 Now, Roma Wines, present. Suspense. Tonight, the Night Man, starring Virginia Bruce and Richard Walk. Suspense, 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 glass full 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 bring you as stars Miss Virginia Bruce and Mr. Richard Walk. They appear in The Night Man, a new study in terror by Lucille Fletcher. It is a story of dark midnight's and of a woman to whom the familiar face and voice of murder return for vengeance. But before we raise the curtain on our suspense play, here is a message from Roma Wines. In many foreign countries where discerning tastes have found Roma Wines they are an inexpensive luxury imported and treasured. 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And now with the performances of Virginia Bruce as Stella Rhodes and of Richard Wolff as the Nightman we again hope to keep you in suspense. Warden Graves. Yes, Miss Rhodes. Sit down, won't you? Thank you. I hate to disturb you like this but I've traveled clear across the country. They wouldn't give me the information over the phone. I know. But this visit is all about Warden. To some extent, yes. You think one of our prisoners, Tom Nixon, has escaped? He has escaped. I'm as sure of it as I'm sure of sitting here now. I saw him at large in New York City two days ago. You knew Tom Nixon well, Miss Rhodes? Knew him. He was my mother's murderer. My mother was Mrs. George Rhodes of Huntington, Long Island. She ran a boarding house there. He killed her on September 18, 1933. We have all the records of the crime, Miss Rhodes. Tom was mother's chief boarder for ten years. I know him. Why, I sat opposite him at dinner table from the time I was a girl of 15. I knew him as well as I knew mother. I'd know him anyway. I see. And now he's at large. He's free. He's escaped this place. Maybe you're not aware of it. Maybe even his fellow prisoners aren't aware of it. But he's wormed his way out. And he's after me. He's after me. Oh, now, my dear young lady. Warden Graves. Ten years ago, mother was found murdered. I knew it couldn't have been anyone but Tom. I testified against him. I was practically the only witness of the trial. And when they sentenced him here for life, he swore to kill me. He swore in the open court to get even with me. For ten years I've lived in deadly fear. I've watched the newspapers for prison breaks. I've moved from house to house. Made few friends. He's hung over me like a shadow. Even though I told myself he was locked up here. Locked up here forever. And now it's come. And where exactly did you see the prisoner, Miss Rhodes? That's just the point. That's why I know he's after me. I saw him in my own apartment house. Wow. He has a job there, running the elevator at night. That's what makes it so horrible. I've never married Warden Graves. I live all alone in a small three-room penthouse on the 18th floor of an office building. The other night, about a week ago, I came home alone from the movies after midnight. The big marble lobby of my building was deserted, except in a far corner near the elevator with his back toward me, there was a man down on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. Good evening. Good evening. Where is everybody? Isn't the elevator working tonight? You want to go up in the elevator, Mum? Certainly. I'll be right with you. Okay, Mum. What floor? I was in the elevator, and we had started to ascend, and I really saw him. It was Tom. His hair had turned white, and there was a horrible stoop to his shoulders. But everything about him, the crook of his head, his high, thin, bony nose, the hollow cheekbones were all the same. And then he turned and stared at me. I could see those deadly pale, cold eyes, those heavy eyebrows, still black, that familiar, quiet, sarcastic mouth. What floor, Mum? Oh, my floor. Yes, the penthouse, please. Penthouse? Where's that? On the roof? Yes, on the roof, please. 18th floor. Okay. Warden Graves. It was like being in a cage with a wild beast. He kept watching me, peering at me furtively as the elevator moved, agonizing slowness up and up past the floors. I shrunk back, averting my face. The light in the car was dim. My only hope was that he did not recognize me. Here's your floor, Miss. Thank you. Good night. Good night. Good night. You can go back down. I don't need anything, thank you. What's the matter? Forgotten your door key? No. No, it's just, it's right in my bag. I'll find it in a minute. You want me to let you in? Let me in. No. No, good Lord. I got past keys to all the doors. It's no trouble. No, thanks, but I... No, no. No, I have it right here. Good night. And that was the first time you saw him? Yes. I wanted to die. I didn't know where to turn. And that was all he did or said? Yes, but it wasn't so much what he said. It was the awful resemblance. The feeling that he was only playing with me, torturing me like a cat with a mouse. Warden Graves, I didn't even have a phone. I've always been afraid to be listed in the phone book. And the only way up to that penthouse was by that one elevator. I was trapped up there at his mercy whenever he wanted to come. What did you do? I spent the night crouched against the wall with a flat iron in my hand, waiting for that key to click in my lock. And the next morning? The next day I began to wonder if it all wasn't just a dream. Good morning, Gallica. Lovely weather we've been having, lovely dry and brisk, but not too brisk, not over-court weather yet. No, not over-court weather yet. I was only saying to Foley this morning. Gallica? Yes, Miss Rose, yes. Who's that new night man running the elevator? The one who came on last night. Oh, Foley? You mean Foley, Miss Rose? Why, that's Charlie Foley, nice old chap. Very friendly and obliged and too treated me to coffee this morning before I came on. Charlie Foley. Yep, that's his name. They're very partial to the Irish here in this building. Gallica, Foley. But he's a nice trustworthy and chap, Miss Rose. Honest too. Good morning, Miss Rose. Good morning. Forget something, Miss Rose? No, no. Just about this, Mr. Foley, it's just that he's rather odd-looking. I was wondering where he came from and if he's perfectly all right. All right. Let me tell you something. He was personally recommended by Ellsworth, Hitchcock, Pearson and Scott, the owners of the place. And that's the first time that's ever happened in my experience. Don't you worry about him, Miss Rose. He's a good man, member of our union and married with two children. Believe me, we're the only recommended man. Well, it all sounds like a fool-proof alibi, Miss Rose. And so you went back? I didn't want to, even then. I spent the day hunting for another apartment. But you know wartime New York warden graves. There wasn't another apartment to be had. I let myself be convinced until that night when I saw him again. Then Miss Rhodes? He called me Miss Rhodes. And now there was a cruel, sarcastic smile about his lips. The kind of smile I'd seen him give to Mama. You think he recognized you then? Recognize me? Warden Graves, I haven't changed. Perhaps I've grown a little thinner. Don't you see he'd come there only to trap me. He'd taken that particular job, plotted, schemed. Here's your floor, Miss Rhodes. It was only a question of when, when he was going to do it. When the axe was going to fall. He kept grinning at me as I stepped out of the elevator. Good night, Miss Rhodes. Good, good night. Excuse me, Miss Rhodes, there wasn't any answer to my ring. What do you want? What are you doing here? It's your laundry. They told me to put it inside the door in case you weren't home. My laundry? But you knew I was home. You just brought me up. That's right. Excuse me, I guess I must have been thinking of something else. Yes. I'm sorry, Miss Rhodes. Very sorry. That's all right. Good night. It was a crazy mistake. There I was thinking you could get up here some other way. But there isn't any other way, is there? No. Even the service elevator doesn't get up this far, does it? It's just like you're all alone here. Alone on the roof. What was that, Mama? No buzzer. I better answer it. And then what happened? Nothing. He came back again that night? No. I haven't seen him since. I barricaded myself in that night. Once it occurred to me that I might escape by running down 18 flights of fire stairs. But the thought of meeting him back in the groovy darkness kept me back. And I didn't know where the fire stairs ended, perhaps in the cellar where I would be utterly defenseless. It's too bad you don't have a telephone. Oh, it's horrible. The next morning I got down to the public phone and put through the call to here, but it wasn't any use. That was the day I was out of town. Yes, but Warden and I still don't see why they couldn't have told me. After all, I was giving them information. It's one of our strictest regulations at Osama Potomy State Penitentiary never to discuss any of our prisoners over the telephone. That's what they said. So you came all the way out here in person? Yes. And now you wish me to send someone to apprehend this man? I want you to bring him back. That's all. Back where he belongs. Miss Rhodes, Tom Nixon doesn't need to be brought back. He's here. Oh, no, Warden Graves. Please, I've seen him with my own eyes. Talk to him face to face. Maybe there's someone here calling himself Tom Nixon. But he's escaped. He's free. I know it. Will you just step this way with me, Miss Rhodes? No, no, I don't want to see him. I don't want to see his cellar or talk to anybody or... Tom Nixon's dead, Miss Rhodes. He's buried in the prison yard. I'd like you to see his grave. And this is the photograph taken of him just a week before he died. You see, he wasted away quite a bit. He was in the infirmary all last year. He became very religious too toward the end. Spent a good deal of his time praying. Praying? Mm-hmm. All the fights seemed to go out of him as soon as he knew he was seriously ill. But, uh, you'd say this was his picture, wouldn't you, Miss Rhodes? Yes. It's Tom, all right. And these little personal belongings, ordinarily, we turn these over to the family. But in Tom's case, there wasn't, uh, much family. You'd recognize these as his? Yes. I don't know the mob. And that gold watch, he used to wear it every Sunday at the mob. He rode a couple of noses before he died to a fellow prisoner and to the prison chaplain. You remember this handwriting? Yes. This seems to be it. Well, Miss Rhodes, now, how do you feel a little better about your elevator operator? You must think me a fool. No, not at all. Not at all. But the likeness was so extraordinary. It was almost like seeing a ghost. A ghost? Come, come, Miss Rhodes. Snap out of it. Now that you've gotten all this off your chest, isn't it perfectly obvious that that poor night man's done nothing or said nothing to you at all out of the ordinary? It's only that, uh, well, you seem to be the victim of some kind of, uh, guilt complex. Guilt complex? I'm not guilty of anything. Oh, what I mean is Tom has been on your mind now for ten years. You testified against him. He threatened you. Gradually, you see him everywhere. No, no. Only this once. Only these last few nights. All right. But now you know the truth. That should clear your fears forever. Tom's dead and buried. Now go back and take a look at that night man again. Now that you know Tom's dead, I'll lay odds the whole resemblance will vanish. Well, I hope so. My advice to you, Miss Rhodes, would be to go straight home. Use that elevator as much as possible. Get acquainted with this foley fellow for your own sake. Try to get the better of these hallucinations. Otherwise, you'll start seeing poor Tom everywhere you turn. I'll try, Warden Graves. Well, thank you. You've been very kind. Not at all. Good evening, Charles. Good evening, ma'am. I have some bags here, Charles. Will you help me with them, please? Okay. That all, ma'am? Yes, thank you. Uh, this is for you, Charles. No thanks, ma'am. I, uh, never take tips. It's all right. I'd like you to have it. I'm sure the superintendent wouldn't mind. The superintendent hasn't anything to do with it. Well, aren't we going to start? Yeah. In a minute. Been out of town? Why, why, yes. I have. You've gone quite a while. I didn't see you for three or four nights. I was in the country visiting a friend. It's beautiful weather out there. The leaves are beautiful. I wouldn't know. You live in the city, Charles? Of course. Oh, isn't it hard to bring up children in the city? Children? Yes, but didn't I understand Gallagher to say you had two children? Me? What chance I have to have any children? Oh, I'm sorry. I'm a bachelor. By the way, my name is not Charles. Well, I guess this must be my floor. No, it's not. Then why are we stopping? The elevator's stuck. Power's been cut off. Cut off? Mm-hmm. How could that happen? It's never happened before, as long as I've lived here. Well, sooner or later, I guess it had to happen. Isn't there some way we can get it back on? Some buzzer for the cellar or something? If the power's off, the buzzer isn't working. So wonder the lights are still on. The lights? Yeah. They'll go out in a few minutes, though. Then it'll be black in here. Black as a grave. Let's get out of here. Open the door. Can't. She won't budge. You haven't even tried. I don't have to try. We're stuck between floors. The doors flush with the solid wall. Solid wall? Yeah. They're kind of... ...bricked up...in a cell. But there must be some way out of here. Isn't there a little door in the roof? Something you can pry open? Something you can climb up out of into the shaft? I don't see any. But there must be. Climb up and feel around before the light gives out. There's nothing to get hold of. There's steel and mirrors, and I'm not tall enough. Stand on my bags. That's a good idea. Never hold me. Oh, he's all right. Just hurry. Here. The gladstone's strongest. No. Never make it. Oh, but stand on your tiptoe stretch. No. Let me try. No, I can't. I didn't think so. What are we going to do? What are we going to do? Wait. Wait? Wait until somebody comes along downstairs and finds the elevator stuck. And then rings up the superintendent. But that might be ours. Sure. Everybody's left the building. I know because they've all signed out. This air shaft's thick. Isolated. Nobody's down in the basement. And there won't be any passengers ringing for an elevator this time of night. You seem awfully sure about all that. Why not? Cigarette? No, thanks. Do you think it's safe to smoke in here? Sure. And suppose it isn't. What's the difference? Hey, have one. It'll soothe your nerves. No, thanks. The air's so close. Jumpy, ain't you? No. I suppose really there's nothing to be afraid of. Sooner or later, they'll come. Oh, sure. Eventually. It's just that this waiting and all these mirrors and being stuck. You're not Jumpy on account of me? You? No. No, of course not. But you were kind of Jumpy with me the other night, weren't you? The other night? When I came into your apartment unexpectedly. There. That was a mistake. Mistake? Yes, I just thought you were someone else. A friend of mine. Someone I've always been afraid of. But now I've learned it couldn't be you because this friend's dead. Dead and buried. Dead and buried? Yes. What was his name? Maybe I know him. Oh! What was that? Only the lights. I knew they'd give out sooner or later. So you are Jumpy with me? No, no. I thought you said this guy was dead and buried. Yes, he is. I saw his grave. Then why are you screaming like that? I'm not screaming. It's so dark in here. It's so close and creepy. What did you do to this friend that makes you so Jumpy? Do? Do to him? Nothing. I didn't do a thing. No. It was he. He threatened me. He was a murderer. He killed my mother in cold blood ten years ago. He was our border for ten years. And one afternoon... Don't move! Don't move! I'm not moving. Go on. One afternoon I came home and there was mother lying on the floor with her throat. Now where are you? I can't... Go on. No, no. I can't stand it. I can't stand it. Stop! It's you, Tom, isn't it? I thought you said your friend was dead and buried. Stop playing with me. Stop torturing me. Tell me the truth. You escaped, didn't you? You didn't die and it was someone else. Someone else's grave. Just as I thought. You escaped and found me here. Answer me, Tom. Where are you? I can't see you. I can't... I didn't mean it. I didn't. I didn't mean to send you there. It was only because I loved you, Tom. Loved you so blindly, passionately for years. And hated mama. And hated you for loving her. It was only to get revenge on you both that I killed her. And framed you. Mama was so cruel to me, Tom. She treated me like a slave. And all the time flaunting you in my face. If you'd spoken one kind word to me, Tom and the girl. One word to let me know you loved me. You're going to kill me, aren't you, Tom? Here's the lobby, Mama. You can get out here or I'll take you back up to the penthouse as soon as we've picked up the other passenger. The lobby? You brought me down to the lobby? Yes, ma'am. Then you're not, Tom? No, ma'am. You're not going to... you're not going to kill me? I'm free? Yes, ma'am. Then it was all just a crazy illusion. A nightmare because the power went off and you look so much like Tom Nixon. Oh, forgive me. Please forgive me for being so sad. It's okay. And you'll forget about those silly things I said, won't you? I didn't mean the myth. It was just because I was beside myself. What silly things, ma'am? Those silly things about my mother and Tom. Now, this is for you. No, no, I insist this time. I insist. I'm sorry, ma'am. But I'm afraid I never accept tips. Oh, but you must... Particularly from people who... framed my twin brother. Good evening, Warden Graves. Good evening, Lieutenant Nixon. Well done. And so closes the Nightman, starring Virginia Bruce and Richard Wall. The night study in... Suspense. Suspense is produced and directed by... William Spear. Do every woman listening tonight? I want to say a special word about making every dinner or supper you serve taste better. I want to urge you to start serving... Roma wine with your meals. It's simple. The cost is very, very little. And it works magic in making food more enjoyable. You can serve Roma wine with any meal or any time in any kind of glass you wish. Serve it chilled. Try different kinds of Roma wine until you find those you enjoy most of all. Try hearty, red Roma-California burgundy, or the delicately delicious Roma-California saterne. The cost is only pennies a glass, but you'll find even a pickup supper tastes like a banquet. Get Roma wines today. If your dealer is temporarily out of them, please try again soon. Just ask for R-O-M-A. Roma wines. America's largest selling wines. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Richard Woff appeared through the courtesy of... Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, producers of Mrs. Parkington. Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Mr. Van Johnson and Mr. Keenan Wynn as stars of... Suspense! Presented by Roma Wines. R-O-M-A. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Remember this. The war is not over. 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