 In just a moment, Autolight presents Suspense with Herbert Marshall. It was the night before Christmas, and in Santa Claus sleigh, the electrical system was plenty okay. The ignition was perfect, worked like a dream, and the sleigh ran so smooth it made Santa be. What was Santa's secret, Arnold? I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight, it's no secret at all. It's just Autolight. Now, hello. You see, Hap, with all the kids in the world, depending on old Saint Nick Christmas Eve, he plays safe by replacing old or worn out parts in his Autolight Equip car sleigh with Autolight original factory parts, resistor spark plugs, staple batteries, distributors, starting motors, coils, generators, wire and cable. All famous for their Autolight ignition engineer dependability. Santa does it, why don't you? Harlow, Harlow, let's switch from Santa to Suspense. Suspense. Autolight and its 60,000 dealers and service stations bring you Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. Starring tonight, Mr. Herbert Marshall in Anton Leader's production of John Collier's Holiday Story. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Jingle all the wood fun. Just right. Then one more soap and shea. Jingle bells. Here's my dear. Down here on the cellar. Why? Just doing a little digging. And why may I ask if you've chosen this day of all days to dig up the cellar floor? Well, I thought as the weather's been so damp, this would be a good time to plant that little devil's garden I told you about. Devil's garden? What even nonsense is that? That was my little joke about it. You see, I've managed to get hold of the spores of several unclassified wild orchids. In their wild state they bloom under damp masses of leaf mould. The Orucanian Indians call them devil flowers because they appear to bloom under the ground. Well, I'm sure the Orucanian Indians will be very interested if you succeed in growing these ridiculous flowers under the cellar floor. Whom else it will interest, I can't imagine. Ooh, what that terrible smell. That's the leaf mould. Chemically identical with the earth blanket they grow under in the wild state. I suppose I should line the pit with concrete so as to prevent seepage from this foreign soil, but I don't suppose there'll be much time for it now, and I do want to get these started before we close the house. There certainly will not be time for it. Do you realise that we're sailing for America a week from today? And you've made no arrangements, whatever. Unless you call digging a hole in the cellar making arrangements, I certainly don't. Devil's garden, indeed. Sometimes I think you're going soft in the head, Wilfred. I suppose it is inconsiderate of me. You see, I've been wanting to try this experiment for a long, long time, but what with my lectures and seminars at the university, there never seemed to be time. Well, there certainly isn't any time for it now. I suppose you've forgotten I made an appointment for you at the barbers this afternoon. Oh, no, no, no. But must I shave off my beard, Hermione? I thought we'd been through all that. Of course you must. They don't wear beards in America. Go get your jacket on and do as I tell you. Yes, Hermione. And don't forget to take your umbrella. It looks like rain. Yes, Hermione. Oh, don't look so put upon, Wilfred. Someone has to plan things in this house, or you'd never even get to the university in time for your lectures. Much less make arrangements for a trip to America. Well, I know, I know. But what about my specimens? There'll be plenty of time to plant your precious Devil's garden when we get home from America. We're not going to be gone forever, you know. We'll be back here for the holidays. Yes, of course. Back for the holidays, I'd forgotten. Well, try to remember it. And if you can't do that, just do as I tell you. I've been making the plans in this house for 20 years. And if there's any digging to be done, I'll manage that as well. You understand, Wilfred? Yes, Hermione. Good. You have just 20 minutes to clean up this mess down here and keep your appointment at the barbers. And when you finish there, I want you to come straight home. Oh, I wanted to stop and pick up some books I ordered. Well, all right. But don't loiter the whole afternoon, browsing over those old books the way we usually do. Now, hurry and clear up this rubbish. Get rid of that smelly stuff. And no more digging, mind you. Yes, Hermione. Yes, Hermione. How many years have been since I've been saying that? 10 years, 15, 20? Clear up the rubbish. Yes, Hermione. Don't forget your umbrella. Yes, Hermione. Do this. Do that. Yes, Hermione. Yes, yes. How much longer can I stand this? Good evening, sir. Good evening, Miss Malcolm. Why, why, it is Professor Carpenter, isn't it? Oh, you were, you like me better this way? Oh, you look ever so much younger without the beard. 20 years at least. 20 years. You'll be glad to know those books you ordered have finally arrived. Books? A phytotomy of phaloid gametophytes and coniferous shrubs of North America. Those are the ones you ordered, aren't they? Yes, thank you. You're very kind, Miss Malcolm. Why kind, Professor Carpenter? Not many young ladies in bookshops would go out of their way to look up rare books for an old professor of botany. Well, you're not old, Professor Carpenter. Really, you look... And besides, I adore botany. It's my particular hobby. Oh, really? Yes. You never told me that before, Miss Malcolm. I was afraid to. You were so imposing with the beard and all. And Miss Malcolm... Yes? Forgive me if this sounds foolish, but I... I feel that shaving off my beard is the most important thing I've done for... for 20 years. Oh, it is. I'm sure it is. I'm ashamed that I've been so distant with you all this time. Oh, there were times when I almost spoke up. Times when you came in here tired after a day with your students at the university. You seemed so alone. The way I'm alone in the world, I'd like to have asked you to stay a while and talk with me. But some way or other, I wound up by giving you your change and letting you go on your way. You say you're all alone in the world? Since my father died. Did you never think of marrying? My father was a very remarkable man. I never found anyone who seemed to measure up to what he led me to expect of men. Miss Malcolm. It's been so long since anyone called me by my first name. I'd like you to, if you want to, it's Marion. Marion. And yours? Wilfred. Oh, how long have you been alone, Wilfred? Alone. Oh, I knew you were a widower. Of course, the first time I saw you. A widower? I can always tell. There's a certain sadness in a man's eyes, a sweet sadness, I think, when he's been married and then... A widower. I never thought of it in quite that way. But Drepps, I shouldn't be talking like this. But I've often wondered what she must have been like. Your wife, I mean. Hermione? Was that her name? Yes, Hermione. Not an easy woman to forget. Very strong, always managing things. The house, my wardrobe, my friends. When we dined at a restaurant, she even ordered my food. She was always managing things. You might say she... Yes, she managed herself to death. Poor woman. She must have loved you very much. But she needn't have put herself out, so... It's plain to see you don't need things managed for you. Is that so? You need companionship, I think. Someone sympathetic with your work. But the last thing on earth you need is a manager. How well you put it. The last thing on earth. It certainly took long enough about it. What do you look so pleased about? I don't know, Hermione. Getting rid of the beard, perhaps. I feel 20 years younger. Oh, look, even smaller. Your face looks triangular or something. I'd forgotten your chin was so weak. But never mind that. You can grow it back soon enough after the holidays. Where are you going? Down on the cellar. Oh. I just bought this electric lantern and I thought it... I'd put it way down there. Now, whatever possessed you to buy a thing like that? I don't know. I'd rather like this lantern. Might come in handy. Who knows? Now, Wilfred, don't start digging down there again. I've a hundred things to do putting the house in order before we leave. I want you to carry these boxes upstairs for me. Yes, Hermione. And if you are going down to the cellar, take this along and stuff it into the furnace. Oh, this is my old bathrobe. I may need it. Nonsense. I bought you a new one. Get rid of it. And don't start pottering down there with that devil's garden or whatever you call it. I'm through digging, my dear. I think the pit is quite deep enough now. For my devil's garden, it would all have to be carefully planned, of course. Just as carefully planned as Hermione was planning the trip to America. We both went about our arrangements as the days passed. I spent all the time I could with Marion and finally she consented. And then it was the last day, the big day. The day we were to sail for America. Operator. Operator, are you there? I'm still waiting on that call to Salisbury. Well, put them on quickly. Hello. Is this Paul Holt in Sons? It's Mrs. Wilfred Carpenter. Did you receive my letter? Good. Now, remember, we'll be back for the holidays and I want the job done without fail. What's that? Oh, no, I'm sure he doesn't suspect anything. Send the bill to me in New York as I instructed you, addressed in my name, of course. Oh, yes, I've already put them in the mail. You get them tomorrow. Thank you. Thank you so much. Oh, here you are, Wilfred. Where have you been? Backstairs. I dismissed the servants. Dismissed the servants? But I've asked some friends of mine into a farewell tea. Go and tell them it's a mistake. I'm afraid it's too late now. They've packed and gone. You have missed things up properly. How many times have I told you to leave things to me? I make the plans around here. Yes, Hermione. You'll have to do better than this. When I plan the trip home, I will never in the world be back here for the holidays. Back here for the holidays. Back here for the holidays. Must you keep saying that? Why not? We are coming back for the holidays, aren't we? Supposing I will offer to professorship in one of those wealthy American universities. Nonsense. Americans care nothing for botany. Luther Burbank was an American. That's different. What have you ever done except muck around in the dirt with a lot of roots and tubers? They asked me to lecture. That means something. Of course they ask you to lecture. Americans will pay to hear any foreigner deliver a lecture. Once. Now, there's no use getting yourself in a state about this, Wilfred. No doubt this extra money will come in very handy when we arrive back for the... Back for the holidays. Precisely. And it's no good. You're making a joke of it. Heaven knows where you'd be today if I hadn't got a sense of time. Yes, my dear Hermione. And as you've been so foolish as to dismiss the servants, you may empty the ashtrays and straighten up this room while we're waiting for the guests to arrive. I'm going upstairs to change. Call me when they get here. Yes, Hermione. It's Wilfred. No, my darling, nothing's wrong. My plans are the same unless you've changed. No. We'll meet in New York and be married there. I'll explain why later. You'll have to trust me. Yes, my darling. Wilfred? Sorry, I can't talk no longer. Yes, I'll meet to in New York without fail. Until then, my darling. Well, are you talking on the phone just now? Yes, Hermione. Whoever was it? It was Freddie. Freddie Sinclair. Didn't I hear you say something about meeting somebody in New York? Oh, yes. Old Freddie said he might possibly get over there before we leave. I should, of course, meet him there if he did decide to go. It seems very peculiar, but then all of your friends are peculiar. Yes, Hermione. Just look at your jacket. Have you been digging in that cellar again? Yes, Hermione. Well, there's no need for it. You can't possibly get that devil's garden thing finished. Go and change your clothes before the guests arrive. Yes. Oh, never mind. I see somebody coming up the walk now. Go and let them in. Yes, Hermione. Wilfred. Yes, my dear. Look out the window. There's Professor de Missus good enough, but who's that with him? Why, it's... Precisely. Freddie Sinclair. A peculiar you should have been talking to him on the phone not three minutes ago, and now here he is. Yes, isn't it? But then as you say, Hermione, all my friends are peculiar. Not half so peculiar as you. Digging in the cellar an hour before we leave for America. Just look at yourself. And now that I think of it... Yes, Hermione. Oh, never mind. Go and let them in. Tell me something. With the hole I'm digging in the cellar. Oh, good heaven. Stop rolling your eyes about that way. One would think you were digging a grave down there instead of a storage bin. Yes, Hermione. What's that? I said, yes, Hermione. Oh, bother. Open the door and stop saying yes, Hermione. I think, my dear... I've said it for the last time. For suspense, Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Herbert Marshall in radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, suspense. Well, Hap, what kind of presents are you giving your car this Christmas? My car? We'll now be sensible, are we? I am being sensible, Hap, because the most sensible thing every car owner can do is treat his car to Auto Light, Preventive Service and Auto Light Factory parts now. Right now, like Santa does. For with an Auto Light check up now, your car won't let you down later. Here we go. Look, Hap, Auto Light parts are original factory parts on many makes of our finest cars. The same as those put in the car the day it was made. Resistor spark plugs, stay full batteries, generators, distributors, starting motors, coils, wire and cable. Your car uses them all. Auto Light makes them all. You know, Auto Light parts and your Auto Light-equipped car go together like Damon and Pithius, like Duncan and Fife, like Chip and Dale. What's one without the other? Chip and Dale. So don't accept parts that are supposed to be as good. Get Auto Light parts. For Auto Light parts are built for your car, Santa's car, everybody's car. Oh, you're wonderful. Well, you've got Santa and everybody switching to Auto Light. So, friends, follow the footsteps of Dasher, Dancer, Dunder and Blitzen and whip on down to your nearest Auto Light service station or the dealer who sells your make of car and ask for original factory parts and service. Okay, Harlow. Right now, here's suspense. And now, Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood soundstage Mr. Herbert Marshall, starring in a gripping tale well-calculated to keep you in suspense. Back for the holidays. Hermione was so positive that we would be back for the holidays. That last afternoon, pouring tea for a few friends who had come in to say last minute farewell, she kept reiterating it. Now, mind you, Hermione, don't let those Americans lure your husband with one of their fat university jobs. We absolutely must have you with us for the holidays. He will be back, I promise. It's not absolutely certain, of course. Wilfred, what do you mean it's not certain? Of course it's certain. After all, Wilfred, old boy, you've contracted to lecture for only two months? That's right, but then, of course, anything may happen. Oh, Wilfred adores being unpredictable. Now, what other man would decide the very day, mind you, before leaving for America to dig a great hole in the floor of the cellar? In the cellar? Yes, he's going to put some unclassified wild orchids down there. A devil's garden, if you please. He's down so mysterious. That's Wilfred, though. It's really quite simple once you find out what he's up to. Now, take that telephone call he put through to you a few minutes before you arrive, Freddie. To me? Of course. Wilfred wanted to surprise me about your plan to meet us in New York next month. Wasn't that why he called to ask you not to mention it? But, my dear Hermione, Wilfred couldn't possibly have telephoned me within the past hour. I've been walking in the park since three. He didn't telephone you? How could he? And there's Hermione going to America. No, no, no, come, Fiddle, you may as well own up. Hermione has found me out again. But Wilfred, don't, champ. I really don't. You see what a poor liar Wilfred makes. He's as red as a beetroot. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Professor? Stringing poor Hermione along like that. It is for you, Freddie. I'm furious. You said nothing to us about going to America. But look here, old girl. I've been trying to tell everyone here... Oh, stuff and nonsense. The game's gone on long enough. Besides, we must start getting ready. It was marvelous of all of you to come in to say goodbye. And don't worry about Wilfred's little jokes. I will bring him back for the holidays. You may rely on it. They all believed her. For years she'd been promising me for dinner parties, garden parties, committees. And the promises had always been kept. This time they wouldn't be. I'd seem to that. The servants were gone for good. The farewells all said. At time to the minute, how long it would take to fill in the hole in the cellar. My devil's garden. Upstairs in the bedroom, I undressed, folded my clothes over a chair, put on my old bathrobe. Then I opened the door into Hermione's room. Hermione, have you a moment to spare? Of course, dear. I'm just finished. Then come in here for a moment. There's something rather extraordinary here. Oh, what Heaven's Wilfred, what are you lounging about in that filthy old bathrobe for? I told you to put it into the furnace. I'll do it today. I promise. Well, high time. Now, oh, what is it you want to show me? It is in the bathroom here. Just look. Who in the world is supposed to drop the gold chain down the bathtub drain? Nobody has, of course. Nobody wears such a thing. Then what's it doing there? Well, I don't see anything. Here, I'll hold this flashlight for you. If you lean right over, you can see it shining deep down. Such a lot of nonsense, just as we're... Well, I don't see it, Wilfred. Though I'm looking, Hermione, in just a moment... Wilfred, I absolutely refuse. Wilfred, what are you doing? Take your hands off my neck. I will, Hermione, just as soon as I've finished the arrangements for my trip to America. What are you talking about? You thought you were the only one who could plan things, didn't you, Hermione? Well, I've been making some plans of my own this past week. In exactly one minute and 45 seconds, you'll be dead. You see, I've planned it very accurately. You'll never get away with it. I thought you'd say that, Hermione, but I will get away with it. Don't mind the smell of the leaf-bowl down in the cellar when I take you down there today. Yes, that's why you're going, Hermione, into my devil's garden that annoys you so much. My friends. They all expect me back for the holidays. And if I don't come back, they'll start asking questions. No, they won't. No, because you'll write them letters, Hermione, and the typewriters you always do. They'll be signed H in that neat, cryptic way you always sign your notes to your friends. Oh, let me up now. No! It won't work, Wilfred. You're never any good at planning things. Ah, but I've changed. I've learned from watching you all these years. The lecture people in America. They'll be expecting you to travel with your wife. I will be traveling with my wife, but not my present wife, Hermione. What? Fortunately, they've never met you. I'll write a few letters home for you, then fewer and fewer. I might even come back alone in a year or two and sell the place. Say, you died in America. You're in this bloody house. Wilfred, it won't work, I tell you. That pit you dug in the cellar... I can assure you, my dear Hermione, it will serve its purpose well. Wilfred, you must... Sorry, my dear, I've got to get this done according to plan. You have just five seconds to say your prayers. Wilfred, you must listen. The cellar... Oh, Stuart. Ah, yes, sir. My wife is in dispose. She'll be taking her meals in our state room. For the whole voyage? Yes, for the whole voyage. A little, yes, sir. Not yet well enough to leave her cabin. I'm sorry. Oh, by the way, here's a copy of the radiogram you sent for your wife last evening. All you think of, I'll just check it over. But look here. What is it? Did the typist make a mistake? No. No, nothing important. She can correct it later. For a moment, I had a feeling that Hermione had been leaning over my shoulder again. Correcting what I had written, she always did. I had written the radiogram to Professor Goodenough and his wife. Have not been out of cabin the whole beastly trip. Wilfred, well, doubt will be back for the holidays. The copy read, no doubt will be back for the holidays. Exactly what Hermione would have written. Well, the rest of the voyage was uneventful. And Marion and I met in New York just as I had planned. Just as I had planned. Professor and Mrs. Carpenter, we have reservations, I believe. Oh, yes. We've been expecting you, sir. Boy. Yes, sir. Take Professor and Mrs. Carpenter's luggage up to their suite. You know, Mrs. Carpenter, you're quite a surprise. The letter reserving the rooms was so thorough. I was expecting an older, more forbidding sort of person, frankly, ma'am. No. As a matter of fact, we are just married. But my letter reserving the rooms... I wrote the letter, my dear, and signed it. Mrs. Wilfred Carpenter, just as a joke. What a cunning old fox you are, Wilfred. Rather than I think you would. I am rather. Oh, I almost forgot. The letter for you, Mrs. Carpenter. That's peculiar. I wonder who on earth... Well, we'll find out in good time. Come along. We're keeping the boy waiting. Like a cold, brisk shower to put a man to rights. Wilfred, this letter... Oh, yes, yes, letter. Darling, dry my hair, will you? Yes, dear. It seems to be a bill of some sort from a building contractor in Salisbury. Oh, that's wonderful. Oh, bother, dry your own hair. Thank you, Mrs. Wilfred. Let's see this bill or whatever it is. It's very puzzling, Wilfred. You were a widower, weren't you? I mean, Hermione isn't still alive. Oh, good heavens, no. Let's have that. Dear Madam, it's a good one. This is to acknowledge your order together with the keys to your house in Lonsdon Place. Our men have no difficulty in finding the place where your husband had begun the excavation in the cellar, but apparently he changed his mind at the last moment and filled it in again. Our men will begin digging tomorrow. You may rest assured it'll be a professional job and will be completed in ample time for your surprise Christmas present to your husband. We are happy to be conspirators with you in this thoughtful gesture and hope that Professor Carpenter will be pleased at the results of our work that he so quaintly calls his devil's garden very truly yours. Paul Houghton's son's contractus. What does it mean, Wilfred? It means that Hermione was right. I will be back for the holidays. Back for the holidays. Back for the holidays. Back for the holidays. Back for the holidays. Thank you, Herbert Marshall, for a splendid performance. Mr. Marshall will return in just a moment. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle through the snow. Your car's all happy, it's full of pep with all the light you know. Right you are and by Cornelia's electrical problems won't keep your car down when you stop at the shop that features auto light, parts and service. Sure as Chris Kringle means Christmas, auto light original factory parts and service top the town. So friends, stop in tomorrow at your friendly auto light service station or the dealer who sells your make of car and ask for original factory parts and service. Auto light? You'll find auto light service stations listed in your classified telephone directory under automotive electrical equipment. And remember, your auto light ignition system is the lifeline of your car. Yes, friends, and remember too, auto light means spark plugs. Ignition engineered resistor spark plugs. Auto light means batteries. Stay full batteries. Auto light means ignition systems. The lifeline of your car. And now here again is Mr. Herbert Marshall. It would have been a pleasure to appear tonight on suspense and it is my pleasure to extend to all of you for auto light Tony Lieder and his suspense cast and crew and myself best wishes for the holiday season. Next week on Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills you will hear William Bendix in another gripping study in... Herbert Marshall will soon be seen with Margaret O'Brien in the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer production of The Secret Garden. Tonight's suspense play was dramatized by Robert Talman from a story by John Collier. It was conducted, composed by Lucian Moraweck and conducted by Ludblustkin. The entire production was under the direction of Anton M. Lieder. In the coming weeks suspense will present such stars as Ethel Barrymore, Dana Andrews, Robert Montgomery, Danny Kaye, and many others. So make it a point to listen each Thursday to suspense. Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. And next Thursday, same time, here, William Bendix. In North America are enjoying an abundant Christmas. Millions of people in Europe are still hungry. Your ten dollars sent to care, C-A-R-E, will go a long way toward putting some less fortunate European family back on the road to health, happiness, and freedom. Good night. Merry Christmas from Autolight. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.