 The Columbia Network takes pleasure in bringing you suspense, suspense, a new series of programs with one strict purpose in view, your entertainment. Each week at this time, CBS sets aside 30 minutes to excite you, to mystify you, and on occasion to horrify you with a catalog of the world's great thrillers, dramas from the stage and screen, from fiction and radio, dramas that bring you. The second offering of a new series is a unique one, certainly it is one of the very few pieces of suspense literature that somehow manages to tickle your funny bone while busily engaged in tingling your spine. Make no mistake though, nobody's kidding. CBS presents its adaptation of John Collier's well-known short story, Wet Saturday. Yes, it's a wet Saturday. Never saw it rain harder. I'm Princey, Frederick Princey, just an ordinary family man. I have a son, a daughter and a wife. I might be out golfing now if it hadn't been for the rain. I'm Mrs. Princey. I plan to drive over to the nurseries this afternoon for some arbiters. The board, as you know. Oh, the whole lot of them make me sick. Yes, I'm George, son and heir. I had a date to go punting. Puntings. Couldn't find the blasted punting as well, so I'm home too. I'm Millicent. Play croquet. Why happened to him? The mallet. Yes, that's the Princey family. We find them at home. Mrs. Princey, Millicent, George sprawled on a couch, Mr. Princey, biting on a dry pipe. Their living room is dull and overstuffed. Rain beats at the windows. They are any middle-class family at home on a wet day, except for one small item. As you sit with them in the living room, you can see through the door to the sun porch a pair of men's feet encased in black boots. They look like the feet of a curate. There's a tenseness in the room. The air is charged with excitement, but the feet are very still. Don't keep staring at them. Listen to me, all of you. Don't you see? They'd hang her. That's what they do. They'd hang her. Oh, Fred, it's too awful. Awful? It's catastrophic. A supposedly sweet, gentle, intelligent girl, respected, loved by the whole village like this? Think of the publicity, the disgrace. You think I'm going to resign from the bench, the best way? Sell out and live in some foggy hotel abroad? Oh, no, no. No. No, I kill myself. I will. I will. Don't be a fool. Any more than you have been, the governor of England. Be quiet. Wouldn't be so bad if it were you. Everybody in the village knows you're not responsible. George. Yes? Get off that couch. Sit up on your spine. You might be of a little use here if you could think. Listen, governor, this isn't my funeral. Oh, shut up. As long as I can remember, George, you've been a trial and a tribulation to me. Oh, I can't stand it. I can't stand it. You've got to stand it, my dear. And keep that hysterical note out of your voice. You hear? Yes. We are... we are talking about the weather. Now, George. Yeah? George, if he fell down the old well, say, striking his head several times, what about it, eh? I really don't know, governor. What about it? Don't be an ass. I'm asking you to think. He'd have had to hit the side several times in 30 or 40 feet and at all the correct angles. No. No, I'm afraid not. I'm afraid not. We'll have to go over it all again, Millicent. Oh, no, father. No, no. I couldn't. I couldn't. Millicent, we must go over it all again. Oh, Fred, you're torturing her. Oh, face facts, mate. With him lying there, there's no use pretending it's a picnic. They might hang you, Millicent. Oh, stop that shaking. Stop it here. You must stop it. Just keep your voice quiet. Millicent, we are talking of the weather. We will proceed. I should have thought of those boots, Millicent. I'm not moving them. Oh, sit up, George. Stop shuffling your feet. Now, Millicent, look at me. Answer me truthfully. You hear? Answer me. You were in the croquet corpse. Who knew you were in love with this wretched curate? Oh, the whole village. They've been sniggling about it at the pub for three years past. Ah, what a filthy mess. Millicent, we continue. You were on the croquet corpse. Yes. You were putting the croquet set into its box? Yes. It was starting to rain. I was carrying the balls and mallets into the sun porch. The box was there. You heard someone enter the garden gate and come across the yard? Yes. Could you see who it was? Oh, not at first. I was going into the sun porch. I threw down all the mallets at the red one and turned around. It was withers? Yes. So you called him, loudly? Did you call him loudly? Could anyone have heard? No, Father, I'm sure not. I didn't really call him. I just spoke his name. He saw me as I went to the door. He just waved his hand and he came over. How can I find out from you whether there was anywhere about? Whether he could have been seen. I'm sure not, Father. I'm quite sure. So, you both went into the sun porch? Yes. It was raining hard then. What did he say? He said, hello, Milly. And excuse her coming in the back way, but he set out to walk over to Lisbon. Yes. And he said, passing the park, he'd seen the house and suddenly thought of me. And he thought he'd just look in for a moment. He... he had something to tell me. Go on. He said he was so happy. He wanted me to share it. He'd heard from the bishop he was to have a vicarage. And it wasn't only that. It meant he could marry. Then he began to get all confused. And of course, I thought he meant me. Don't tell me what you thought. Tell me exactly what he said, nothing else. Well... well... Oh, stop crying. So, actually, you can no longer afford. Tell me what happened. He said, no. He said it wasn't me. It's Ella Braxton-David. And he was sorry. And all that. Then he went to go. Then? I went mad. He turned his back. I had the red mallet of the croquet fit in my hand. I forgot to drop it in the box when he came. Did you shout or scream? I mean, as you hit him? No. I'm sure I didn't. Did he? Come on, speak up. No, father. And then? I threw it down. I came straight in here. Oh, poor baby. No. No, I don't leave a child alone, friend. Not such a child, Mater. Milly, I had no idea you... Keep quiet. I'm thinking. You see, George, he probably told people he was going to listen. Certainly no one knows he came here for he didn't decide until he crossed the park. He might have been attacked in the woods. We must consider every detail a curate with his head battered in. Don't bother. Don't. A curate, head battered in. Now, who would want to kill with us? Kill with us? Well, I would with pleasure. How'd you do, Mrs. Princey? Oh, sis, don't pray. You mustn't get up for me, Mrs. Princey. You either, listen to my word. I wanted to ask you about those danger bulbs, Princey. Took a shortcut on account of the rain and walked right in, knew you wouldn't mind. Oh, he had your father. My dear, we can all have our little jokes. Don't pretend to be shocked. This way, Smollett. This care, facing the fireplace. Sit down, Mother. Just straightening the curtains to the sun porch, dear. It looks so gloomy out there. Might as well shut the rain out. Just talking about a little theoretical, cure-at-killing, Smollett. You know, young people these days like thrillers. Pass on his side. Justifiable pass on his side. Have you heard about Ella Braggden, Davis? I should be most properly laughed at. Why? Why should you be laughed at, Smollett? Oh, and the shot in that direction myself. She half said yes, too. She told most people. Now it'll look as if I got turned down for a white rat in a dog collar. Oh, too bad. Oh, a fortune of war. Yes, fortune of war. Art how it happens, isn't it? Sit down, Smollett. Millison, console Captain Smollett with your best light conversation. You too, Mother. George and I have something to look at. Outside is this rain, you know. Bad, very bad. Come, George. Right, old Governor. Maybe we'll need raincoats, what? Oh, I don't think so. Just make yourself at home, Smollett. Make yourself at home. A cigarette, Captain Smollett? Thank you. Thank you. A nasty day to be going out. It's something about the old will. Just off the Sand Forge door, you know. This terrible, southern weather seems to have loosened some of the stones. Oh, too bad. Dash too bad. Spoils the tennis and croquet. You don't like this, doesn't it, Millie? Doesn't it, Millie? Oh, yes, it does. She was practicing out on the croquet court earlier, but, uh... Oh, do pull your chair near the fire, Captain. It was so damp, we thought it would be cozy to light it. Thank you. I'm quite comfortable. I, uh... I hope you don't feel too bad about it, Anna Davis. Can't always win. Can't see, though, what you women see in these bloodless clerics. Oh, I always thought Mr. Withers was, uh... is a very charming man. I'd agree, but why should anyone want to marry him? You wouldn't want to marry him, would you, Millie? Not now. Maybe that. Are you? Oh, no, of course not. Smollett. Yes, yes, Prince Hin. Good Lord, man, you come in all of a sudden, eh? Yes, I did. Oh, don't mind this old, double-battle shotgun. Been working on it. Smollett, may I have your attention for a minute? There's something on the sun porch I'd like to show you. Why, yes, yes, of course. Smollett. George and I went out to see if we could shoot some rats, which have been driven out of the old well by the high water. Afraid they might get into the house. Now, you must listen to me very carefully. Very carefully, or you will be shot by accident. Prince Hin, what's got into you? You heard me ask, as you came in, who would kill withers? You also heard Millison make a comment, an unguarded comment. Well, what of it? Very little. Unless you were to hear that withers had met a violent end this very afternoon. And that, my dear Smollett, is what you are going to hear. What? Withers? Yes. Who killed him? Millison. Yes, it's a mess. And, of course, you would have remembered and guessed. Maybe, yes, I suppose I should. Therefore, you constitute a problem. Why did she kill him? Oh, it's one of those disgusting things. Pityable, too. She eluded herself and he was in love with her. Good heavens, Millie. Oh, yes, of course, I see. He had told her about the Davis girl. I understand. Now, I have no wish, as you will comprehend, that she should be proved either a lunatic or a murderous. I could hardly go on living here after that. I suppose not. On the other hand, you know about it. Yes, I see that makes me your problem. I am wondering if I could keep my mouth shut. If I promise... I am wondering if I could believe you. But if I promise... Things went smoothly, yes. But not if there was any sort of suspicion, any questioning. You would be afraid of being an accessory. Why, I don't know. I do. What are we going to do? I can't see anything else. You'd never be full enough to do me in. You can't get rid of two corpses. No, I regard it as a better risk than the other. It could be an accident. Or you and Wither could both disappear. There are possibilities in that. Listen, you can't... I can, but there may be a way out. There is. Smollett, you gave it to me yourself. I... I did what? You said you would kill Wither's. You have a motive. I was joking. Of course you saw that. You are always joking. Listen, Smollett. I can't trust you. You must trust me. Else I will kill you now in the next minute. I mean that. You can choose between dying and living. God! Now, there's the old well just outside the Sunport store. That's where I'm going to put Wither's. No one outside knows he has come up here this afternoon. No one will ever look there for him unless you tell them. You must give me evidence that you have murdered Wither's. I murdered him? Why do you want that? So that I shall be dead sure that you will never open your lips on the subject. I see. What evidence? George, hit him in the face. Sure. George, don't... Keep out of this. Captain, you should be more careful. Look what your teeth did to my knuckles. Again, George. Okay. I can't stand it. Keep quiet. You women, keep out of this. I'm sorry, Smollett, but there must be traces of a struggle between you and Wither's. Then it will not be altogether safe for you to go to the police. But... Can't you take my word, man? I will when we are finished. George. Yeah? Get the crookie married. Right, Governor. Take your handkerchief to it in there on the Sunport floor. Yeah. Yes. I got it, Governor. There, Captain. There's the weapon. As I told you, Smollett, now you just grasp the end that mashed Wither's head. I shall shoot you if you don't. Good Lord, you can't! All right. There. That's it. Now deposit it out by the side of the house, out of the rain, of course. No. Wait, George. Huh? First you'd better pull a few hairs out of his head and put them under the nails of Wither's right hand. Oh, Prince, you've gone mad. Do you know what you're doing? With this gun? Yes. Go ahead, George. Sorry to mush your hair up, Captain. Shut up, Smollett. That's all we need. Now, for Wither's, we'll fix it right up. Be right with you, Governor. Smollett, you may turn around. Wither's is just there in the sun porch. Draw back the curtain. Yes. Messy. But we'll get him fixed up. Now, you, Smollett, you've just got to drag him through the door and dump him in the old well. Just beyond the door, Captain. I won't touch him. I won't try. All right. Stand aside. Out of range, George. There's only one place I want this bullet to go. Father. Father. Keep quiet. My aim's not to go... Wait a minute. Wait a minute. That's... I've... Better, Smollett. Much better. Go on now. In here, you'll have to take him outside. By the shoulders ought to do it, Captain. Keep quiet, George. Go on, Smollett. Go on. You've seen dead men before. Bring him. I'll just hold the gun here to make sure that everything goes all right. Oh, mother. Come away from the deal, window dear. Don't look. But, Captain Smollett, your father is a very resourceful man, Millicent. I'm sure what he's doing is right. But the Captain... It mustn't question your dear father. I say, are you two still at it? There's enough trouble around here without blubbering. I'm not blubbering, George. So, you see, Smollett, everything is perfect. They never look in our way. Do you see how safe it is? I guess it is. Oh, good heavens, man. You're dripping wet. Why didn't you slip your raincoat on? Tea ready, my dear? In just a minute, dear. I'll bring for Bridget. Exactly what you need, Smollett. Cup of tea. Best thing in the world to ward off a cold. Sit down, won't you? Oh, don't mind getting the chair wet. Cigarette? Help yourself. I stick to my pipe, you know. Funny how... Everything's hot, ma'am. Oh, Bridget, yes. Put the tray in front of me here, on the table. Yes, ma'am. That's it. I say, Captain, you've got to catch a lift. I just knocked it. Oh, how dreadful. Dear Bridget. Yes, ma'am? Sit the Captain, this cup. No, no, thank you. I rather think I've been running along now if you don't mind. Oh, Captain Smollett. Without any tea. If you don't mind, Mrs. Prince Eve, if I could just have my raincoat. Oh, I'll get it for you, Captain. Oh, this is very distressing, Smollett. Very. Oh, I'll be all right presently. I'm sure. Here we are now. Let me help you. Thank you. Thank you, young man. There. Better go out the front way, Smollett. Walk is dry. Oh, let me hold the door for you, Captain. Don't worry, old fellow. Don't worry at all. No, no, no. Nothing serious, I imagine. A little rest and he'll be as right as rain. By the way, Millicent, you're not looking any too well. No, not well at all. I'm sure it was that croaky coat. Being outdoors in weather like this is simply foolhardy. The mate is right, Millie. You saw what happened to Captain Smollett. Come along, dear. I shall give you a hot foot bath and put you to bed and a couple of days in bed and you'll be fine. Get plenty of rest, Millicent, and don't worry about a thing. That's the best cure. Well, I guess I'll have a little rest, too, Governor. It's a fine afternoon for a nap. Indeed it is, son. Well, enjoy yourself. I'll see you later. I'll see you all later. Oh, would you get me the police station, please? Police headquarters, Sergeant Yancey speaking. Oh, hello, Sergeant. This is Prince of Abbott's Road. I believe you know me. Oh, indeed I do, Mr. Prince. Sergeant, a horrible thing has just happened. Quite extraordinary murder, in fact. Murder? I'm afraid it looks rather bad for a close friend of ours, unfortunately. We saw him do it. I think you'd better send someone over right away. Well, our man should be there right about now, Mr. Princey. I beg your pardon? This post right below your house there. Just rang in. Certainly didn't understand. No, no, no, I won't, Sergeant. Thank you. I'm right here. Stop shouting. We have some visitors, Governor. Oh, yes. Yes, yes, I can see that. Well, Constable, good afternoon. Good afternoon, Mr. Princey. And Smollett. I see what a remarkable fellow you are coming back like this. Here to reenact the crime? Only the one against me, Princey. The one against the curate. I'll leave to you, people. Extraordinary sense of humor. Mr. Princey, I just had a look at what's in your well. Not to criticize that, not pretty at all. Yes, Captain Smollett was thorough, if nothing else. You saw him when he did it, sir, out in the back. Oh, quite. We were just returning from a walk. Smollett evidently had been laying for the curate, hiding out in those bushes by the road, I imagine. He was never inside this house. Never. And you say, Captain. I say that while I was inside this house, a guest of the family, I was coerced into dragging the curate's body outside and dumping it in the well. Well, there we are. Not entirely, Constable. I'll just remove my raincoat. There. And demonstrate how damp I got my clothes when I went outside without it. No. That's interesting, isn't it? Quite. He undoubtedly removed his coat at some point between here and your post. I might as well tell you that his weapon, a red crookie mallet, is out by the side of the house. I shouldn't be at all surprised, but that you'd find his fingerprints all over it. All over the end of the mallet, Constable. The end that mashed withers his head. Not the end I'd have had the grasp in order to do the mashing. Governor. That's a decent try, Smollett. But it won't work. There must be other evidences, Constable. You'll undoubtedly find them when you examine the body. He means my hair under withers his nails. Well, sir, if you look carefully, I believe you'll find a few of my precious hairs under his son's nails, too. Here, what are you trying at? Constable, this is an utter waste of time. So far as a violent struggle between Smollett and withers is concerned, Smollett's face speaks for itself. Quite eloquently, I believe. But no more eloquently than your son's knuckles. As you see, Constable, a fresh abrasion. He did that on my teeth. Or did he? What? I say, or did he? He might have done that on withers his teeth. Oh, I see. I see what you mean. But I didn't. Governor, he said I... Keep still, you nitwit. Let me think. Let me think. As a matter of fact, George, the more I think of it, the more I'm convinced it was your voice, I heard. Quite a vigorous quarrel. Something about the cure, reducing your sister. Oh, don't be ridiculous, Smollett. Very well, Princey. If your son didn't do it, who did? That's what I'd like to know. How about it, Mr. Princey? Well, that. That is a sticker, all right. George, my boy, it looks like you're elected. Elected? What do you mean? I didn't do it. Keep your mouth shut, will you? I won't. I'm not going to take the blame for her. Millie did it. She did it with that mallet I saw. You could prove that? Prove it? I... I... Yes. Her fingerprints on the mallet. The handle. Why, George, don't you remember when you made me touch the mallet? When you picked it up with your handkerchief? No, I... George, I'm sure you wiped that handle clean. Oh, well, I could hardly expect you to remember that. If you can't even remember killing the curie. Governor, I... I told you to keep still. But, Governor, you're not going to turn me over. As long as I can remember, George, you've been a trial and a tribulation to me. Governor, I... You shouldn't have done it, son. You really shouldn't know, George. That was definitely wrong. I see, Prince, I think I'll have that cup of tea after all. Nothing like it in weather like this. Wet Saturday from the short story by John Collier. You have just heard the second in Columbia's new series, a series designed to bring you the best in thrill entertainment. Outstanding dramas from the field of fiction and radio, stage and screen, dramas of pure... This Columbia feature is produced and directed by Charles Vanda, with script by Harold Bedford and score by Bernard Herman. Be with us again next week at this same time when we present Suspense. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.