 Tired of the everyday routine? Ever dream of a life of romantic adventure? Want to get away from it all? We offer you... Escape! Escape! Transcribe to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. You are searching frantically through the dark empty rooms of an apartment, panic gripping your heart, terror at your heels. For the girl you love who was with you a moment before has disappeared, vanished. As if into thin air. Today we escape from reality with a gripping tale of a girl who vanished and the man who had to find her to save his life. As Cornell Woolridge told it in his great story, Finger of Doom. Nothing unusual ever happens to you, huh? In your comfortable American city nothing ever could, could it? Let me tell you something. Right on the common everyday streets of a big city, I had the strangest, most fantastic adventure anyone could dream of. And I've had my fill of adventure for the rest of my life. This happened several years ago before the war on an ordinary area evening in early spring. Well, not so ordinary because I had a couple of free tickets to a good show and I was picking Steffi up at her office for dinner. See, we were going to be married in less than two weeks. So naturally I was impatient as I waited there on the sidewalk in front of her office building and of course she was late, last one to leave as usual. I felt like a picket pacing up and down in front of the door but finally there she was, spun gold, piled on her head, blue eyes shining and carried me. Hi darling. What's that? Have I kept you waiting long, I tried a hurry all I could. With this? Just a package. I promised his nibs I'd deliver it on the way home. But you're not going home, we're eating out and going to a show. But it's right on the way. I have to leave it at a flat in Martin Street. It won't take a minute. Why can't he get somebody else to run his errands for him? We're late now. This will cut our eating time down. Woof, woof, Grumpy. So this is what the thirteenth does to you. Thirteenth? You mean you've forgotten? You mean you aren't counting the days? Oh sure, thirteen days left. Thirteen and a half. Don't forget that half if it's to be a noon wedding. I don't like the thirteen all by itself. I'll be glad when it's tomorrow and only twelve left. You know something? You're cute. The more I know you, the cuter you get. I bet you won't say that a year from now. My bet you'll be calling me your old lady then. You mind? Well, not right at first, maybe. Okay, come on, let's make like delivery boys. Oh, what's the address? Mr. Miller, 415 Martin Street, apartment 4F. We're on our way. Sure is a frowsy neighborhood. Everybody can't be rich, you know. 411, 413. Oh, there it is. Yeah. Some clients your boss must have. I'll be glad when you aren't working for him anymore. Oh, did you give him your notice? Yesterday. He gave me the funniest look. Good thing he doesn't know you. He'd eat you alive. Hey, wait. Huh? Here it is. Oh, I was sailing right by. See how you affect me? Mm-hmm. Okay, give it to the whole man or the janitor or somebody and let's get going. Oh, no, I've got to take it up personally and get a receipt. Besides, there doesn't seem to be anybody here. It's one of those push button doors. What did I say the name was again? Muller or something, wasn't it? What would I do without you? 4A, 4B, 4C. Oh, here it is, 4F. Oh, no wonder I couldn't find it. The name card's fallen out. This must be the button. You wait down here for me. I won't be a minute. A minute's too long. Well, this'll hold you until I get back. Oh, the door. Only a minute now. Bye. Bye. For a minute I watched her through the glass. She got into the little self-service elevator and closed the door. Then all I could see was the gleam from the elevator in use light. Then she was gone. I lit a cigarette and waited. How long does it take to smoke a cigarette? Ten minutes? Ten? Anyway, I finished it. Nothing happened. I stood around fidgeting, shifting from one foot to the other, from one shoulder leaning against the wall of the other. A woman came by with a squalling kid, gave me a hearty look and went on in. Tried to figure out what could be taking so long. Maybe they didn't have a pencil to sign the receipt. Maybe they had to find one. I lit another cigarette, took a couple of puffs. But now my patience was gone. What is this? I rattled the door first, and then I pushed the button for apartment 4F. I still didn't plan to go up. I just wanted to let her know that I was still alive. But I got no answering buzz. I kept ringing it, holding my thumb down until it was white. Still no answer. Suddenly I wasn't angry anymore. Suddenly I was scared. I did the instinctive thing. I ran out into the street again and looked up at the face of the building, searching the windows, but of course there was nothing to see. And that move cost me a chance to get in. When I was out on the sidewalk, a seedy looking character came out of the door, letting it click shut before I could get back in. I tried the buzzer again. Couldn't be out of order. They'd answered it when Staffie pushed it. But now, nothing. Dead to the world up there. By now it was 20 minutes. 20 minutes since she left me. Now I was frightened. I knew I had to get up there. I pushed another button, anyone at random. The door was released and I was in. 4F was at the back of the building. I stood out in the dark hallway and listened. There wasn't a sound. First there was a relief. At least she wasn't in any difficulty as she'd be screaming, but then when I began to knock and kick the door, practically break it down and still nobody made a sound, I began to get panicked. Heads poked out of doors all along the hall. Hey, cut out the racket. Where will I find the janitor? I raced down to the basement, found the janitor eating his supper. I barged right in. You looking for something? Come up with me quick. Well, you bring your pass key. I don't like the looks of it. My girl took a package up. I've been waiting for her for over 20 minutes and she never came down again. Now they won't answer the bell. Come on, please, hurry. Which apartment is it? Wait a minute. Couldn't be 4F, not that one. Why not? Because there's nobody living there. That apartment's been vacant for six months. He took me up and showed me he was right. It was an empty flat. I went through its rooms calling Stephie's name, but she wasn't there. There was nobody there. It looked like there hadn't been anybody there for months. The dust was thick on the bare floor, on the sills of the locked windows. See, Mr. She couldn't have come in here. But I saw her. I saw her ring the bell and go in the door. In this door? The downstairs door. Oh, well, she could have gone to any apartment then. But she was coming here. She rang this bell and somebody answered. Nobody could have answered. Nobody's been here. She must have rung another bell. Is there somebody in this apartment named Muller? No, we never had anybody by that name. Not in the whole 12 years I've been here. Somebody must have gotten in and was waiting for her. Will you tell me how they could? It was locked. You saw me open it with me past key, didn't you? Listen, we're going to ask all the tenants on this floor. Maybe they heard something. Now, wait a minute. I don't like to disturb them. Maybe this girl just walked out on you. Maybe it had a quarrel. No, no, there was nothing like that. I know she wouldn't just walk out. Besides, how could she? Is there a back way? Yes, but only through the basement. She would have had to pass right by me. I was waiting downstairs at the front door, and she didn't come out that way. Then, obviously, she's still in here. Well, maybe. Or maybe... What? Are you sure she ever come in? Of course. You mean, am I sure there ever was a girl? Don't get excited, mister. All right, we'll look. We'll ask. Take it easy. Take it easy. Okay. Hear anything in 4F? How could I? The place is empty. Anything? No. Yeah, the buzzer was going like crazy. Like somebody was leaning on the button downstairs. That was me. Then, a little later, this guy banging on the door. He asked me where to find you. Never mind. Thank you. Sorry to have disturbed you. Okay. Well, that's all of them. No trace at all. Maybe now you let me get back to my supper. There's nothing more we can do. Maybe if you go where she lives or works, you might find... Wait here. I'm going to call the police. First, I got a patrolman from the corner. He asked a lot of questions and then called his station. A few minutes later, a detective was dropped off, a fellow by the name of Gilman. I must admit, he was thorough. He checked on every apartment in the building. The only thing he learned was about the false ring which let me in. But there was only one, not two. And that meant that whoever buzzed for Stephie was expecting it. Gilman checked Department 4F thoroughly. The windows with the undisturbed layer of dust, the door, the keyhole, everything. And then he said... There's nothing to show that she or anyone else ever came in here by. Look, don't do this to me. You make it sound like she didn't come here with me at all. That's what it does sound like. But don't you see? Look, I was going to take her to a show. Here. Here are the tickets. Don't mean a thing. We're going to build this from the ground up and see what we've got. You say her name is Stephanie Risco. Address? 120 Farragut. What's she look like? She's blonde and she came up to about here on me. Okay, okay. Don't let it get you. I'm not scared because she's gone. It's because she's gone in such a fairy tale way. She just disappeared into thin air. All right, let's get about finding her then. You met her at 6.15 outside the Bailey Goodwin Building with the packets to be delivered here. What did you work for? A press clipping service called the Green Star. It's a one-man organization operated by a man named Hessem. One dinky little room on the ground floor of the building. What do they do? I don't know much about it. They have a list of clients and they go through the paper and clip out any story which mentions one of the clients. They get about a nickel of clipping. Is there any money in that? I don't know. Okay, we're going up there. We'll find out. The night watchman led us into the office after Gilman showed him his badge. It was a tiny room with only a desk, a telephone and another table and a filing cabinet. Except for a lone can of Canadian ace brew. All of them were bearers' bones. This is no office. This is a telephone booth. Not a big business, I guess. This is their list of clients. They can't be making very much money at those prices. Stephie got paid every week. There's nobody named Muller in the file. What do you think? I don't see anything here to indicate to you even as a secretary. You could ask the night watchman. I already have. He's never seen her. But that doesn't mean anything. He works at night and she works in the daytime. Okay, I only said he's never seen her. Doesn't know anything about her. Hessem, her boss. You can ask him. We're going there next and I guess you'll have a chance... Wait a minute. Hear something. What? What kind of gum does your girl chew? She doesn't. Likes lifesavers, hates gum. Whoever sits at this table chews gum, lots of it. It's all over the bottom. Oh, 2D fruity. Oh, 2D... That doesn't mean anything. Maybe somebody came in and put it there. Maybe it's all... Maybe Hessem... Okay, let's go. We'll see what he has to say. Hessem lived in a swanky bungalow type home in the suburbs. As Gilman and I left the police car and walked up the drive to the house, I got the strangest feeling of unreality. Like this was all a horrible nightmare. It couldn't be happening. My knees were sagging, but then Gilman was knocking on the door and it was answered by an ugly, foreign-looking character. I went away and returned to Ushersen to Hessem's presence. I'd seen him a time or two, but he didn't know me, so he gave no sign of recognition. Good evening, gentlemen. Mr. Hessem, I'm Sergeant Gilman, police force. Oh, yes, I'm pleased to know you. I don't take up much of your time, but I need a little help. Gladly, if it is within my power. Did you ever see this young fellow before? No. What has he done? I'm not sure yet. Do you know anyone named Muller at 415 Martin Street? Muller? No, I don't know anyone by that name. I think we have a miller, a Mrs. Elsie Miller on our list, who all the time divorces and remarries. Will that do? She owes us $29. Then you didn't send the package over to Muller, apartment 4F, 415 Martin Street at 615 this evening? No. Why, you look... All right, you keep quiet. I'm sure I didn't, Sergeant. But wait, it's easy enough to confirm it. Oh, Ms. Riska. Yes? Stephanie, will you please come in a moment? What? Steady. My assistant happens to be right here at the house tonight. I had some dictation to give her, and she's transcribing it. We usually mail out clippings, only when there's some urgent request do I send them by personal messenger. Yes, sir. Suddenly, the room was spinning in front of my eyes. I was looking at it, trying to see it, but lights kept streaking across the room like comets. And their voices came to me through a thick fog. Stephanie, did we send the package to 415 Martin Street this evening to Mr. Muller? No, sir. Not that I know of. I see. And tell me, did you ever see this young man before? Do you know him? I know. I don't believe I do. Wait. Wait, this isn't Stephanie. He's calling somebody else by her name. This isn't Stephanie. I tell you that... My dear sir, this is the only young lady I have working for me. In just a moment, we will return to escape. But first, Mr. and Mrs. X thought they were pretty smart, smarter than the Narcotics Bureau and the Bureau of Customs combined, but they overlooked a casual passenger aboard the luxury liner. For a fascinating true live tale of crime and smuggling on the high seas, here are gangbusters tonight. And along with it, CBS's other great Saturday night thrill a minute show, The Adventures of Philip Marlowe. Both of these programs are regular Saturday night features on most of these same CBS network stations. Gangbusters recreates famous crimes and their solutions by national, state and local agencies. The Adventures of Philip Marlowe are based on the character of the famous Private Eye created by Raymond Chandler, the noted mystery story writer. And now with our stars, Harry Bartell as Kenny and with Ed Begley as Gilman, we return to the second act of escape and finger of doom. Essence stood there and blandly said it. This strange girl was my fiance, was Stephanie Riska. He stood there looking surprised and hurt. And she stared at me with a just right puzzled expression on her face. Gilman was holding me with a sort of a half Nelson and gritting at him. Stop it, stop it. But I tell you this isn't Stephanie. Stephanie is blonde. This girl is brunette. Stephanie short comes up to here. This one's tall. I tell you. Shut up. You're asking for trouble. Now calm down. Sergeant, I don't believe I understand. I'm just beginning to myself. Miss, how long have you been working for Mr. Hessem? Why, since October of last year. About six months. And your name is Stephanie Riska? Why, yes, of course. She's lying, I tell you. Shut up. I don't mean to doubt your word, Miss, but just for the record. I suppose you could show me some proof of your identity. Why, yes, I... Right here in my bag. My driver's license. Oh wait, the bag has initials. Oh yeah, SR. Of course SR. And the driver's license. Stephanie doesn't drive. She has no car. But I do. It isn't a very good one. Anything else? This letter addressed to me. Address 120 Farragut. May I look? Why, yes, of course. Uh huh. It's genuine all right. Here you are and... I don't know what else I have here, but... Oh, I get it. Here you are. Oh, thank you. I see you carry a chewing gum in your purse. Why, yes. Hmm, 2D fruity. Not many people like that flavor. I never chew any other. Well, thanks. Sorry to have bothered you both. Come on, Jim. I hope you've been able to help, Sergeant. A lot. Thanks. Good night. Good night, Sergeant. Okay, what's your racket, kid? Are you a pushover for the mental ward? Or are you working off a grudge against this guy? Or did you do something to some little blonde blue-eyed number and you're trying to set up an alibi even before we find out about it? Things like this don't happen. They can't. One minute she's here and then she's gone. No one will believe me. Why should we? You haven't produced a single person all night who actually saw this blonde of yours? Where'd I get her name and address, then? Ah, that's one thing I'm not sure of. So I'll give you one more spin for your money. You stand or fall by the place you live. 120 Farragut Street. Come on, let's go. Okay, this is it. Come on. What is it? A rooming house? Yeah. She lived alone, just a room. She only came here from Harrisburg six months ago. But the landl... Now what's the matter? I just remembered. Hessen recommended this place to her. Oh, look. You want to go in or you want to go to headquarters? The tougher you get with me, the tougher I'll be on you. Listen, you gotta listen. I was only up there once, but I remember it. Sticking in the mirror of the dresser is a litho of the Holy Mother. On the radiator's a rag doll. I went for her at Coney Island and a... and a Hickok wallet. I gave her last Christmas. And on a shelf against the wall is a gas ring. And from the light fixture to the gas jet is a string where she hangs stockings to dry. Will you remember those things? The bedspread's green and there's a green and yellow upholstered chair. Don't you see? I couldn't make these things up. She must be real. You almost convinced me. Come on. Now when we get inside, you keep your mouth shut. One peep and I'll split your lip. Yes. You got a girl named Stephanie Riska living here? Yep. Fourth floor front. How long has she been here? Riska? Six months. What does she look like? Dark hair, dark skin. About as tall as this young fella. Talks kind of husky. Why? Police. I want to see your room. Sure, sure. Come right in. Gilman practically had to support me all the way up. My knees just weren't functioning. But that was nothing to the shock I got when the landlady opened Stephanie's door. The room was all different. Not one thing was the same as I had told Gilman. He didn't even look at me. Has she always had it fixed up this way? Always. Since the first week she moved in. Uh, does she drive a car? Yeah, a little old coupé. She's a real clean rumor. Only one thing I got to complain about. Oh, there it is again. Under the wash stand. Oh, yeah. Chewing gum. Yeah, let me see it. Uh-huh. 2D fruity. You better watch your friend. He looks like he's gonna faint. Let him fold up. That isn't anything to the falls he'll be taking in a few minutes. What did he do? Murderer? Not her, but I got a good hunch he murdered somebody and he picked the wrong name out of the hat. He don't look like a murderer. I hit him and ran. I knew I had to. He was going to take me to the police station. Then I wouldn't have any chance to find Stephanie. Not for a long time. Maybe too long a time. And I had to find her. I went back to the Martine Street flat. It was the only place to go. Back to where she disappeared. Start from there. I knew Gilman would catch up with me sooner or later, but I might be able to turn up something first. I told the janitor that cops had sent me back to take another look at the apartment and got him to give me the pass key. He fell for it. I went up to the apartment alone. But once there, I couldn't find a thing. I wandered through the empty rooms, calling her name helplessly. I tapped the walls, scraped the plaster, I've been there about ten minutes when I heard a little sound out in the hall. Like somebody coming up the stairs very quietly. I slipped out the door and stood at the top of the stairs. It was the janitor with Gilman and two cops. They were coming up the stairs. There was only one way for me to go. Up. So up I went. And then they saw me. One flight up, I came to the top of the stairs. The sort of skylight window opened under the roof. We're standing loose, partly open. I ran out across the roof. I tried to hurdle the low wall to the next roof. I missed, fell. All right. Don't move. I got you. Let it live at last. And when I get you down to hell. All right. Go quietly. It's no use now. Well, I'll be. What's the matter? Halloon. Throw your light over here. What a... What? It's a package. Yeah. Package lying here on the roof. Addressed to Muller apartment 4S. That's it. Don't you see? That's what she brought. Holy smoke. Okay, Ken. Somebody did bring a package here tonight. I'll give you that. And when I give you that, I guess I give you all of it. She's a blonde. Never choose gum. Doesn't drive. All of it. Somebody must have jumped her, brought her up this way, across the roofs and down through some other house. They dropped the package on the way. Maybe didn't have time to come back and pick it up. What'll we do? Call in. Call in. Have a radio car, keep Hesson's house, a Myrtle drive spotted until we get there. I want to stop up and offer that office again first. Right, right, Sergeant. Do you think... No, no, kid. Not yet. They would have done it right here in the empty flat and let you take the rap. Come on. Buck up. We got work to do. At Hesson's office, we found two things. These files are funny. About every third name is a foreign one, with a foreign mailing address. Why would those people want local press clippings? What do you mean? I mean, this looks like a job for the FBI. Spice stuff. Maybe your girl had found something out, and that's why they figured she was too dangerous. Did she ever say anything? No, but she told them she was quitting next week to get married. So, she didn't suspect anything, but they thought she did. Same thing. Come on, we'll stop off at that rooming house. I want that landlady picked up. Obviously, she's one of them. Changed the room all around, stuck the gunman to the war stand, everything. Hey, wait. Look, on the floor, next to the baseboard. Yeah. Guilt hairpin. So, she was blonde. Okay, let's go. At the rooming house, with the landlady turned over to a cop downstairs, Gilman went over the room once more, fished into the wash basin draining, came out with a couple of blonde hairs. Now, why didn't I think of that the first time? Girl, shampoo's her hair once in a while. Then we were on our way to Hesson's house on Myrtle Drive, all the way I was praying. When we arrived, it was dark, deserted. Even the police car Gilman had ordered wasn't there. We went in, shooting the lock off the door. We searched the ground floor, then upstairs. In an attic room, we found a shortwave radio. But not Steffie. Just as we got back downstairs, Calhoun came in with a report from the radio car. They told him to Pier 07 North River, the three of them got on a tramp steamer that sailed immediately. Then they're gone, it's too late. They won't get out of the harbor. We'll have them picked off at quarantine. Three of them you say, Calhoun, a blonde girl? No, they said two men and a dark girl. Then where's Steffie? Still here, probably. Where? We'll soon, wait. Do you smell something? Smoke? Yeah, and gasoline. The basement, come on, hurry. Smoke, the basement's filled with smoke. Here, over this way. Steffie, Steffie. Hurry, this place will be a mass of flames in a minute. I can't see. Steffie. Here, here, give me a hand. Here she is, hurry. Steffie, Steffie, is she? No, no, she's breathing. Okay, hurry, let's get her out of here fast. In the next few minutes, there was a lot of excitement around there. While the fire companies fought the fire, we cut the ropes off Steffie and revived her. She was all right. And I sat there in the police car with my arms around her as if I'd never let her go again. And that's just how I fell, too. Then a radio report came in. Well, they got them off the ship at quarantine. They'll be turned over to the FBI eventually. But first, well, they better hadn't let me get my hands on them. You know, kid, she is pretty. Gee, thanks for everything. It's okay. Well, I gotta go and... Oh, say, I've got something I want to return to you. Yeah, what? This. Um... I went out like a light when he hit me. And a few minutes later, when I came to, Steffie was holding me in her arms, stroking my head and smiling. Kenny, he said to tell you no hard feelings. But when anyone socks Dick Gilman over the head, he gets socked back, even if they're the best of friends. Uh, Steffie, you know something? What, darling? You're cute with stars in your hair. Well, with Ed Begley as Gilman. Featured in the cast were Joy Terry, Edgar Berrier, Louise Arthur, Peter Prouse, and Kay Miller. Special music was arranged and played by Ivan Dittmarz. Next week, you are clinging to a narrow window ledge, your strength running out. Well, before your eyes seen through the window, the most beautiful girl in the world is about to die. Because of you. Next week, we escape with an unusual story, The Adaptive Ultimate, by John Gessel. Be sure to tune in again at this same time next week, when once again we offer you Escape. You can escape again tomorrow night when CBS's famous dramatic series presents screen star Edmund O'Brien in another special Sunday night escape broadcast at 6.30 Eastern Standard Time. Mr. O'Brien will star as an explorer who becomes a prisoner in a beautiful and strange country populated by blind men. Be sure to hear tomorrow night's escape starring Edmund O'Brien in H.G. Wells' famous story, Country of the Blind, on most of these same CBS network stations. Now, stay tuned for five minutes of the latest news to be followed by Let's Pretend over most of these same stations. This is Roy Rowan speaking for CBS, The Columbia Broadcasting System.