 Roma wines present suspense, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. Salud. Your health, senor. Roma wines toast the world. The wine for your table is Roma wine, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is the man in black, here for the Roma wine company of Fresno, California, to introduce this weekly half hour of suspense. Tonight from Hollywood, Roma wines bring you as stars Dame May Whitty and Miss Maureen O'Sullivan. And so with the performances of these two distinguished leading ladies in the play called The Black Shore, we again hope to keep you in suspense. Listen to me, please. Listen carefully and tell me if I'm right. I say I'm about to be murdered. I'm not certain. No one's even threatened me. But I say I am going to be murdered. This is just a plain, ordinary-looking kitchen that I'm sitting in. But for me, I know it is a death house. If it were only three days ago and I could live them all over again. Or if it only were. The fair was being held in town, and everyone was gay. And Robert was late as usual, but I didn't care. Not waiting for Rob again, are you? Have you ever seen me when I have been? And you're the lawyer for the watch factory. Somebody ought to teach him how to sell time. One short film before that boy friend of yours comes round to steal your way. Oh, thanks George, but I'd rather wait. If he's not quick about it, he'll find nothing left to steal except the bench. All right. But let me know if you're interested in a change of heart. I've been watching you sitting there, and I wondered whom you were waiting for. Oh, just a friend. I see. I don't wish to seem inquisitive. Please don't misunderstand. It's only that your face struck me as being unusually bright and alive. As well as being uncommonly pretty. Thank you. Now you see, I have an eye for faces. My son was a sculptor. He worked almost entirely with heads. And my job was choosing them. It's all very foolish. I'll admit. More so since he departed some time ago. Oh, I am sorry. Thank you. That's precisely why I was watching you. Of course, I know nothing about you any more than you do of me. But, by the way, what's your name? Susan Applebee. Mine is Elizabeth Masters. How do you do? I live just the other side of town. Oh. Let me come to the point, Susan. I admire your looks, and I like the way you act and speak. I'm not a young woman, and I'm lonely. I have been ever since I lost my son. I need a companion, someone who can stay with me and help me do. And you resemble closely my very first companion. My best remembered one. Oh, but I... I'll pay you well. 30 pounds a month. Your chief occupation will be to brew me some tea and talk to me. Are you interested? Well, I have been seeking that sort of a position, but I... Splendid. You need look no longer. But you know nothing about me. I know that I like you and that I want you to accept my offer. I'll return here at the same time tomorrow evening. If you do want the position, please be here. And believe me, I hope you are here. Good night, Susan. Good night. See you tomorrow at eight. All right. I'll be here. What do you mean you'll be here? Oh, Rob, you frightened me. Well, you were whistling our tunes, sir. I thought you were expecting me. What do you think you're doing making death for strange women? Believe me, she is a strange woman. Mrs. Masters? Oh, no. She's nice. And Rob, she offered me a position. I'm doing what? Just what I wanted and a 30 pounds a month, darling. No small sum, that. Too bad you can't manage it. But I'm thinking seriously of it, Bob. Well, stop that. I don't want you ever to have one serious thought about anything. Now, Rob, I'm going to take it. What do you know about the old hen? Nothing yet. Sue, did you look at the way she dressed? Black from shoes to shawl. Why, the shawl's so large and black, you hardly know she had a face. She seemed charming. She might well be, but... I'm not so bad myself. And I want you for a companion too. Let's push the wedding date ahead, darling. Make it any time you will. Oh, now, we've gone through this so many times, you know it can't be done. But with the way you're coming along and with 30 pounds a month additional, why, Rob, in no time at all, we'll have all we need. You're an unawful stubborn fellow, darling. Oh, you know I'm right. How many evenings off will she allow you? We didn't get that far. Well, where's the place at then? Well, that's strange. She left so quickly I never had a chance to ask. Call it off, Sue. I... Well, why, Rob? Well, I don't like it. You know nothing about her, not even what she lives. Well, I told her I hardly spoke to her. Tomorrow I'll know everything. All right, my darling, you win. Oh. But let me hear from you as soon as you set me up. Well, of course I will. Everything's going to be fine. I'm silly, sure it will. Hello, darling. Hello, Rob. Everything will be fine. Well, that's... Tonight for Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you a star's day-may-whitty and Maureen O'Sullivan, whom you've heard in the prologue to the black shawl by R.R. Lewis. Tonight's study in Suspense. Far from the scene we have just left, far to the south across the equator, is another scene I ask you to visit with me. It is just before the dinner hour on the beautiful Roof Terrace Cafe in the Patano of Gaiacil, Ecuador. We are finishing our appetizers, an excellent sherry, and lifting your glass, you remark to our host that you envy him such wine. He laughs. You are very kind, he says, but it is your own California you must praise for this splendid wine. For you see, it is Roma California sherry. Yes, in many far countries where discerning tastes have found Roma wines, it is a luxury imported and treasured. For Roma wines are in every sense fine wines from the rich vineyard country of California, products of age-old winemaking skill aided by modern quality controls and tests. And here in the United States, Roma wines cost mere pennies a glassful because here there is no import duty, no overseas shipping cost. Such enjoyable flavor and constant quality, such low cost, such high wine values have made Roma by far America's largest selling wines, enjoyed by millions with meals when entertaining anytime. To enjoy these delights yourself, ask for R-O-M-A, Roma wine, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. And now it is with pleasure that we bring back to our sound stage Moreno Sullivan as Susan and Aimee Whitty as Mrs. Masters in The Black Shawl. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. I was there waiting as Mrs. Masters had instructed me the following night. We got into her car and she drove us off. It only seemed a mile or two from town but we twisted and turned so many times that in the dark I became completely confused as to my whereabouts. And finally, we stopped. There it is, straight ahead down the path. Mrs. Appleby, welcome to Masters Hall. Hi, Mrs. Appleby. Won't you join me in a cup of tea? Oh, thank you, Mrs. Masters. I'd be very grateful if I might. I love my room. Good. Sit down over there opposite me, won't you? I certainly will. The fires as inviting as the tea. I've always had one burning whenever I'm home. I get cold so easily. That's why I always wear this shawl around me. Sugar? Thank you. No lemon or milk, thank you. Now, Susan, tell me about yourself. Everything. All you've done. All you see in the future for you. Oh, there's very little to tell. I've always lived here in town. I expect I always shall remain here. After your marriage, you mean? I presume you have such intentions. I expect so. It is the only thing that matters, isn't it? Having someone to care for? Yes. I know. Before my son left me, I desired nothing. The scope of his talent was the world we lived in, and beautiful it was. I suppose love is like talent in that respect. It, too, creates a smaller world within the large one we inhabit, and makes you want it never to disappear. Did his talents receive recognition? To a limited degree. Everyone's horn is worth the promise of a truly great sculptor. The promise never bore fruit, because he hadn't enough time. Winter came far too early in his life. How old was he? I lost him before he was 21. Oh, Mrs. Masters, that's terrible. It's a greater waste. That's it. You realize it, too, the waste. To lose a useless thing, that can be forgiven. Or if the lost can't be held, there's nothing we can say, but cast away genius. To kill it before it's reached its full expression, that no one can forgive. No one can forget. Oh, no, no, please, Mrs. Masters. We have no control over such matters. Their gods will. Of course. Thank you, dear. You're very sweet. I wish you more success in the world of your love. I'm sure you'll have more. That's kind of you. Another good man ruined. I should be insulted. Ruined by a woman. That's it. Smile. Laugh. Life can be so short. Remember, my boy, enjoy life while you may. Select well that first night and did not awaken until almost nine. When I realized how late it was, I dressed quickly and ran downstairs. Mrs. Masters had left a note on the kitchen table, telling me she'd gone shopping. But I was to take my breakfast and then wait for her. I looked around to see if I might do something, but everything was in perfect order. I looked for a phone, thinking I'd call Rob. But I could find none in the kitchen or the center hall. Finally, I thought I'd take a look at the outside and get a bit of fresh air. I went to the front door and tried it. It was locked. I turned the boat and pulled. The door was still locked. I couldn't understand. Then suddenly I realized the door was locked from the outside. I ran to the kitchen, not afraid, but surprised. Then something struck me that I hadn't noticed before. All the kitchen windows were barred. I made a quick dash for the kitchen door. Did you have a good night's rest? Yes, I did, thank you. Fine. But you're trembling. Is there a chill in the house? You really should stay away from the doors. I know, but I wanted a breather there. And the front door was locked. Was it? Oh, I must have done it automatically. You see, I've lived alone for so long and it's natural for a person who lives alone to lock all doors behind them when they go out. Why, the window's barred. That goes back to the time my son did his work here. We had so much of it lying carelessly about all over the house. So much of value. Anyone might easily have climbed all the windows. Of course. Not silly of me. For a moment though, I felt so much like a... like a prisoner behind those bars. An unusual experience for you, I take it. A very unusual one. Now you're smiling again. That's fine. My boy always liked to see a smile on a woman's face. Without when he always said they reminded him of death. Kiss. Death. I wrote to Rob. Please come to see me now, Rob, if you can. Everything's all right. Don't worry about me, but come to me. It's unbelievable, but I must tell you that I still don't know the address here. I cannot tell you how to find it. But someone must know Mrs. Masters and can tell you where she lives. I want to send this off to you now, so I'll close. I can't tell you, darling, how great is my need to see you and my love for you, Sue. Mrs. Masters. Well, yes, Susan. What is it? Where can I post a letter? Let me have whatever you want sent, and I'll drop it in the box when I go shopping tomorrow. Oh, I don't want to bother you. I'll take it down myself. No bother at all. There's no where else to post a letter. And I pass the box every day. Oh, but I'd much rather... You've settled. Let me have it. It'll be sent early tomorrow. Of course. Here you are. Thank you. And Susan, I dropped my shawl. Would you mind? Oh, not at all. Exquisite, isn't it? Will you join me in a cup of tea? No, thank you. Mrs. Masters, this morning I said I was silly for feeling like a prisoner in your home, but the feeling is still there. What have I done or said that might create any such impression? That's not the question I'm trying to answer. I just feel it. The answer I don't know is what you want with me. What was that? Wait right here. I'll be down shortly. Where are you going? Upstairs. Would you wait down here? Do you understand? No. No, I won't stay down here. I'm frightened. I'm coming up too. Don't worry about the bus. It hasn't broken at all. No, there's not a scratch on it. Dear, dear, please don't cry. Shoesie, I told you to stay downstairs. Why don't you come up? All right, you know now. Mrs. Appleby, this is John Masters, my son. That night at dinner, there were three of us. I couldn't bear to look at him. The twisted face, the dull, glazed eyes, whimpering, grunting, unable even to speak a single intelligible word. And when I saw the two together, she, with the horrible black shawl draped around her, I knew for certain that in her own way she was as mad as her son. And I knew more surely than ever how great was my own danger. Late that night, I packed my bag silently and swiftly, and I waited. It was well past midnight before I dared open my door and look out. The house was completely dark, upstairs and down. I felt my way along and started down the stairs. I reached the bottom and went right to the front door first. Where were you going? You couldn't possibly know your way about what's outside the house. You'd surely have lost your way. Wouldn't she, John? Stop it! Stop it! All right. John, leave us now. John, dear, did you hear me? Miss Masters, you have no right to keep me here if I don't wish to stay. Well, when I accepted this position, I was of the opinion that you lived alone. Conditions have changed and now I wish to leave. Please, Susan, believe me. I don't blame you a bit, but think of me. Just for a single moment. Why do you think I asked you here? Do you believe it's so easy for me, chained to this lost thing, that no one to talk to day or night. I needed someone. I need you now. You told me he was dead. I never told you that. Only that he'd left me. And so he had. No. No, I won't stay. I'd go mad if I do. Very well, dear. It's no use trying to argue with you. But stay at least until tomorrow. You could never find your way tonight and if you stay over, it'll give me a chance to find someone in town. I'd rather go now if you don't mind. Tomorrow night. Just until then. Even if I've no one, well, you can leave after dinner tomorrow. I'll pay you two weeks' wages if you do. Please, you... you can't refuse me that. Well, I... Thank you. Thank you, dear Susan. I shouldn't have stayed. I knew that from the moment I agreed. I slept badly, waking from time to time, certain that I heard odd noises from the next room. Shackles, whispered, voiceless mutterings. But the night passed finally and today was uneventful. When Mrs. Masters returned from shopping in the village, she informed me that my successor would arrive tomorrow morning. And I was there for free to meet, leave immediately after dinner. She spent the rest of the day preparing the evening meal. It was as though it were a special holiday so great for the pain she took. The dinner turned out to be wonderful when Mrs. Masters was extremely gracious. Yes, Susan. We drink to you, my dear, dear Susan, to your future, to your man, to your future with your man. Oh, thank you. And may you remember this evening all the rest of your days. You're very kind. All the rest of your days. Thank you. To all of us, to all my dear, let me pour you out some more wine and some for you, John. I'm really sorry that I must hurt you by leaving you this way. You hurt me? My dear, if anyone has been hurt, surely it's you. We frightened you so. Made you so miserable. You're the hurt one, Susan, dear. Not I. Anything I've felt or said is forgotten now. Always when I think of you, I shall remember this evening. I'm certain of it. And so you may remember better, my dear. Let me imprint the occasion still more clearly upon your mind. Do you know what happening it is we celebrate? I expected it was my leaving. So it is. But did it seem likely that you alone would cause so much excitement in our home? Well, I... Miss Appleby, this is the third anniversary of the most important event in the history of Masters Hall. We honor you by asking you to partake of our joy. And I thank you for it. No need of that. You need only listen and be silent. Three years ago, my son was a genius. Today... he is my son. Three years ago, the world's door stood wide before us. Today all the shoulders on earth couldn't break it down. It was shut upon us three years ago tonight. She slammed it as she left. My son loved her dearly. My first sweet companion. I warned him. I told him that no woman would put up with his temperament. He wouldn't listen. He loved her madly. Madly. The perfect word for it. And for that, she slammed the door on him. Slammed it in his face, his heart, his head. That night he lost the power of his mind, ever since we waited in vain for its return. But we've honored the occasion. Don't think we've forgotten. Age of... Two years ago this evening, on the first anniversary, Sally Thwaite left us. We told her the story. She was overwhelmed. She couldn't bear to stay and left. Quite suddenly. Last year, after it was kitty, can't recall her last name at the moment, she wanted to leave us too. How could we refuse? And now, tonight, Susan Appleby. Tonight, Susan, you are leaving us. Where are you going, Susan? Have a kitchen. Excuse me, please. That is why I say I'm going to be murdered. I can't know for sure. But the way they laugh. The way they look. The way she sits there fingering that ugly, torn black shawl. The shawl that looks like death. What can I think? What can I do? Susan, there's one thing more. This shawl. So beautiful. So exquisitely wrought. You must surely have noticed that I wear it all the time. It belonged to her. A gift from my son. In her haste it slipped from her shoulders as she left. So this is all that remains of that lovely, wonderful creature. I should like you to wear it if only for a moment. You're so much like her. And her memory is John's greatest comfort. Oh, no. No, don't come here, me. Don't touch me. Please, just around your shoulder. Please, stay away from me. Ah, don't. Who would be coming here now? John, watch her closely. I look through the window. Ah, ah, ah. I don't know who he is. But surely you've seen the light in the kitchen. I'll just send him away. I'll only be a moment. Watch her, John. If she shouts for him. Well, you mustn't allow that. Must you, John? Ah, ah, ah. So you'd better be still, Susan. Yes? What is it you want? Well, I beg your pardon. I'm looking for a Miss Susan Appleby. You won't find her here. I'm sorry. Well, are you certain of that? It seems to me I recognize that shawl. It was worn by the woman Miss Appleby went to work for a night before last. Surely this is not the only black shawl in the world. Nor am I the only woman who wears one. And I've been inquiring in the village, and all the shopkeepers remembered you as the woman who always does. Is that right? I followed you here this morning. Then I returned to the village, and now I'm back again. Well, you can return right to the village. If you must know, Miss Susan Appleby was here. But she was entirely upset because I couldn't find her here. It's probably find her at home now. Well, all right. If she's gone home, I'll see her there. And so sorry for your trouble. Not at all. Thank you. Good day. Good day. Susan. Susan, was that you whistling a moment ago? I thought I told you to be still. I was nervous. It's a habit of mine. A very bad one. Of which you've many. Among them, no doubt, is that of driving men mad. That one just now. The love in his eyes for you. I've seen that before. In other eyes. I'm so terribly sorry he's gone away. Perhaps you'll return another time. Stay away from me. Here now. The shawl's around. Tighter. Tighter. Don't leave. Don't leave. You heard her. Let her go. Adams, get him. Yes, sir. Drive quickly, John. Quickly. Quickly. You killed him. Of course. This morning I went down to the local constabulary and persuaded Adams here to join me. I was interested, ma'am, because there'd been two disappearances in as many years. And just about this time, this sounded like a third. It almost ended like the other two. Almost. Absolutely. He's locked the door. Let's have a hand here. We'll break it down. All right, Joe. Watch out. Once we're in, she's mad and may try anything. Let's go now. One. Two. Three. Let's cut her down quickly. Too late. Her neck's gone. Rob. Rob. The shawl. The black shawl. So closes the black shawl, starring Dame May Whitty and Moreno Sullivan. Tonight's tale of suspense produced and directed by William Spear. To 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 Romovine with your meals. It's simple. The cost is very, very little. And it works magic in making food more enjoyable. You can serve Romovine with any meal or any time in any kind of glass you wish. Serve it chilled. Try different kinds of Romovine until you find those you enjoy most of all. Try hearty red Roma California Burgundy or the delicately delicious Roma California Sautern. The cost is mere pennies a glass, but you'll find even a pickup supper tastes like a banquet. Get Romovines today. If your dealer is temporarily out of them, please try again soon. Just ask for R-O-N-A. Romovines. America's largest selling wines. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. They may what he appeared through the courtesy of Metro Golden Mayor and is currently being seen in the white clips of Dover. Next Thursday, same time, Donald Crisp and John Loder will be our stars in another unusual study. Stars in another unusual study in mystery, suspicion, and dangerous adventure. At that time, you'll hear the only ghost story ever to have been staged by Suspense. Presented by Romovines. R-O-N-A. Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.