 The Mysterious Traveller. This is the Mysterious Traveller, inviting you to join me on another journey into the realm of the strange and terrifying. I hope you will enjoy the trip, that it will thrill you a little and chill you a little. So settle back and get a good grip on your nerves. If you can. Where are we going? Are we going to call on Edward Farrington and his three sisters? A little family of four who love each other devotedly, and whose story I call The Symphony of Death. Edward Farrington and his sisters live by themselves in a large gloomy old house on the outskirts of Boston. It is evening and Edward is on his way home when his attention is attracted by a small establishment which is advertising a close-out sale. An economical and foresighted man, Edward stops his car and enters the dimly lighted shop. Good evening, sir. May I serve you? I'm not sure. I saw your sign and it occurred to me that by purchasing now something I'm sure to need sooner or later I might save a substantial sum. You are very foresighted, sir. Now here is a design I can recommend unreservedly. A simple white column, yet cut from the finest Carara marble. I see. The angel on top is of a single piece with a shaft. It can never be dislodged or separated. In every inch, in every line, it expresses dignified grief. Yes, I agree with you, but I'm afraid it's too expensive. What are these stones here in the corner? These. They are our simplest designs, polished granite cubes with just enough room for the name and the date. They are excellent memorials, but I am sure in the long run you will get greater satisfaction from something more appealing to the eye. No, no, I think these will do excellently. Yes, they're just what I had in mind. I'm particularly pleased by the fact that they're all alike. I see. You wish all four of them, then? No, not four, just three. Three will quite prepare me for all eventualities. Will you be able to store them for me until they're needed? Yes, we can store them at our main warehouse, if you wish. Excellent. I suppose I might as well give you the inscriptions to be carved on them while I'm here. You can leave room for the dates to be added. Of course, sir. Then if you'll just take this down. In loving memory of Florence, sister of Edward Farrington. Yes, sir. In loving memory of Martha, sister of Edward Farrington. In loving memory of Emily, sister of Edward Farrington. Yes, Emily. You're all wet. Yes, it's beginning to rain. Let me help you with your coat, Edward. I'll hang it up for you. Now, Emily, please don't fuss over me this way. It makes me nervous to be poor, that. But I just want to help you with your coat. I can hang it up by myself. Emily, is that Edward? Oh, Edward, you're late. We were worried about you. I'm here, and I'm perfectly all right, Florence, as you can see. Now, is dinner ready? Oh, yes, Edward. Martha has everything ready. Martha, Edward told us. Oh, oh, it's you, Edward. We were worried about you. Martha, I've told you not to worry if I'm a few minutes late. Well, I suppose we just can't help it, Edward. Now, we'll eat. And perhaps after dinner, you will play the piano for us. Oh, will you, Edward? Please, say yes. Please, Edward. Well, we'll see. I really should work on my symphony tonight, but perhaps I can play for a few minutes after dinner. And so, after dinner, Edward played for his sisters on the great piano in the library. Emily and Florence crowded close to him as he played, and Martha, busy with her knitting, sat and watched them with fond gaze. That would lovely, Edward. Would you like to play some more? Yes, something we can sing. Well, all right, just one more, and that's all. It's just thunder. You mustn't jump like that. It can't hurt you. I know, but I can't help it. I like thunderstorms. I like to watch the lightning. I think that's enough for tonight. Now off to bed, both of you. All right. Good night, Edward. Good night, Edward. Good night, Emily, Florence. Well, I suppose I might as well go to bed myself. No, Martha, don't go yet. I want to talk to you. To me? Yes. What about Edward? How old are you? How old? I'm 35. No, why be silly about it? I'm 37. You want to get married? You still could, and you owe it to yourself. I shall never marry Edward. I promised father that I'd look after things and keep the four of us together as long as we live. And I will. As long as we live. But perhaps we'd be better off if we weren't together. You can't mean that. But I do. I need solitude in which to finish my book and my symphony. It's very distracting, you know, to have the three of you constantly hovering about me. You're just feeling blue tonight. I wouldn't be happy without us any more than we would be without you. No, we'll all be together, the four of us, as long as we all live. Now, now I'm going to bed. Good night, Edward dear. Good night, Martha. We'll all be together, the four of us, as long as we live. As long as we all live. In the morning, Edward was still raiding. After breakfast, Edward shut himself in the library to continue work on his symphony. And Edward played well, Emily. Edward, you're a wonderful player. Let's listen a minute before we go upstairs. Do you think he'd really mind if we went in? If we just sat very quiet. I don't think so. We'll be very quiet. It's you two. We're sorry, Edward. We didn't mean to disturb you. We'll go right away. No, you don't have to go. You mean we can stay, Edward? For a minute. I'm going to stop for a smoke. I'll bring you the cigarette. Oh, the cigar box is empty. Empty? Why, I was positive. I had plenty of cigarettes. That's why I didn't buy any yesterday. You did have a lot yesterday. I saw them. Well, they're gone now. Then I suppose I'll have to drive down the hill to the drugstore and get some more. And that will mean I'll get nothing done this morning, nothing whatever. I wish I had someone I could send for them. Edward, let me go for you. In this rain, why, you'd get soaking wet Florence. Well, I could take the car. Take the car and weather like this. But I'm a good driver, Edward. You once said so yourself. And I have a driver's license. You know I have you help me get it. Yes, that's true. Be very careful, Edward. Well, you must promise to drive very slowly down the hill to town. Oh, I will, Edward. All right then, Florence. Here's the key to the car, the old car car. Now be very careful. Oh, I will. I promise I will. May I stay and listen until Florence comes back? Well, I suppose so, seeing you're here already. You don't like us to be around, do you? Sometimes I think you don't like us at all anymore. Oh, that's nonsense. It's just that I'm trying to get a great piece of music written, and you keep disturbing me. Oh, there goes Florence in the car now. She's going fast. Florence likes to go fast, and then step on the brakes. She promised to be careful. I know, but she forgets. Well, I'm sure she'll be all right. Now I must get to work. Well, I'm perfectly comfortable, Martha. I don't need a jacket. You mustn't take chances. Here, put it on. Oh, all right. Emily, where's Florence? Is she up there? Oh, no. She's gone to get Edward some cigarettes. Gone out? In this rain? Edward, let her take the car. Edward, you didn't. Martha, please don't get excited. She can drive, and she promised to be careful. But you promised never to let her drive alone. You know how she drives, and there's someone with her. Really, she's a better driver than you think. There's nothing to be alarmed about. She'll be back any minute, and then... I'll answer it. No, it's probably for me. I'll answer it. Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Farrington. The police. Edward, what is it? Hush, Martha. What about my sister? She did what? All right. Yes. Yes, of course. I'll be right down. Edward, what is it? What's happened to Florence? Martha, we must all be very calm. Florence has had a terrible accident. Oh, no! The brakes of the car apparently gave way at the bottom of the hill. Florence ran off the curve and crashed into the rocks there. She was killed instantly. The official investigation into poor Florence's death established only the fact that the brakes had failed. But the brakes had only been checked the day before, as Edward proved to the police. Accordingly, they ascribe death to an unfortunate mechanical failure and close the case. Edward, however, could not dismiss it from his mind so easily. Edward, you can't go on like this day after day, brooding about poor Florence's death. Oh, my dear, I blame myself for if I hadn't ever taken the car. I know, Edward. Why don't you try to work on your symphony? It'll help take your mind off Florence. No, no, I can't possibly do any work on that yet for a while. No, but I have another notion. I think I'd like to write our family history. Oh, family history? Yes, and it seems to me that once in Mother's old trunk in the attic, I saw a lot of letters that were written to her by relatives. Are they still there? Why, yes, they are. I'd like to look them over. They might help me get started on my history. Will you show me where they are, Martha? Why, yes, of course. We'll go up to the attic and I'll get them out for you right after lunch. Here are the letters, Edward. I wrote a lot of letters those last few years. After the doctor said she must never leave the house. Yes, I remember. How quiet and dark it is up here in the attic. We used to play hide-and-go-seek here, the four of us. Yes, until Mother died. I've often wondered about that. She fell from one of these attic windows, I remember. She was leaning out, looking at the river, and she slipped. Yes, it was that window there. The one looking down into the courtyard. I'd like to look at it. The catch is stuck. Will you help me open it, Martha? Well, all right. There. It's almost 50 feet down to the courtyard. She was killed instantly, wasn't she? Yes, but let's close it now. In a moment. Martha, did Mother really slip and fall, or did she throw herself out? What makes you ask that? I was only eight at the time, but it seems to me Mother was wondering badly in her mind there at the end. And then I recollect hearing Father say something about an asylum to Uncle Jordan. Edward, you mustn't say that ever again. It would terrify Emily. But it's true, isn't it? Yes, it's true. Poor Mother. It's strange you calling her Mother because she wasn't really your Mother. No, but I always think of her as Mother. I was only two when Father married her. Let's believe that she slipped. It would be easy to slip from this window, wouldn't it? Well, the sill isn't very low. Yes, but lean out a little farther and see how easy it would be. No, a little farther. You see how overbalanced one becomes? Yes, yes, you're right. Now, help me back, Edward. Of course. Martha, catch yourself. Martha! Poor Martha. Well, tragic death, coming so soon after Florence's, was a great shock to Emily and Edward. But Edward recovered from the tragedy somehow after a few weeks, and as though determined not to let it upset him, spent many hours a day at his beloved piano, working on his projected masterpiece. That was wonderful. You played just like you used to before Florence and Martha died. Yes, I'm getting my old touch back. You don't mind my coming in to listen, do you? Not today, but Emily, you have been disturbing me these last few weeks. Must you follow me around all the time? But Edward, you know how much I like to be near you. And now that Florence and Martha are gone, I haven't anyone else to talk to. Yes, I know that, but I can't get any work done unless I'm left in peace. I can't bother you any more, I promise. You know, I do miss Florence and Martha. Of course you do. But just the same, it's been awfully nice having you all do myself as they went. I'm afraid it's very lonely for you. Oh, no, it isn't. I like it. Yes, but I think we'll have to get a housekeeper. She'd be company for you and she'd look after things. In fact, I'm going into town to interview a housekeeper today, a Mrs. McDonald. You'd like to go with me, wouldn't you? Yes, Edward. We'll take the car and have a nice drive at the same time. Oh, that'll be fun. Now, how would you like to go out and get the car started for me? Get the car started. Yes, I have to tend to a few things before we go and the motor needs to warm up. It's not working very well. Oh, Edward, do you think I could start it? Of course you could. Just turn on the switch and step on the starter and then let it run until it's good and warm. All right, Edward, may I have the key? Yes, here you are. Now, this is the ignition key. And use the little side door to get in. I'll unlock the big doors when I come out. I can pretend I'm driving it. Will you belong? No, just sit in the car and wait until I come. All right. I am Emily. I took longer than I expected. I hope you hadn't been sitting here with a motor running all this time. Emily! Emily! With Emily's unfortunate death from carbon monoxide poisoning, Edward Farrington was left quite alone in the great old house. His neighbors saw little of him, though they could hear him at his channel for many hours each day. They knew, however, that a week after Emily's funeral, he hired a housekeeper, Mrs. McDonald, to take charge of the house for him. Now, Mrs. McDonald, this is your first day and before you start, I'd like to explain a few things to you. Of course, Mr. Farrington. As you know, I've suffered the tragic loss of all my sisters in the past few months. Oh, yes, sir. A great sorrow it must have been. But they do say tragedy has come in threes. Indeed they seem to. But I'm sure I'll be quite comfortable now with you to look after me. I surely hope so, sir. I'm certain of it. Now, I'm a rather moody man, and I'm working upon some music for which I have great hopes. Yes, sir. Above all else, I wish to be left alone. I do not want to be disturbed. Is that understood? Quite, Mr. Farrington. You may call me at mealtimes. At all other times, I prefer that you do not even enter this part of the house. I understand. Good. That's all I think. Just put up with my little oddities, and we'll get along very well. Yes, sir. Then I'll see about the ordering for dinner now, sir, if you'll excuse me. Now let me see if the second movement needs touching up, so perhaps I'd better... What is it, Mrs. McDonald? I thought I said I was never to be disturbed. I'm very sorry, sir, but there's a gentleman come to see you at Detective Barnes, sir, from the police. From the police? Am I to be bothered with more stupid questions? Well, show him in, I suppose I must see him. Yes, sir. Will you go in, sir? Thank you. Good morning, Mr. Farrington. You remember me, I think? Yes, yes, Mr. Barnes, I remember you. In view of the number of ridiculous and unnecessary questions you asked me after the death of my poor sisters, I have good reason to remember you. I've come to ask you more questions, Mr. Farrington. Tell me, did your sister Emily have a driver's license? I really don't know, and I don't care. You should care. Listen to me. First, your sister Florence died in an auto accident when brakes that had just been inspected failed to work. Even modern automobiles aren't proof against mechanical failure. Then Martha died in a fall from an attic window. Her body landed in the courtyard, a full six feet from the wall of her house. Well, what of that? It was much too far away for her to strike, unless she leaped or was pushed. And you have said she didn't leap. I repeated she did not leap, she fell. Perhaps. Now we come to Emily. She died of carbon monoxide poisoning in a closed garage. Well? You have said it happened because she went to get the car out to drive you downtown. That was your statement under oath. And a perfectly accurate statement. But I have just learned from the neighbors that Emily didn't know how to drive a car. Well, of course she could. Furthermore, they say her mental condition was such she could never learn to drive. Well, perfectly absurd. Did she have a driver's license? I repeat, I do not know. Because if she didn't, your statement is false. And if any part of your statement proves false, Mr. Farrington, I trust I make my meaning clear. Mr. Barnes, you can't show one jot of evidence to back up your ridiculous suspicions. Any court in the land would laugh at you for them. I can show no direct evidence. But there is such a thing as circumstantial evidence. You haven't even any circumstantial evidence. I have a world of it. The brakes on your car fail and you are an amateur mechanic. Well? Martha's body falling so far from the building that she must have been pushed. Mere conjecture. Finally, Emily dying in a car she couldn't drive. Though you have said she was going to drive you downtown. And she was. You've done nothing but build a tissue of fantastic suspicions. A jury will take them more seriously. Especially when they learn that just before the first death, you bought three tombstones, one for each of your sisters. That shows what you were planning. It shows nothing. It was a sale. I was merely being foresighted. Then, Mr. Farrington, why didn't you buy four stones? One for each of you. I refuse to discuss the point. There was no reason for me to kill my sisters. No normal reason, perhaps. Though now that you are alone, you are living very comfortably on the income from your father's estate. Indeed. Furthermore, Mr. Farrington, I have checked on your family history. I know the truth about your unfortunate mother. Well? The fact concerning her might cause the jury to look differently upon you. It might influence the jury to bring in a verdict of murder while of unsound mind. Get out. Get out of this house, you here. You can prove nothing. Nothing whatsoever. All right, Mr. Farrington. I'm going. But I'll be back. No. No. Wait. I'm ill. Help me. I... Here. Here. Sit here. It's my heart. There's medicine in my desk drawer. There. But a small bottle. The desk here? Yes. Here's the blue bottle, is this it? Yes. Hurry. There's water in the thermos jug. Yes, I have it. Here's the water and a pill. Swallow it. Yes. Thank you. That's better. The pain is going away. Then, Mr. Farrington, I'll be on my way. I warn you I'm going to check as to whether Emily had a driver's license. Today is Sunday, so it may take me a few hours. But if I find she had no license, I'm going to return with a warrant for your arrest. No. There's no need for that. Of course the poor simpleton had no driver's license. I should have thought of that. I should have thought of that. Then you admit you killed her. Certainly I did. Why shouldn't I? She annoyed me. Me. A genius. I'm afraid a jury won't care whether you're a genius or not, Mr. Farrington. Do you suppose I care what a jury thinks? A genius is not answerable to the laws that bind other people? The law does not agree with you. The law? What do I care for the law? You think you've trapped me, don't you? But you haven't. You hear you haven't. I think I have, Mr. Farrington. You fool. No one is going to put Edward Farrington in an asylum. No one. In a minute I'll be beyond your reach. What do you mean? I mean that tablet you so obligingly got for me is a deadly poison. Poison that I bought months ago. You and your circumstantial evidence. You're never going to get a chance to use. Never get a chance to blacken my name but Detective Barnes. Yes. What is it? Promise me one thing. Promise me you won't let them bury me with my sisters. This is the mysterious traveler again. Did you enjoy our little visit with Edward Farrington and his three loving sisters? You know perhaps Edward made a mistake after all when he didn't buy a fourth tombstone. By the way, did you live in a gloomy old house with three sisters who love you so much you can't bear to have them near you? Well, if you do, I'd advise you not to be too drastic with them. You might find yourself buried right beside them as Edward was. I know another man. Oh, you're getting off here. I'm sorry, but I'm sure we'll meet again. I take this same train every week at this same time. You've just heard the mysterious traveler, a series of dramas of the strange and terrifying. But before we tell you of next week's exciting story, here is Maurice Tarplin, the mysterious traveler himself with a brief but vital message from your government. You all know that the stories we tell on this program are just stories designed to entertain you, but not to be taken too seriously. Or what I have to say now, however, is not a story and is deadly serious. All over the world, people are starving. The United States and other food producing nations are fighting a battle against famine. To win, food stocks must be conserved. You can help conserve them by canning and preserving food for your own use. If you have a victory garden, put up as much as possible from it. When your local markets feature an abundance of fruits or vegetables suitable for home preservation, can or preserve a winter supply and release that much commercially canned food for the starving. You can serve your sugar for canning purposes. Follow the wartime rule of one pound of sugar to four quarts of finished fruit. And be sure to use only safe, tested methods. If you want information on any phase of home food preservation, write to the United States Department of Agriculture, Washington 25 D.C. Thank you, Maurice Tarplin. In addition to Maurice Tarplin, today's cast included Eric Gressler, John DeGarde, Anne Teeman, Inga Adams, and Martin Wilson. Original music was played by Doc Whipple. The Mysterious Traveller is written and directed by Bob Arthur and David Cogan. Listen next week over most of these mutual stations to a tale titled, As I Lie Dying, Another Tale of the Mysterious Traveller. The Mysterious Traveller is presented by the mutual network from our New York studios, Russ Dunbar speaking. We're tuned to this station for another exciting crime drama, True Detective Mysteries, which immediately follows station identification. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.