 And now, a tale well-calculated to keep you in suspense. In a moment, act one of hide-and-seek, starring Jackson Beck and William Redfield, and written especially for suspense by Bob Corcoran. This first portion of suspense is brought to you by the makers of Marlboro cigarettes. You settle back and have a full-flavored smoke. Have a Marlboro. Get a lot to like with a Marlboro. The filter cigarette with the unfiltered taste. Try Marlboro. Must-soul cry of a lake steamer fell into the sleeping Chicago street like a wet feather. Sending out ripples of fear that washed against a dandy man who would soon die. The nerve kept jumping under his eye. His hands were sticky. He stared out the window, forcing himself to go through the routine he'd created. And stopped at the all-night cigar store no matter how late. And had his shoes shined so he could go home with a clean pair. It was one of the reasons they called him dandy. But he wasn't enjoying it tonight. It never would again. He came off the shoe-shined chair like a dancer, moved to the door of the store. Nothing either way. The half-dollar glittered in the light and disappeared as the boy snapped it out of the air. Thanks, kid. Thank you, Mrs. Anseless. The street stretched ahead. Hard cars empty. Some old newspaper blowing. Big city tumbleweed. Dandy caught his reflection in a store window and had to stop in spite of his nervousness and desire to get away. The practiced hand rolled to the brim of his hat and the winds are not of his tie got pushed to perfection. Yeah. No wonder they called him dandy. Needless of him. Even his fingernails. Dandy thought of that afternoon and his mouth twisted and self-discussed as he cut across the street and hurried on, keeping near the curb and watching the shadows. The jerk play. Like a luck-happy punk instead of a professional gambler. Just a few more blocks to go and nothing had happened. He felt a little easier. But he had to get a thousand fast. Bigelow didn't like guys who played and then didn't make good on the sour ones. He had a long list of things he didn't like and that was on top. Dandy knew that when he made the bet that afternoon. You got it though, ain't you, Dandy? Yeah, sure, Ed. I just ain't got it on me. If you pick a crawler, I want that money. Sure, Ed. I want it fast. Hey, what am I, the thief of Baghdad? I always been good, ain't I? Yeah, you always been good, Dandy. It's just we're friends. I don't want you should welch on me, that's all. I ain't no welcher. I know a guy who was no killer till he knocked off a guy. I won't welch, Ed. That's good. Because if you're dead, I'd lose a friend. And all your friends would lose a friend. I'm in it. OK. Don't worry. It's a sure thing. The horse finished fifth, nowhere. Would he get the money? Sure. Take maybe a week. Guys, forget your name fast when you're broke. But nothing to worry about. His hotel awning invited him just ahead. Maybe he'd get out of town for a few days. Not that there was anything to be afraid of. Just Edgy's bet. Play it safe. He breezed into the hotel lobby. Thank God it was empty. Then the ripples of fear came back when he saw the scared-faced kid at the desk. What's the matter, Herbie? There's a guy waiting for you. He's in your room. He belted me and took the key. Tell me not to tell a cop, sir, you nothing. But you always been nice to me. It's all right, Herbie. It's all right. What's he look like? He's a real big guy. Fat but big. Thanks, kid. I'll make it up to you later. He fought to keep calm. No time to turn into a panic man. He stiff-armed the door and got into the street. His hand measured the few builds in his pocket. He wondered how far they'd take him. Bigelow was closing in. Then a piece of shadow split away from the wall. Hello, Dandy. The kid tell you about Bigelow's friend waiting for you inside? I don't know what you're talking about. Not about the one waiting outside, huh? The man was tall and thin, skinny even. He looked as if they'd made his face, forgotten a mouth, and then torn one. Dandy tried to move around him. Let's get my buddy, then we'll go see ya. When I say move, move. Dandy fought his fears. He watched the elevator arrow swing down. He was tall and fat. His eyes looked as if someone had tried to hide two grapes in some dirty grease. You got him. Good. Hey, it was taken off. This punk here must have told him he was in his room. He was with that punk. How do we got him? You're gonna keep your mouth shut about this, ain't you? Leave him alone. Shut up, Dandy man. I won't save you for Bigelow. Kid, you say anything. This is just a sample of what you'll get. Where we going? At Bigelow wants to talk to you. What's Ed want with me? Did you hear that, Earl? The conical tin shade hung over the desk. Everything had a coating of dirt. As if Bigelow had had the place sprayed with it. Dandy was very careful not to touch or rub up against anything. Nice to see ya, Dandy. It's always nice to see ya. Always so sharp. The Dandy man. Soup must have caused ya plenty. Me, I'm just a slob. No 200 dollar suits for me. A ruddy mate from Joe the Taylor and Madison. Just a slob. But I pay my debts. Where's my money, Dandy? What do you see, Ed? No conversation. I can get that any time with the boys here. But I wanna tell you... You got the thousand? Yes or no? Oh, now listen, Ed. Answer like he says. We don't like to be rough, Dandy. We're friends. What's the answer? No, I ain't got it. I can get it for ya, Ed. I ain't no well share. I mean, ask anyone in town. You told me you had it. I... I figured wrong. What come you figured wrong? I didn't know how far I'd gone. I laid out a lot of bets. The whole roll, huh? Kissin' the dock. You two can be a winner. Anybody can play. And you did it on my market, Dandy. Not all of it. Thousand of it. I don't like to be played around. I don't like to be played around out chump. I don't like you should be gambling with my money. Just, uh, give me a week. Seven days. Six. Five even. Tomorrow I'll have it. Chicago's hard in reputation, Dandy. One guy does it to me, and maybe some others think I'm losing my grip. It'd be bad if word got around somebody played me for, uh, Betsy. Ain't that right, fellas? Yeah, like you say. You shouldn't have spread the bets so thin. Should have kept down a little. I'll have to pay you a fat bigel. I'll get it, I tell you. The point is, you should have had it. Like you said. Oh, Ed, what's a thousand to you? You got... They know you, Standy. Like they say down at the courthouse, you got to be made an example of. Yeah. You wouldn't kill me. I don't want to be hard. I'll tell you what. I'll leave it up to the boys. Take the bloom off the Dandy man. Get him out of here. Now watch, Dandy. You won't be needing it. I'll match you for it. We're, uh... going out to the forest preserve, huh? A nice drive into the country. Oh, it's peaceful out there. You'll get a nice rest. You're caught. A joker. Yeah, we go down Clark Street, see? To North Avenue and then West to the country. We park a little, and we come back. Me and Lloyd, that is. Out North Avenue, right through the old neighborhood, his mind raced ahead. Forgotten details of dirt and squalor struggled forward from the shadows where he pushed them. The streets, the alleys. Then it hit him, the police station on Blackhawk. If he could get out of the car, run. Run to the station. You'd have to make the break when the car was moving. Time at just right. There was only one street that cut into North Avenue to do him any good, Sedgwick. Then halfway down the block, into the alley there was a vacant lot at the end. The car couldn't follow. Then a half block more to the police station and he'd be safe. Then suddenly he saw the battered old black-on-yellow sign as the car entered the intersection. Sedgwick. Dandy hit the door, then the street went over, running, sprawling into a tin newsstand. Then he was on his feet, running. The car wrenched around like a giant crab and then beat down the street. They didn't shoot. Dandy's hand hooked on no parking sign and saw. There was a building at the end of the alley where the vacant lot had been. He whirled around. The warehouse stretched back to the street on one side. The other had store bags, solid, no fences. The backbone of the elevated track cut over the end of the alley. A dirty boat burned on the warehouse fire escape that crawled up the side of the building like a steel vine, dead. Just out of reach. He pivoted and ran back to the back of the alley softly, softly. He tried and seek. He'd played it here before. It was a restaurant that blocked the alley. As he moved in among the garbage cans his nose wrinkled. Two shadows moved along the warehouse wall bottling him up. There were four garbage cans and a space. Then some more. The shadow was deepest right behind them. Dandy melt down. Then slid out flat. His soft manicured hands quivered from what he felt under them. He tried to hold his breath. Let's get him. Well, you could stay here and I could look. He's too fast. I don't want to shoot at that distance. Bigelow's pan is to be sure. I want to put the gun right in the middle of that suit and burn it. If you go for him now, there'd be too much noise. Well, maybe an elevated comes along and covers the noise. Still a chance. Dandy ain't worth it. Yeah, that's right. There was a drugstore back where he jumped out. Call Frank. Come to bring another guy. He'll be quiet and sure. We can go on out to the country like Bigelow wants it. Okay. Hey, wait a minute. I'm going to make us mad. He man took a dragon's cigarette. Dandy could see it weak and then glow bright red. The long finger flipped it in a gentle arc over the cans into the deep shadows. It hissed and went out as it hit the muck. We'll use them on you, Dandy. We'll cook you. A little at a time. You lousy. Stole me for a break. Why don't you plant smart, Dandy? Take off. He tries to go past me. The shots won't make no difference. I'll pick you up in a corner, head in north. Okay, then get some cigarettes. We want to have plenty. Then Dandy remembered. He'd get out. After all, the 101 shot suddenly turned into a bolt race. You remembered when he was a kid, the cops would come along and their way to the station. Sure, that wouldn't be changed. It was routine. Cops never change routine. They get fat on it. When the cops came, he'd holler. And they'd get the two who'd been pushing him around. Go ahead. Wait. I'll be right over. I got the cigarettes and matches. Lots of matches. He's going to wish he hadn't. Dandy grinned as he thought of the cops. And then suddenly realized how much his back ached from holding his head out of the slop and tin cans. He thought of his suit and his shirt and his hand-painted silk tie. And what his friends would say if they could see Dandy DeAngelo's laid out in this sewer. The smell flooded in on him. And he gritted his teeth. He didn't want to lie in that, too. First time he'd ever wished he was on an elevated. But the cops would be here any second. He didn't know what made him turn his head. He just lifted his cheek off his hand and swiveled his head around. The skin went tight all over his body and he almost screamed and jumped up. But instead, he froze and stared. Just two feet away, its head just emerging into the light was an enormous rat. He hated them. Worse than anything, he hated them. When he was a kid, he'd always been afraid of them. They were the old tenement, the dank hallways and crowded rooms, the dirty smells that got into your skin and stayed there. He'd been bitten as a boy and never gotten over it. What... what am I gonna do? He thought he'd left all that behind him. But he hadn't. Dandy DeAngelo's, the Dandy Man. Lying in filth, staring at a rat. If he made a sound, they'd move in on him. And then the matches and cigarettes and gun in the stomach. Easy, Dandy Boy. Easy. If it meant his life, he'd stay there with a rat. Sure. What can I do? What can I do? He had moved a few inches into the light, hugging the garbage can on the other side of the open space. It was a foot long and heavy. He remembered when he was a kid and they'd kill one. The filth into the fleas. That had been bad enough. But then, rats were dirty shadows that hugged the wall and ran. This one was on the same level with him, hugging the same wall. He'd come down a long way. Anytime you're ready, Dandy. I guess he liked slaving that mess. There was a little breeze and he saw the fur on its back move. He felt sick again. It hunched itself around. Dandy started back in spite of himself, in spite of the men waiting for him to make a sound. It didn't run at his slight motion. Dandy held his breath. He was so close to it he could even see the rings on its tail. It moved again and this time faced right at him. The beady eyes seemed to stare right into his own. The thin skinned ears stood upright and straight. Dandy could see the fleas crawling. It lifted its head and Dandy saw the teeth that never stopped growing, but get worn down and sharpened all the time. The spot on his hand where he'd been bitten as a kid started to burn. Dandy tried to move back. He was afraid to scare it for fear it would scuttle off over the cans and bottles and attract the two waiting to kill him. He reached out to the side and back. His right hand closed on a milk bottle. He gripped the neck and slowly, watching the rat, brought the bottle up beside his head, his arm cocked. He stayed there, trying not to jump up and run away from it, trying to wait for it. He hadn't been watching. Let's keep an eye on those guys. They say they'd be right over. Take it easy. You'd get anxious to get your hands on a bunker. I'd get it over with. Dandy realized with relief that he'd heard the cops if they'd gone by. They were always loud, but they'd better hurry. He swung his head slowly back to the rat as he did his skin crawled. If there was one rat, there were always more. He looked to the side, dreading what he would see, but there was nothing. It moved toward him. He stopped breathing and waited. He hunched there, watching him. Maybe it thought he was dead. He'd heard about dead people and rats. Maybe it wanted the warmth. It crouched there, evil, foul, staring at him. No. No. Dandy forgot the men in the alley with the burning cigarettes and the gun held close to his belly. He forgot the cops who were going to come any minute to be just like quietly as he was. All he could think of was that he was Dandy DeAngelois, lying there in front of a rat. The old neighborhood was still there, waiting for him all these years. He hadn't gotten away after all. No. But he would get away. He swung the bottle invisible in its speed, swung it with all his might. No. Swung it with all the disgust and loathing and hatred that he felt. It didn't break. It hit something soft. He beat us and beat it and beat it and beat it. He didn't hear them as they moved over to him. They're guns at his head. Finished. Finished. Free. Dandy stopped and stood up. He looked down at it as it lay in the light between the cans. It wouldn't bother him anymore. The old neighborhood and the dirt and the smells sank, sank back away, away. He dropped the bottle. He tried to wipe his hand. Dandy killed a rat. Yeah. Now it's our tail. Suspense. Made and seek. Starring Jackson Beck and William Redfield and written especially for suspense by Bob Corcoran. In a moment of word about next week's story of suspense. All of us see the product that comes out of Hollywood. What people like to know though is what goes on in Hollywood. The amusing anecdotes, the joys, the heartbreaks, life in this so untypical town. These and many other intriguing subjects provide Ralph Storey's weekday dimension reports in Hollywood. Listening to this CBS Radio Network feature will bring you information and entertainment of film land. Your next date with Ralph Storey in Hollywood tomorrow. Another CBS Radio Network dimension feature is a woman's world with Betty Furness. Three times each day we send Betty your way. It's produced and directed by Bruno Zorato Jr. Music supervision by Ethel Huber. Sound patterns by Joseph Kibibbo and Don Creed. Featured in tonight's story, Santos Ortega as Bigelow. Larry Haynes as Lloyd. Joseph Julian as Earl and Jack Grimes as Herbie. Listen again next week when we return with Dagger of the Mind written by John Robert. Your tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Phil Rizzuto's Sports Time scores with the fans Monday through Saturday on the CBS Radio Network.