 The Mutual Broadcasting System presents The Mysterious Traveller Written, produced and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogan and starring two of radio's foremost actors, Jan Meiner and Wendell Holm, then Chains of a Dress. This is The Mysterious Traveller inviting you to join me on another journey into the realm of the strange and the terrifying. I hope you will enjoy the trip, that it will thrill you a little and cheer you a little. So settle back, get a good grip on your nerves and be comfortable, if you can, as we meet a gentleman who has just found exactly the house he's been looking for. I call his story, Change of a Dress. The Mysterious Traveller Have you ever seen a house that made you say automatically, that house was just made for a murder? Of course you have, but until now you've never wanted to own such a house. But now your name is Andrew Hollins. You're in your 40s and all your life you've been ultra-respectable. Now suddenly you feel trapped, completely trapped by your marriage to your wife, Joe Caster, who rules you with an iron hand. That's why when you find this bleak, lonely house on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, your heart leaps with joy, because it's a house just made for murder. But your story really starts many weeks before that and many thousand miles away. In another house, your ugly, uncomfortable home in Philadelphia. Andrew. Yes, Joe Caster? That's your fourth cocktail. There's only the third and they're very mild. Do cocktails before dinner, enough for a man of your age? We must think of your health. There's only 46. I really don't believe I have one foot in the grave yet. 47? And there's no use taking chances. I'm sure Dr. Stevens would back me up. Dr. Stevens behang. If another cocktail is taking a chance, I'll take it. All my life I've lived safely and soberly. I feel as if I'd spent 47 years in a prison cell. Been about as exciting. There. Andrew. You're in a very strange mood. Worried about you. But we need a tonic. Oh, yes, I do, Joe Caster. I do need a tonic. An exciting one. Oh, a vacation. That's a little change of scene and we must consult Dr. Stevens. By all means, let's consult Dr. Stevens. He's had a pill ready for every emergency in the last quarter of a century. Let's see what he prescribes now. You must go see him tomorrow, Andrew. I will call and make the appointment. Now, please, go dress for dinner. You go up to your room, Andrew. What's the use of rebelling? You're caught in a rut like so many men are caught and there's no getting out of it. You stand staring at yourself in the mirror. 47, but well-preserved, good-looking still, still capable of playing a man's part in the world if you had the chance. Then your thoughts are interrupted by a sound from the next room, the castle's room. You know your castle's downstairs telephony. You tiptoe to the connecting door, open it quietly and look in. You see Julie, your wife's personal maid, opening the little wall safe, where your castle keeps her jewelry. She spins the dial back and forth in a professional manner and the safe opens at last you speak. Well, Julie. Mr. Harlan. Ah, so you're more than a lady's maid, huh, Julie? You're also a thief. Oh, no, Mr. Harlan. Mrs. Harlan's asked me to get out her necklace. Mrs. Harlan doesn't trust anyone with a combination to that safe. She's a very cautious woman, Julie. All right, Mr. Harlan. So she didn't ask me to get out the necklace. So I just saw this safe open and I was closing it. There, it's shut. And you can't prove anything, you're not so smart. You've waited till I stole something if you want to arrest me. I didn't think of that. I was just wondering why you were doing it. I'm not in the mood for writing confession stories. I'll forget my things and leave. I'm quitting this job and you can tell Mrs. Harlan anything you want. I don't much care to tell Mrs. Harlan's anything. Fine and dandy, then we won't have any scenes. Goodbye, Mr. Harlan. I'm sorry, brother, Miss Julie. Sorry for you, I mean. Save yourself, Harlan. I'm sorry for you. You're sorry for me? Why? If you don't know, it's too late to tell you. Now, I'm going. No, no, wait. Okay. I mean, I want to talk to you, Julie. Not now. Later. About what? I don't know. I just want to talk to you. All right, Mr. Harlan. Meet me tomorrow. What? The buffet lounge at the Midtown Hotel. So Julie leaves and you, Andrew, wait until the next afternoon with much anticipation. It's the first unconventional thing you've done in 25 years. Keep an appointment with a woman, not your wife. And a thief at that. Why, Mr. Harlan? You showed up. Well, didn't you expect me to? Franklin, no. Why? Why what? Why did you want to see me? I wanted to ask you what you meant. But why? By saying that you were sorry for me. You really don't know. Well, maybe I can guess, but tell me. You're a rather attractive man, Mr. Harlan. Wow. Thank you. I mean it. Of course you're as tough as an old horse here so fast. Thank you again. Well, you are, you know. Yes, I suppose I am. In fact, just recently I've become unpleasantly aware that I am. Well, you're a rather attractive man, made to that woman unable to call a brother your own, so I'm sorry for you. I can't help wondering how you'd have turned out if you'd married someone so different. I can't help wondering myself? Well, then there's hope for you yet. Listen to that. To Mr. Andrew Harlan, he is hoping. Right. Well, Julie, here's hoping what? He is hoping you get a little fun out of life. Everybody's entitled to some fun before they die. Of course. Look at me. Why? I must see for sure. Sometimes I started out straight, got married, my husband turned out to be a thief, and he taught me to be one. He made a good team until he got killed. I see. Then I tried going straight. When I took the job with your wife, I really meant to reform, but she drove me to it. I couldn't stand. I wanted to steal her jewels just to show her. I suppose it doesn't sound sensible. But it does. I know exactly how you feel. You do? Yes. Yes, I do. Well, I think I hate you, Castor. Yes, when I think how she's ruled me all these years, I hate her. Well, listen to proper Mr. Harlan. Don't call me Mr. Harlan. Call me Andrew. All right. Andrew. You and I will have to see more of each other. I'm wishing to have something in common. And you do see more of each other, Andrew. Julie is a very good-looking woman. You're attracted to her. Very strongly attracted to her. You meet several times, and your castor suspects nothing. Andrew. Andrew. Huh? Oh, yes, sure, Castor. You're very absent-minded these days. Really? I hadn't noticed. I'm worried about you. The tonic Dr. Stevens prescribed doesn't seem to be doing much good. Doesn't it, my dear? I'm going to consult him about you. At your age, we must take no chances. Of course not, no chances. We must never take any chances, you castor. Not about anything. I don't understand what you mean. It's not sensible to take chances. Of course not. Everybody knows that. Well, you're talking clearly, too. Yes, I'm certainly going to consult Dr. Stevens. You hear her go to the phone to call the doctor, Andrew, and you're elated, because you've been making a plan, and the plan is working. When you see Julie later that day, you tell her what you're planning. Well, Andrew, you're looking like a new man. Well, I'm feeling like a new man, Julie, my dear. I've been working on something. What? I've been persuading our family doctor that I badly need a vacation. He's promised to convince your castor, but today he'll tell her. Your castor faithfully follows every suggestion he makes. She'll urge me to take a vacation, a long one, and you see? I think so, Andrew, but tell me anyway. You'll give me a chance to get away from your castor without her suspecting anything. I'll start out in the car and just disappear. I'll change my name. You and I will meet in California. And we'll start a new life together. You and I, Julie, a life with some fun in it. Bravo, Andrew! But, my dear, can't you just leave her? Isn't that simple? No, no, I can't. You don't know your castor. She's a pillar of righteousness, a tower of convention. She'd hound us. Somewhere or other, she'd punish me for my sin of leaving her. Believe me, she would. But, Andrew... No, no, I'm right. Every time I've gone against her wishes, I've suffered for it. She's a devil at one. Beneath all her prim conventionality. My only hope is to slip away from her before she knows that I've escaped. Well, Andrew, if you're sure... Yes, I'm sure. The only question is, will you do it? Join me, I mean. Take up a new life with me? Yes, Andrew. Yes, I will. So, it's all arranged, Andrew. You're going to make a clean break with your old life, with your castor, everything. When you start to think, it seems a little fantastic. You falling in love with Julie, a thief, and she with you. But it's happened, and it's your chance, as Julie says, at last to get some fun out of life. That night, your castor brings up the subject of your vacation. Oh, um, Andrew. Yes, your castor? Please put down that newspaper. I want to talk to you. Very well, my dear. I saw Dr. Stevens today. Oh, yes? What did he say? Well, he said that in his opinion, you were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Oh, nonsense. Run down, perhaps, but that's all. I respect Dr. Stevens' opinion. And to take no chances. Now, he recommends that you take a vacation. Indeed, what kind? With something completely different from your life here in Philadelphia. He suggested a long motor tour, perhaps a few months in, um, California. Absurd, your castor, absurd. I wouldn't dream of any such thing. Dr. Stevens says it's necessary, so it is all settled. We will leave in a week. We will leave? Of course, Andrew. I'm going with you to look after you. You are in no condition these days to be left alone. So your plan is backfired, Andrew. Your castor is going with you. It completely ruins everything, doesn't it? You can't talk her out of it. And your hatred for her becomes a consuming fury, as you tell Julie what has happened. I tell you, Julie, that woman is a devil of fiend. She's going with me to look after me, she says. I could strangle her. If Andrew listened to me, just walk out on her, make her a clean break. She won't be able to do a thing. She will, I tell you. You don't know her. She's capable of anything. She'll ruin our lives somehow, all legally and respectably. She really has you beaten, hasn't she? There's nothing we can do? I guess we just better forget the whole thing, Andrew. No. No, I'll think of something. I won't let her beat me. Not if I have to kill her to prevent it. There, Andrew, you've said it. It's out. Subconsciously, you've wanted your cast to dead for years. Now you realize it. And realize that to be free of her, you'll have to take matters into your own hands. The idea doesn't shock you in the least. The only question is, how? You don't know how, but you're determined to find a way. You arrange with Julie to go to San Francisco and wait to hear from you. Then you and your caster start out by car. You drive across the country, wondering every hour how you can kill your caster and get away with it. You reach California, you're desperate. Your hatred for your caster is almost too much to conceal. Then you find it. Mr. Smalley, the real estate agent from the tiny sea coast town of Port Oro, shows it to you. The house. The house that was made for murder. There it is, folks. There it is. The house I was telling you about. Villa Vista. Isolated, an ocean view, a beach of your own, quiet, seclusion, sea air. Just the thing the doctor ordered. Well, it doesn't look too bad at that. Does it, Jocasta? Are you out of your mind, Andrew? That house is the last place in the world I would live in. Oh, come on, Jocasta. Is this painting fixing up? Otherwise it wouldn't be available these days, would it, Mr. Smalley? Certainly not, Mr. Hollands. There's a housing shortage these days. And inside, Mrs. Hollands, it's very snug and modern. Really it is. Besides, my dear, look at the ocean. The beach. The ocean is cold and gray. I was thought the Pacific was blue. The beach is stony and dirty. I see nothing, whatever, to attract me to this. This is habitation. Well, we mustn't be hasty, darling. At least, let us see the inside. And so the little real estate agent shows you through the house, Andrew. First, a cellar. See, folks, you have a real cellar and a real furnace. Any time it gets a little chilly, just light up a fire. There you are, snug and warm. Cellars, dirt floor, damp too. Very unhealthy. Then the first floor and finally the second floor. Then Mr. Swally waits for your decision. My answer is no, Andrew. Positively no. Now this house is not made to be lived in. It's quite the only fit for a murder. You look at her startled, Andrew. Has she guessed your thought? It is an ideal house for a murder. Her murder. But no, she's merely using a figure of speech. You relax. Really, my dear, you're being too harsh. I find the atmosphere here very peaceful and Dr. Stevens did say a few months of peace and quiet would do wonders for me. Yes, he did. And a little paint and polish will make this house really quite livable. Will the owner fix it up, Mr. Swally? Afraid not, Mr. Holland. Afraid not. Name's Wilton. Lives in Seattle. Won't spend a cent on the place. Has unhappy memories for him. Indeed. In what way? Retired. Came down here to live. And his wife left him. Walked out. Went back to her folks in Texas. Well, shall we draw up a lease? Oh, it's done, Andrew. Jocasta gives in when you remind her of Dr. Stevens' advice. And you sign a six-month lease. You're not sure how you're going to do it yet. But you know that here in the Huttus seclusion of this house, you'll hit upon a way to be rid of Jocasta yet. You win that your wife keeps grumbling about the place. Really, Andrew, this house is something wrong with it. I know that it is. Andrew, you're not listening. Put down that paper. Oh, yes, Jocasta. I said there's something wrong with the atmosphere of this house. I can see it. Oh, now, Pet, you're just prejudiced against the house. It's perfectly good house. Needs a little fixing. That's all. No, it's damp and it's cold. I suggest you start a fire in that precious furnace. The real estate agent made so much of. Oh, you go down to the cellar, Andrew, and start a fire. Then you look around. It comes to you. Complete the whole plan. Because if the house itself suggests the idea to you, you find a rusty pickaxe in the corner. You start digging a hole behind the furnace. Just digging a hole, my dear, to drain off the dampness. It'll take more than that. That cellar needs a cement floor. Indeed it does. Someday it shall have one. I promise you that. Yes, Andrew, your plan is completed last. But before you can carry it out, you really need to own the house to be safe. So you finish digging your hole, quite a large hole. Then you stroll down to the village to talk to Mr. Smalling. Tell me, Mr. Smalling, the house Villa Vista. Is it for sale? Thinking of buying, Mr. Hollins? Like it as well as all that. Indeed I do. My nerves are much better. I've decided to reside in California permanently. Glad to hear it. But Mrs. Hollins, I guess she doesn't agree with you. Said she hates the house and is going back to Philadelphia soon as she can. That may be, but I shall stay. So is the house for sale? Well, I don't know. I'll have to phone Mr. Wilson in Seattle. He's never wanted to sell before. Hates the place. But won't sell. Wife left him there, you know. Yes, you mentioned that. Well, I suppose I try and see. I'll let you know. Thank you. Funny thing, your wife was in today. She what? Wanted to know the present address of Mrs. Wilson. The owner's wife, one who up and left him. Indeed, I wonder why. She wanted to write Mrs. Wilson about something. Wouldn't say what. She'd have heard her light into me when I said I didn't know the address. I can imagine. Well, thank you and be sure to contact Mr. Wilson right away. By your all said, Andrew. You can just buy the house. You'll be free of your caster forever. Free of this woman who's controlled your every movement for years. You wait impatiently for word from Mr. Smalling. Andrew, what in the world is wrong with you? Why, you've been nervous as a cat lately. I'm not nonsense, my dear, I'm fine. You are not, and it's this house. Made your nerves worse, and we're leaving at very soon. I'm afraid we can't. We have a six-month lease. And I say we will leave. I've started the machinery motion. What do you mean, machinery? I've made a discovery, Andrew. A significant discovery. What discovery? Now, I shall tell you, you just poo poo it. The way all you men are. Nevertheless, we will shortly be leaving this house, both of us. But I don't wish to leave. I like it here. No, that may be. I say we will leave. I will speak to it. As soon as I... Oh, a telephone. Well, that's it. Hello. This is Mr. Smalling. Is Mr. Hollings there? Yes, he's here. For you, that real estate agent. Hello, Mr. Smalling. What is it? News for you, Mr. Hollings. Wilson just phoned. He'd sell for cash. I see. I'm very happy to hear it. Two days ago, he said no. But he changed his mind. Seems he's in a little legal difficulty. He needs cash for a lawyer. Oh, that's too bad. But it's an ill wind and all that. Exactly, Mr. Hollings, exactly. Well, I'll drop in tomorrow and settle the details. Goodbye, Mr. Smalling. What was all that about? There's nothing important. Your cast, I have something to say to you. And I have something to say to you. Now, this house has been very bad for you. So, inside of 48 hours, I am sure we will be leaving it. Both of us. I just want you to get used to the idea. On the contrary, we're staying here, both of us. For a long time to come. In fact, I venture to say that you'll be here permanently. Nonsense, Andrew. 48 hours at the most. You're wrong, Jocasta. Andrew, but in the world, I... It's over, Andrew. It's finished. Jocasta is dead. You've killed her. Now she's safely buried in the cellar behind the furnace. The dirt smooths over, packed hard, leaving not a sign. You feel like a new man, free, exultant. You pack her things. Next morning you take them to the freight office, shift them back to Philadelphia. Then you drop in to see Mr. Smolley, give him a check for the house, and casually mention that you quarreled with your wife. She's left you, gone back to Philadelphia. You don't say. Well, now, Mr. Hollins, I guess women just don't like that house. Perhaps the house doesn't like women, Mr. Smolley. Perhaps the house doesn't like women. Very apt, Mr. Hollins. Very apt. You go back to the house, Andrew. You're filled with an enormous satisfaction. You're free. There's a new life ahead for you. For you and Julie. You call her on the phone in San Francisco. Yes, I know, darling, but it's all right now. Jocasta's left me, walked out on me, gone back to Philadelphia. Oh, that's wonderful. So we'll be together soon, very soon. How come today, Andrew? She spoke of a divorce. It won't take long. Excuse me, there's someone at the door. Hold on a minute, Julie, will you? Yes? Mr. Hollins? Yes, I'm Mr. Hollins. Well, I'm sure of Bigby. Miss Hollins, then. Why, uh, why, no, she isn't. Mind if I come in? Why, no, of course not. Thanks. When will Miss Hollins be back? I couldn't say. Oh, don't matter. I just thought I'd tell her her hunch was dead right. Her hunch? What are you talking about? I'm talking about Mr. Wilson who owns this place and how he killed his wife. Wilson killed his wife? That's right. Nobody guessed until Miss Hollins came along, put us on the track. We sure thought she was a little off her rocker, Mr. Hollins. Begging your pardon. When she, uh, came to my office insisting there was something wrong with the atmosphere of this house and she was sure it was because Wilson was a murderer. She, she said that? She sure did. Everybody in town thought Miss Wilson up and left, Mr. Wilson, but, uh, your wife, she wanted to write to Mrs. Wilson. Uh, looking for an excuse to break the lease, she said, and, uh, nobody had Miss Wilson's address. I don't understand. Well, it's likely. Even the post office didn't have a change of address for Miss Wilson. But, but what of it? Well, your wife said any woman who left her husband would put in a change of address so she could get a mail. Instead, it's all been going to Mr. Wilson in Seattle. Well, what does that mean? Your wife claimed this prove Miss Wilson was dead. Murdered. By George, she was right. Wilson killed his wife? He sure did. We phoned Seattle, asked the police to question him. He thought, uh, they knew the story and broke down and confessed. He's in jail now. Real smart work on your wife's part. Well, a couple of my boys would belong any minute to, uh, dig up the body. What? Wilson said the minute he set eyes on the house, he felt it was a good place to commit a murder. So he killed his wife and buried her real deep behind the furnace. Behind the furnace? That's right. Told everybody she run off. What is it, Mr. Hollins? Where you going? I, I left the phone off the hook. Julie? I, I just want to say goodbye, Julie. Your caster is coming back. This is the mysterious traveler again. Poor Andrew. Even in death, your caster had him under her thumb. Yes, they both left the house inside 48 hours, just as she had sworn. Where's the cover where the house just built for a murder? Too many people may have the same idea. So if you're ever tempted to dig a grave in your cellar, make sure no one else had the idea first, or you may get into trouble. In fact, it might be better to just forget the whole thing and, oh, you'll have to get off here. I'm sorry. I'm sure we'll meet again. I take the same train every week at the same time. You have just heard the Mysterious Traveler. Now you can enjoy other tense and exciting stories of the Mysterious Traveler in the current Mysterious Traveler magazine. In our cast were Jan Minor, Wendell Holmes, and Owen Jordan, with the title role played by Maurice Tarplin. Music is under the direction of Emerson Buckley and was composed by Richard DuPage. All characters in this story were fictitious. The story itself was dramatized from the pages of the Mysterious Traveler magazine. Rust Dunbar speaking, this program came from New York. Every day the news is different, and every day Mutual presents veteran reporters with the latest headlines. Weeknights, here Gabriel Heeter, Bill Henry, and Frank Edwards. Saturday and Sunday evenings, Dartmouth's famed expert Cecil Brown and the news. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.