 Escape, tonight to Paris, of 500 years ago. The Columbia Broadcasting System and its affiliated stations presents Escape, a new series of programs of which this the fifth is The Sire de Maltwares Door by Robert Louis Stevenson, produced and directed by William M. Robeson. The pen of Robert Louis Stevenson has been an avenue of escape for three generations. Our grandparents thrilled to the macabre metamorphosis of Dr. Jekyll, just as we will never forget the nursery menace called Long John Silver. Tonight we escape with Robert Louis Stevenson down another avenue, which leads to Paris in 1429, and the amazing adventure of The Sire de Maltwares Door. Dark of the Moon, 1429, Paris. The House of Burgundy holds the throne of France, and English men-at-arms patrol the narrow streets. Troublous times for any man to be lost on foot at night. You there, over here, here by the wall. What's this? Now the shadows themselves are speaking. I've no shadow. A real-life human being. I've managed to get myself lost in these confounded alleys. Can you tell me where I am? Well, no. Fine young Cavalier, no less. And he's lost. I'm trying to find the both son of Ian. Will this street lead me there? Well, at one street is as good as another, and none of them will ever lead a man anywhere. Oh, come now, you must know something about this part of Paris. Think, man, a patrol may pass in any moment. Hmm? Hmm. You are wanted then. I have a safe conduct passed from the captain of the garrison. Safe conduct, he says. And if I'm a good little dude, you're here in the dark of the night. Well, you're certainly not helping my chances, any. No, the only safe conduct you have is that sword is swinging at your side. Wait, wait, quiet. They're coming this way. I am inclined to think you're right. I've got a run for it. Tell them nothing. Well, I should tell what to them. Wait, hold. Someone's there. Speak up, who are you? Speak up, who is it? And you are a blundering pack of two-day grenadiers that walk like a herd of cattle, such as me? Speak up. That served with the mad Prince Charlie himself? May he rest in peace. An old campaigner, eh? Where are you from, soldier? Front down blue, from a smarter outfit in Bivouac than the likes of you in court. A bit in the sculpture, man. Seen anybody about all the time? Not, but shadows and tankards of air. Fine French Cavalier, who departed hence without a bio-lead just now. Where'd he go? Who knows, perhaps he went one way, or maybe the other. I think it was the other there. All right, men. French Cavalier, eh? We'll have him like a thal in a spit. Spread out, cover the street. Keep an eye out. Don't let a slip away between you. Forward now. Search every corner. Oh, the fool, the drunken fool. I'm for it now, all right. Ha! There's Cross Street. There's a bare chance they'll pass it by. If I can only get through here. Oh! No! Oh, no! It's a dead end, unless this leads... No, it's only the door to a house. Caught like a rat in a trap. If it's so written, then so be it. With a bit of luck, there'll be two or three go with me, huh? The door. It's unlocked. I can push it open. Black as a mouth of hell inside. Well, what have I got to lose? That was close. Too close. Now to get out of here and no one in the house will ever be the wiser. Huh? What's this? The door's locked. Oh, it's a trap. But why? Why would such a thing be done? I came in here by chance, one chance against a million. Wait. It's a light. Somewhere inside the house. Well, am I all right? I should be dead at this moment. I've been expecting you all evening. I fear you must be mistaken, so my visit is quite unexpected for both of us. That's good. That's very good. For the both of us, you say. Well, no matter. You're here, that's the main point. Take a seat, my boy. Put yourself in ease. We'll arrange our little affairs presently. There seems to be some misunderstanding. You see, your door was standing... Oh, the door. That was a little piece of ingenuity, don't you agree? So you must know that I had no intention of intruding without an invitation. Without an invitation, is it? Well, we old people are used to such relaxance. When it touches our honor, we cast about until we find some way overcoming it. And so, my boy, invitation or not, you are, believe me, most welcome. I hope you'll pardon my saying it, but I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. Oh, so that's it. Dead to rights, but still pretending, eh? Ah, you're a clever rogue, all right. Sir! My name is Denis de Beaulieu. I am not a guest in your house by my own choice, and I am not accustomed to being... Stop! There is the house of Maltois, accustomed to certain things, of which you well know. Maltois? I should have expected better treatment at the hands of one of the most honored families of France. Honored indeed, until you, Monsieur de Beaulieu, took it upon yourself to dishonor us. I, de Maltois, have attempted to explain that I took a stand before your door to fight off a patrol which I'd encountered in the street. I assure you, I had no slight intention of forcing myself... Since it seems impossible for you to converse with any degree of reason, may I bid you good night. Sir, if you have your right wits, then you're insulting me grossly. And if not, I have no desire to spend further time with the lunacy. Oh, young fool. Thinking to get away so easily... No power on earth can make me stay here any longer, even if I'm forced to hack that door of yours to pieces. I am me. And now, will you please sit down, my dear nephew? Nephew, you lie in your teeth! I said sit down! You think for a minute that I made a little contrivance for the door and stopped short with that? If you want to be bound hand and foot until your bones crack inside of you, then get up! Try to get away. But if you'd rather stay a free young buck and gravely conversing with an old gentleman, sit where you are in peace. You mean, then... I'm a prisoner here. I stated the facts, or your own conclusion. Ah, Pierre Francois, come in, come in. Thank you, messiah. Tell me, how is she? A little better frame of mind, I hope. She is more resigned, at least, messiah. Well, now, isn't she hard to please? A lightly stripping such as this, well-born and her own choice. What more would the jade wall have, hm? If you'll pardon the situation is not usual for a young damsel. It is somewhat trying to her blushes. Trying, is it? Ha! She should have thought of that before the dance began. All the turns, and now she'll do the pain. At the risk of being presumptuous, may I ask who she is? Ha! You hear that, Pierre Francois? Monsieur de Beaulieu wishes to know who she is. I heard me, sir. I am pleased that you find my most casual remark so amusing. So, you'd like to know who she is? Very well. After all, you really should know, young fellow. It's only fitting for you to be introduced properly. Come along, come along. I'll take you into she all right. Why, that's the reason I planned the whole thing. You stubborn young scoundrel-y blaggard! Come on, my boy, right through this door. After you, sir, if you don't mind. Oh, now, it's not that kind of a trap. Here we are. How are you, my dear? Please, uncle, please, there's some pity on me. Pity? Ah, but I do a greater more than you've shown for the name of Malsoir. Ah, come now, come now, up off your knees and look at the friend I brought you. It's good to be devout, but it is also necessary to be polite. I have no understanding how you can be so vicious. Oh, that's very unkind. And now, Monsieur de Beaulieu, since we've decided to keep up this farce, allow me to present my niece, Blanc, about you. Such an inhuman thing, surely heaven itself. He's not the man. My uncle, this is not the man. I expected you to say as much, my dear. Is it so unfortunate that you couldn't remember his name? It's true. I swear by the Blessed Virgin, I do not know this man. Never laid eyes on him before. Please, sir, tell him. Tell him we've never seen each other before. At any rate, I've never had that pleasure. Sire, I've not met your lovely niece before this moment. Oh, now isn't that too bad? But it's never too late to begin. Quite often these impromptu marriages turn out very well in the end. Marriage? Sire de Meltois, would you please be kind enough to explain what you mean? Aha, now, surely you've heard of the custom of marriage? It's quite widely practiced. At least, sir, I've never heard before of such a many-act as I perceive you to be. And I've no intention of marrying anyone. Then may I ask what were your intentions for life? Oh, well, no matter now. Der François is looking forward to performing the nuptial rites. Oh, he's quite properly ordained, you know. So, shall we say, in two hours? Meanwhile, I suggest you become better acquainted. Wait! Uncle, you can't be an earnest. I swear to you, I'll kill myself before I'll be forced on this young man. Forced? How come now, my dear Blanche? Is it possible that you think I'm lying? That you still believe this is the man? Frankly, I do. But then you're wrong. I refuse not to leave and to consider- Enough, my dear. You took it upon yourself to dishonor the name of our family. You forfeit it all right whatsoever to question my designs. I consider it a duty to see that you're married with as little delay as possible. Out of the goodness of my heart, I've attempted to find the man of your choice. And I believe I've done so. But if not, then I cannot one jackstraw. Is that perfectly clear? It's clear, sir, that you're a madman. Perhaps, my dear nephew. I'm not your nephew, nor will I be. It's sooner die a thousand times. Such a fury against the inevitable. But at any rate, you'll have two hours to compose your differences. Père Francois, bring the clock. Very well, messiah. Thank you. Place it there. This, monsieur de Beaulieu, is another of my little contrivances and one that is hardly less ingenious than my daughter. Messiah, your accomplishments are of no interest to me whatsoever. Oh, I think you'll find this one most interesting. You will notice that the upper container is filled with water in exactly two hours all of the water will have dripped into the lower vessel and at that time I shall return. Remove the plug, Père Francois. Clever, isn't it? Well, genius is so rarely appreciated. And now I'm quite sure you, Souda, carry on your interview without an audience. You... You'd never met my uncle before? He didn't arrange this with you. I'd never laid eyes on him. And certainly nothing was arranged with me else I wouldn't be here. You're as much an unfortunate victim as myself. But you, at least, must be more aware of the circumstances. I can understand none of this. It's not an easy thing for a girl to tell. Whatever you may think of me now, I fear you shall think the worse when I've finished. Words are but words. But your manner encourages respect. Thank you, Monsieur. I've lived all my life with my uncle. And I've not been happy. Three months ago, a young captain of the Guard began to stand near me in the church. Oh, you must understand. I gave him no encouragement to do so. Well, quite so, I understand. He was handsome, of course. As a matter of fact, very. After a while, he began to pass me notes. He found me pleasing, wanted to meet me and seemed most interested in me for some reason. I can believe that. This morning, he passed me a note urging me to leave the outer door open tonight so that he could speak a few words with me on the stairs. Oh, this is most difficult for me to tell, Monsieur. I'm sure he meant no harm. I've no idea how my uncle came to suspect. Sometimes his shrewdness becomes almost diabolic. After church, he took that note from my hand, read it, gave it back to me. I've been kept in my room all day, knowing nothing of what he might be planning. So that's it. By pure accident, I've blundered into a trap set for someone else. Had my uncle brought the cat in himself, the thing still would have been confusing. How should I know that he may not have been trifling with me all along? But to be forced into a situation with you, a perfect stranger. Your regard for me is quite clear, mademoiselle. I regret appearing as a disappointment to you. I believe you said he was very handsome. If that were all. There's more? I mean, Monsieur, that you yourself are quite handsome. But it's so... No, it's really no use. Please understand me. I'm not urging you in any way. Urging, Monsieur? I'm accustomed to meeting young ladies upon occasion who are quite ready to accept me as something beside a convenient substitute for some handsome captain of the guard. I've no doubt of it, Monsieur. And to correct a mistake and impression you seem to have, I'm being no urging. And were you to do so, I should neither listen to nor give it any consideration whatsoever. It's well that we both understand one another. Quite so. And that being the case, mademoiselle de Maltreau, I wonder if you'll be good enough to conduct me to your uncle. With the greatest of pleasure, Monsieur. I've no doubt but what this little matter can be settled very quickly and with as much honor as possible to everybody concerned. The full two hours weren't necessary. The harmonious accord rises triumphantly. On the contrary, mademoiselle de Maltreau. Your assumption is entirely false. Oh, what a pity. Well, Pierre Francois, there's nothing to it. We'll simply have to wait a while longer. As you say, mademoiselle. I fear it may be much longer than you think. In fact, forever. That's a very long time indeed. And you, my dear niece, what are your sentiments in the matter? I will not marry this man. Do what you may, uncle. I will not marry him. Right back where we started. Can it be that our young friend is lacking in perception, Pierre Francois? It is possible, mademoiselle. I'm not at any rate lacking in a sense of honorable conduct. Dragged in here against my will, I've addressed your niece in the manner of a gentleman. I found her charming, lovely, delightful. Monsieur. But now I have the honor of declining your offer of her hand. Let that end the matter. Oh, it's not as simple as that. Take a look from my window there, and tell me what you've seen on the wall beneath it. What do you mean? See for yourself. Whatever it is can have no bearing on the matter. There's an iron ring set in the wall. Quite so, and a fasten to the ring? A rope. Right. So we have two elements. And to complete our little diagram, we need a third one. That element is, at the moment, firmly attached to your body. I'm referring, sir, to your neck. Uncle No. And may I inquire the purpose of the dogs there in the courtyard below? Are they also a part of your devilish plans? My dear young man, a body doesn't hang in ropes forever, you know. You maniac. Even murder doesn't stop you. Ooh, that's such a nasty word. Let us confine ourselves to the bald facts. At the end of your two hours, you will prepare yourself either to marry my niece or to kick out your life while you swing at the end of that rope. There's no other alternative. I think there's one. Between gentlemen at any rate, arm yourself, sir. You'll fall. You'll think for a moment that if I regarded your sword as a threat, you'd still be wearing it. Père Francois, will you open that door to the passage, please? Of course, messiah. I'll be most happy to. Gentlemen, show this rash young buck the color of your steel. Whether he likes to admit it or not, Monsieur de Beaulieu, one day a man grows too old to fight his own battles and must hire others to do it for him. Close the door, Père Francois. Then you'll not fight? Do I seem a fool? There'll be no fighting and no haughty refusal to marry my niece. You found her charming, well and good. But I'll tell you this, where she is common as the Paris road, more hideous to the gargoyle over my door, you'd not spurn the hand of a maltois and ever live to tell of it. Alive and married you'll be or dead and hanging from that window and soon after, food for the dogs. It's one or the other. So, make up your mind. Please, Monsieur de Beaulieu, why do you not sit down? Your concern is most gratifying, mademoiselle. Since I have such a short time to live, I doubt that I'll grow very tired. If the time be short, then why do we waste it in formal speeches? As you will. Listen to him. Drip, drip, drip. That devilish clock, like an artery opened and life's blood itself dripping away. We're sat here and thought and thought until my whole mind's in a great whirl. You really shouldn't trouble yourself so much. I can't bear to have you slain for my sake. Monsieur de Beaulieu, I will marry you, gladly. You must think, then, that I stand very much in fear of death. Oh, no, no. I had reason to see that you're no coward. I've asked for no pity of a thing has to be. Then that's the end of it. Oh, sir, you misunderstood me. It's the great nobility with which you face my uncle. I've removed all question about your bravery and such doubts existed. That is the most kind of you to say so. Not, of course. Anyone could raise such questions once they've seen you. Death's another incident. That's all. Oh, but life's a better one. You'll agree, then. I'm afraid you want to rate the difficulty. Generosity offers me my pride prevents accepting. In this moment of noble feeling toward me, aren't you forgetting what you already owed to someone else? Monsieur, he never really mattered. And Marcel, my very life's the forfeit here. Well, I'll pay gladly if it be of service to a lady, but to tell me it's for something that never really mattered. Please don't, don't be so cruel. Cruel, you forget? I'm the one who's going to die, not you. I've not forgotten, Monsieur. You'll enjoy tomorrow's sun like any other days. And tomorrow night, perhaps you'll see him again. And of course, I'll be forgotten. Oh, no, never. But it's all a man can expect when he's born into the world, death at last, and some piece of ironic misfortune. Oh, don't say those things. I can't bear it. Oh, if I've said anything to wound you, I'm sorry. It was for your own sake, not mine. Please, it's a bitter thing, my dear. To see you in such distress that giving my life itself for you can't help it. I'm sorry. I'll try to be braver. Is there no way at all in which I can serve you, either now or afterwards? Only by letting me think of you as a friend for the brief time that's left to us. By forgetting for the moment that I'm an awkward intruder thrown here by circumstance. That's all. And afterwards? What does it matter the closer you come to it, the clearer you see that death's no more than a... a dark and dusty corner where a man climbs into his tomb and shuts the door after him. I've only a few friends now. And once I'm dead, I've no doubt that I'll have none. You forget to blanch the moutoir. You're very sweet. Any young man in France would be glad to trade places with me and die for you. You value the small service I do you far beyond its worth. I'll not have you thinking so meanly of yourself. Look at me. Would you say that I am beautiful? I think the... I think the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I'm glad of that. Tell me, is there a man in France who can say he's been asked in marriage by a beautiful maiden asked from her own lips and refused her to her face? Oh, no. I know you're a man and have to spy such a triumph. But any woman knows more of what's precious in love. But remember you asked me out of the pity of your heart, not fuller. Must I bear my very soul like a merchant's showcase? You're very good. As good as you're beautiful. I'll not forget it. For the time that's left of me. Very well. I too have a pride of my own. You'd turn back now from your word I'd no more marry you than I would any stranger off the street. It's... It's a small love that shies at a little pride on starting to break. Yes, my uncle and his men would come here any moment. What shall we say to him? All of my life I'll wait for you. And weep the more because it was you. If I'm wrong, it's a great price I'm paying for it, when I'd not pay if I didn't care for you so dearly. Careful, not you are being kind. It was in the moment your uncle brought me into you and you raised your face to look at me. That's when I knew. Oh, strange, for it was then I felt it too. Well, you've seen already that I'm not afraid to die. Oh, you're not, I know it. Lasha, is it really true not something born of pity? I swear by all that's holy. I love you, Denny. Oh, my beloved. And I can tell you now that I love you too. Even after all you've heard. I can remember none of it. The captain's name. No matter. I love you. Oh, my darling. I love you more than my life, my soul. Lasha, my darling, I love you. I love you, Lasha. Oh, God. Well, well, well. It's most gratifying to see this little matter settled in such a congenial fashion. Good morning, my dear nephew. I have nothing to say to you, sir. You're a vicious and unprincipled old man. Oh, that's most ungracious of you. No, no. At the very worst, I'm no more than a very wise old man. One who's lived a long time and seen a great many remarkable things. An old man who's learned all about such mysteries as the love of life and love. The Sire de Maltois' Door by Robert Louis Stevenson was adapted for radio by Les Crutchfield and produced and directed by William M. Robeson with Elliot Lewis as Denny, Peggy Weber as Blanche and Ramsay Hill as the Sire de Maltois. The special musical score was conceived and conducted by Sy Fewer. Escape is presented by the Columbia Broadcasting System and its affiliated stations each week at this time. Next week, we invite you to Escape to Egypt of 3,500 years ago with Arthur Conan Doyle's fascinating tale of the Ring of Toth. And so goodnight until next week at this time, when again it will be time to escape. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. The Columbia Broadcasting System