know. I do not honestly know. But you doubt the story of visiting a relative? I will not say. Show him what we have, doctor. If you will kindly step over here, Monsieur Beauvais. No, Monsieur Beauvais, if you please. Do you know this woman, Monsieur? It is her. It is Marie Roger. It is her. Why does Beauvais cry, Dupin? The girl only worked for him. He has not told us all. He is suspect, Dupin, and I will have a word with him. Say. Why does he weep for a shop girl, a grisette who has promised to another? He weeps for youth and beauty. I am Dupin, Madame Roger. May I come in? Oh, come. No, no, please sit, Madame. I understand you are not well. I have been in the lead ten years now. I will not consume a great deal of time. May I ask, did your daughter often visit relatives in other distant parts of the city? Often. And stay overnight? Often. With your approval, Madame? She was and has been free of me since her sixteenth year. That is a very frank answer, Madame. I can tell you nothing of what has happened to her. She leaves me on a morning with no enemies I know of. And do you know of her friends? Ah, I understand the intention of your remark. You refer to those besides Jacques? No, I know of none. I understand that Jacques Santostache keeps rooms here. That is true? Yes, but he is no longer here. He left once he was informed of Marie's death. Well, I do not know. But surely he understood that we would be by to question him? He was beside himself with grief. I cannot blame him. I see. Ah, I have been of no assistance where I would like to be. And yet I knew something that morning. I knew she would not come back to her mama again. You knew she would not be back, Madame? Did she take clothes a bit longer goodbye? How did you know? I knew. I knew, Monsieur. Death was very close to her that day. If you knew this, Madame, why did you allow her to venture out? I stop her? No, no. If it is not met, death will arrange a meeting. If the meeting had been here, death might have visited me too. And I am yet afraid to die. Autolight is bringing you Mr. Cornel Wilde in Edgar Allan Poe's The Mystery of Marie Boje. Tonight's presentation in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Grills. Suspense. I got him, Harold. An Indian, Sheriff? Nope. An Autolight Stafel. The battery that says right on the case needs water only three times a year in normal car use. That's the brand of battery for my car by Ginger. You mean buy Autolight Stafel batteries and you buy Ginger and Pep for a fast dependable start every time. Fiberglass retaining mats surround each positive plate to reduce shedding and flaking. And give the Autolight Stafel longer life as proved by Lifecycle Standard. Sounds like you couldn't buy a better battery with a pocket full of nuggets. So friends, see your expert Autolight Battery Dealer for an Autolight Stafel. The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use. To quickly locate your nearest Autolight Battery Dealer whose service is all makes of batteries, phone Western Union by number and ask for Operator 25. That's right. I'll gladly tell you the location of your nearest Autolight Battery Dealer. And remember from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Autolight. And now Autolight brings back to our Hollywood soundstage Mr. Cornel Wilde in Elliott Lewis' production of Edgar Allan Poe's The Mystery of Marie Roje. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Dupers again. You will recall the event we have been attending in Paris. I invite you now to keep in mind the solemn fact that Marie Roje died violently. That her lover Jacques Sainte-Stache is missing. Where she died, who administered her death for what reason remained to be known. Attend at this point another event, if you will, which was arranged by that zealous and righteous man. The Prefect of Police. Thank you for coming, Dupers. You have located the lover, Sainte-Stache. Sainte-Stache? No. He's an important, I assure you. Somewhere right now, he drinks and tries to forget me. But what I have here is important, most important. Madame Delac, if you please. Good evening, gentlemen. Good evening. This is Madame Delac. She has something of interest to tell you. And I have something of interest to show you. Good evening, Madame. I have maintained this tavern many years, right here, close to the bank of the river. No, no, no. No fear with me, Madame. I have no authority to do anything but respect your person and your thoughts. And what is this information? I saw a young woman here, Sunday. Monsieur said it was Marie Roger. It was? Definitely. Just a moment. Sunday, Madame? Yes. Mid-afternoon, later, perhaps. Where? Right here in my tavern. She arrived accompanied by a young man of dark swore the complexion. The two remained here for some time. On their departure, they took the roads through some thick woods that way. Toward the river, Dupers. And this is a secluded neighborhood. Go on, Madame. Go on. Go on. Soon after they left, a gang of miscreants made their appearance at my place of business. They behaved boisterously. They ate and drank without payment. Then left and followed the route of the young girl and the young man that same way. I see. About dusk, the same gang reappeared and we crossed the river in great haste. I see. And you are certain it was Marie Roger? Never fear. My men spoke with an unloadist driver, a man named Valence, who knew Marie Roger. He claims he saw her across the Seine on this Sunday afternoon in question with the swore the man who fits the exact description of Madame. And what else, Monsieur? I will show you. Come. I followed him through the back of the tavern into the thick woods which lined the Seine at that point. He stopped when we had come to a close thicket within which were three or four large stones forming a kind of seat with a back and footstool. Note, Dupin, a white petticoat here. Here, silk scarf, parasol, gloves, bucket handkerchief. Inspect the handkerchief, Dupin. Thank you. You note the name Marie Roger embroidered there? Yes, yes. So this is the place she met her death? Well, of course it is. I have found it. Well, look. Look, the earth is crampled where she struggled. And over here, there are bushes still broken. Every evidence of a terrible struggle. And here, the fence has been taken down and the ground shows that some heavy burden was dragged along it toward the river. Well, come, come. Look for yourself. There. What say you now? I am wondering. Wonder? Well, we have facts now, sir. Important facts. Do you recall a strip of one of the unfortunate girls Petticoat had been tied about her mouth probably to prevent her screams? I do. This was done by fellows who had no pocket handkerchiefs. Miscreants, Dupin. Miscreants such as those who visited Madame Deluxe Tavern and later went the same way as Marie Roger and her companion. There are many such gangs about here. All we have to do is locate them. And I know how to do that. That night, the shrill cries of the Paris newsboys proclaimed the prefect's resolve. He offered a reward of 20,000 francs and a full pardon for any king's evidence. It was an accepted conclusion that Marie Roger had been waylaid and slain by a gang of miscreants in the vicinity of Madame Deluxe Tavern. Ah. Well, are you defeated, Monsieur Dupin, now that I have solved the mystery of Marie Roger? No, Monsieur. I have doubled the reward. Soon one of the miscreants will come forward and you'll see 40,000 francs should be temptation enough. 20,000 was temptation enough. No one will come forward, Monsieur. A gang such as his hopes for would be composed of men who have never seen more than 100 francs at one time. 20,000 would bring all of them, if they had any knowledge of Marie Roger's murder. Oh, they're just waiting. You know that. Waiting when each is in jeopardy because of the other. We shall see, Dupin. Wait. It was one man. A man who dragged the body of mademoiselle to the river's edge. A gang, even two men, could have carried it. Oh. A gang would have lifted it over the fence easily instead of taking a fence down, as it was taken down. One man labored hard. My conjecture is as good as yours. Are you talking of Santa's stash? No. No. He is quite ungilty. Monsieur, allow me to point out that the newspapers, the police, all have identified themselves with what apparently happened. We must consider what did not happen. First, a gang did not set upon her and murder her. Secondly, Marie Roger had no intention of visiting her aunt at Rue des Droits when she left her mother-in-law the last Sunday morning. Dupin, if you have confident information, explain yourself. Same information as you. Nothing else. You said she had no intention of visiting her aunt that day. Why do you say that? Monsieur, consider what might have happened if her intended. Jacques Santa Stache had called for her at her aunt's and discovered she was not there, that she had not been there all day. He would have been chagrined, suspicious, angry. Santa Stache would have been all these. Something for Marie Roger to worry about when she returned home. But nothing to worry about if Marie did not intend to return home. Point to consider, perhaps. Go on. Consider that she kept a rendezvous instead. This we know. A rendezvous with a swarthy man. We have been told that by two witnesses who saw him. Now, Monsieur, I ask you, as I have asked myself, did this swarthy companion allow Marie to be slain before his eyes? Or was he himself slain trying to help her? If so, where is his body? He left her before she was set upon, obviously. Did he leave her alone in such a dark district? They quarreled. Indeed they did. Another question. Marie Roger's death is known everywhere in France. Why has he not come forward to help us clear up the mystery? Many reasons. Perhaps he is married. He's left. He's uninformed. He has a swarthy complexion. A sea complexion. A well-attested fact. Now, accumulate that with the cord that was tied about her neck in a sailor's knot. Monsieur Dupin, I have got the need of a skilled boatman to handle a boat on the river to dispose of the body. But it could be A1. No, it could not. What? Marie Roger was a gay, not an abject girl. No common seaman for her. An officer, a naval officer, Monsieur. Like the one who might have led her into a false elopement the first time she disappeared. Three years passed. The approved time for a French man of war to consume and circling the globe. The officer returns, thinking of the same coquette. Marie Roger, the same bargain. What he has managed to do once, he can do again. Marie meets him Sunday for this purpose. Then she thinks the better of an elopement and refuses to accompany him. Santa Stache has captured her love. Her former lover slays her in quick anger. He drags her body to the river, commandeers a boat. Where do I find him? On whatever ship has arrived from the world cruise. Here is his name. What is his name, du pa? Inquire for the name of the young officer who has applied for leave to get married. But there must be many such among the ship's complement returning after a long cruise. Agreed. But, Monsieur le Perfect, there is only one naval officer who has returned to his ship without a bride. Andre! Andre! We leave it once for the naval yards! It has been an interesting evening. And now I issue a last invitation, my friends. I invite you to retain all that you have heard. And employ this time, instead of your imagination, your sense of reality. For Marie Roger of Paris was truthfully Mary Rogers of New York. Let your reality move you back to New York City on a winter day some months after the event described. In the darkening afternoon inside a grey stone building, I invite you to attend another event I think you will find significant. Ensign Robert Bryant, who have been found guilty of the murder of Mary Cecilia Rogers. It is the judgment of this court that you be hanged by the neck until you are dead. Spence, presented by AutoLite, tonight's star, Mr. Cornel Wilde. This is Harlow Wilcox speaking for AutoLite, the world's largest independent manufacturer of automotive electrical equipment. In 28 plants from coast to coast, AutoLite makes over 400 products for cars, trucks, tractors, planes, boats and industry. These products include bumpers, die castings, industrial thermometers and batteries such as the famous AutoLite Stafol, ignition engineered AutoLite spark plugs, both standard and resistor types, voltage regulators, wire and battery cable, AutoLite bullseye sealed beam units, and AutoLite original service parts for all AutoLite electrical systems. AutoLite is proud to serve the greatest names in the industry. So, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with AutoLite. Next week, one of the most terrifying half hours ever presented on suspense. A young couple and a mad woman, and what happened to them on a country road? Our star, Mr. Frank Lovejoy, that's next week on Suspense. Suspense is transcribed and directed by Elliot Lewis. With music composed by Lucian Morrowick and conducted by Love Gluskin. Edgar Allen posed the mystery of Marie Roget, was adapted for suspense by E. Jack Newman. In tonight's cast, John Daner was heard as the prefect of police. Others in the cast were Lou Merrill, Janette Nolan, Paula Winslow, William Johnstone and Edgar Barrier. And remember, next week, Mr. Frank Lovejoy in On a Country Road. You can buy AutoLite state full batteries, AutoLite original service parts and AutoLite standard or resistor type spark plugs at your neighborhood AutoLite dealers. Switch to AutoLite. Good night. This is the CBS Radio Network.