 Dangerously yours, a half hour of romance and adventure brought to you at this time each Sunday by the Vic Chemical Company and presenting today an exciting tale based on Alfred Noy's famous poem, The Highwayman, starring Victor Jory. I am adventure. In my name men of Travis, the highways, the byways, the skyways of the world. I have sat with rubber barons before their fireplaces. I have sailed with pirates in search of treasure. I have fought beside galants, dueling for a kiss. I've climbed mountains and crossed deserts daring all for one great moment. I am the romantic fire that burns in the heart of youth that makes men dream and dare and conquer. I am adventure. I am dangerously yours. Tonight follow me to the forests of the England of long ago. Tonight we ride these forests by the side of one of the most dashing figures of legend, The Highwayman. The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moon was a ghostly gallant tossed upon cloudy seas. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor and the highwayman came riding, riding, riding. What's all this? Let it put you out, sir, but I'll have your purse if you don't mind. I'd be hanged if you will. You are sure it will be if I don't. What is it, sir Guy? Stay in the carriage, Bess. Oh, good evening, Mr. Highwayman. How goes the night? Profitably? You're a spirited girl, aren't you? I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you mean. You see, I'm of a poor family. There's nothing you'd steal from me. Aren't you being rather foolhardy, dismounting? A highwayman is always safer in his saddle. Bess, get in the carriage. Don't stand here bandying words with this fellow. Your father will be worried to death, wondering why the coach is late. Here, my highwayman, take my purse and let us go. Heavy purse, too. It's enough to buy your freedom. And mine? By yours. I'll take a kiss, if you'll give it to me. She'll see you hanged first. You're a highwayman. Aren't you accustomed to taking what you want? I have that reputation, but I'd like to be something a little more than a highwayman to you, or perhaps a little less. You're strange, to have a man make love to you with a gun in each hand and a bag of plunder over his shoulder and speak of asking. But since I am asking. Since you are asking, of course you must have the kiss. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, and the highwayman came riding, riding, riding. The highwayman came riding up to the old indoor. All right, and thank you to them all around, then, Lord, the best in the house. Hello, Tom. You're happy tonight, John. I take it the hunting was good. The hunting was very good, and there's a fortune of my saddlebags that'll be on its way to Ireland tomorrow to fill a lot of empty-airy stomachs. Oh, careful. Those men at the corner table are watching. Who cares? No one has ever seen the North Road highwayman except in mask and hat. Who's going to link him with a slightly tipsy, very happy courtier? You never know who it is, and that's the danger, but someday someone will, and then what? And then the end. Oh, my God. I give you my word, then, Lord. I give you my word, then, Lord. The infant and fellow kissed your daughter. Not only did he steal my purse, but he kissed your daughter. Well, now, sir guy, what's a kiss? Look here, I hope to make that young lady my wife someday, and I can't have her running around kissing every Tom, Dick, and high woman in the country. And will you please ask her to hurry and dress? We should be late for Lady Catherine's ball, and I despise being late. I'll see what I can do, sir guy, but she has quite a costume to get into. Aren't you wearing a costume? I haven't any taste for such powder all. I wear a mask, and that's the positive limit I'll go to. Hurry her along, Tim. Hurry her along. All right, all right, all right. The back of my dress, please. Sir guy's in a fierce mood. Oh, funny, daddy. I know. He's very angry with me because I kissed the high woman. He ever possessed you to do a thing like that? I don't know. Isn't that funny, Father? Except that even though he wore a mask, even though I knew he was a bandit, he was someone I recognized. OK. When I saw him, I thought, why, of course, when I used to sit by the window watching the empty road in the moonlight, it was you I was watching for, and when I used to dream of someone's lips and someone's arms, it was your lips and your arms. I know it sounds foolish, but it's true. That's why I kissed him. And if he'd said, come with me, I think I would have gone. It's a bad business being in love with a highwayman. Best you can get out of it is the worst you can get out of anything. They all come to the same end sooner or later, you know? Sir guy's well off. He can give you a fine home and a lot of beautiful things you never had. Not many girls in your position in life have the opportunity to marry so well. I know, Father, but those aren't the things I want. Sir guy would suffocate me. I want my life to be the way it was tonight. Exciting and beautiful and challenging. But tonight you were flirting with death. There's no man in England more dangerous to love than a highwayman, daughter. And no man in England more exciting. I hope you never see him again. I pray to God you never see him again. In fact, I forbid you to see him again. Tim! Tim, where's that girl, Tim? Fussy old goat. Come on, Father. How do I look? For the first time since you were born. I wish you weren't so beautiful. But the first time since I was born, I'm glad I am. You'll never see him again if I can help it. You'll never see him again. Come on, darling. Come, my dear, we're going to be late. You know I despise being late. Yes, sir guy, I know. Father? Yes, what is it, Miss? Who is that man sitting at that corner table? Him? Sir John Langershire. Well, haven't you ever seen him before? He's one of the King's close associates. Very promising young man. Oh. Why? Does he interest you? No, but for the moment I thought he was someone else. Good night, Father. I'll be home early. Good night. Have a good time. Your daughter is very beautiful, landlord. She's a beautiful amount of trouble, Sir John. That's what she is. Why? Why? I'll tell you why. There's Sir Guy Barrington ready to marry her and give her a good home. And all she can talk about is that highwayman. The highwayman? Does she know the highwayman? Oh, the rascal held up her coach tonight and kissed her. Can you imagine that? Yes, I can. And now she fancies herself in love with him. Well, I shouldn't be standing here telling you all this. She says I talk too much, and I suppose I do. It's heavy on my mind tonight. So she's in love with the highwayman. Where is she gone now? She's gone to Lady Catherine's masquerade. And since Sir Guy's taken her up, she gets invited to all the Gentry's affairs. Well, I've got to see to my guests. Can I serve you something? No. No, I think I must be leaving. Good night, Sir John. Come again. What you're thinking of is too dangerous, John. Don't suppose Lady Catherine would have welcomed a highwayman? Well, you can't attend a party in a mask. Too many of the guests have seen you in a mask. It'd be fun to put them to the test. John, are you tired of living? Do you look forward to dangling at the end of a rope? Dangerous, the frosting of a cake. Good night, Tom. I'll see you later. Well, you've lost your mind. No, Tom, only my heart. He'd a French cocked hat and he's for it in a bunch of blaceless chin. A coat of claret velvet and breeches of brown-dose skin. May fit it with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh. And he rode with a jewel twinkle. His pistol butts a twinkle under the jewel sky. Shall I announce, Sir? This is a masquerade, isn't it? What fun is it if you announce everyone? I'm afraid I cannot admit you unless you give me your name, Sir. What seems to be the trouble, Hop? This gentleman does not wish to be announced, Lady Catherine. Oh, and why is that? Lady Catherine, what's the point of a masquerade if you announce who is behind each mask? Where's the intrigue, the adventure? Well, are you sure, then, that all the guests are friends? Were you to see my face, Lady Catherine, you'd laugh and let me in and there'd be no mystery to the evening. Oh, come, Lady Catherine, you're more sporting blood than that. You seem most familiar, and at the same time, most strange. For all I know, I could be letting in the high women. I'll not deny that. As a matter of fact, that's who I'm dressed to represent. Well, Lady Catherine, do I attend your ball, masked and unannounced? You do, since that is your pleasure, masked and unannounced until midnight. Have the pleasure of this, Waltz. Why, I have a partner. He went to get some refreshments. Then, you're free for the moment. Yes, for the moment. You're lighter than moonlight, my arms. Wasn't it rather foolish of you to come here, Sir John Lancashire? Oh, so you know my name? I know enough about you to hang you. Why do you say that? You surely didn't think I'd forget you so quickly. Or that Sir Guy would. Sir Guy doesn't worry me too much. Perhaps you'd better worry about me, sir. If you think I'm going to stand by and let you rob my friends, you're vastly mistaken. I'm your prisoner. Call out. Turn me over whenever you wish. Are you so sure I won't? No, but I am sure that if you do, it doesn't matter very much what happens to me. As a matter of fact, I'd advise you to call out, my dear. It would be very wise. Why? Because if you don't, you will be my prisoner for the rest of your life. If I turn you over, they'll kill you. If you don't, there may be a day when you'll die with me, because I'll never stay away from you. Not now. Well, my dear. I cannot do it. God help us both. I cannot do it. Yes, sir. This was my dance. I was just filling in for you, sir Guy. Excuse me. Who is that man best? I don't know. You don't know? You don't know? Isn't he familiar to you at all? No, I can't say that he is. Oh, well, I have a refreshment server by the window. That fellow's voice, and it could be very convenient to hear. Yes, sir. What are you doing up here by yourself? It was warm in the ballroom. I wanted a breath of air. What are you doing up here? Looking for you. It's a beautiful night, isn't it? You could almost touch the stars. This is my kingdom, and now it's yours. The world at our feet and heaven at our fingertips. All mine, darling. This is the hour to be young and in love. That's our moon in the sky. And this is our world all about us. This, I have to say it. I love you. I love you this hour and will for every hour until the end of time. My darling, my darling. It's almost midnight. They'll be unmasking soon, and you'll be leaving. Oh, take me with you. I can't. I can't take you with me. Not yet. It's too dangerous. Why do you live like this? Why do you steal? You don't need the money. I do. But not for myself. I've never kept anything for myself. You see, there are people in this world who don't realize they have too much, just as there are people who don't realize they don't have enough. That they're dying too young and too poor. I steal for them. Those I take from can always spare it. Do you understand? Yes, I think I do. But it's wrong. I know it's wrong, and so do you. There must be more honorable ways you can help. Are you? Are you trying to reform me? I'd like to. I'd like to keep you safe. Because you see from tonight on, my heart will be riding the highways with you. And it's pretty vulnerable. An accident to you could kill it too. You're very sweet. There's something between us. I knew it this evening when you kissed me. It was like coming home. Whatever comes to one of us must come to both of us now. It's like that, isn't it? Yes, it is like that. I wish it wasn't, but it is like that. Goodbye for the moment. Be careful. Oh, be careful. He's heading for his horse. We'll never catch him. After him, you're fooled after him. But only briefly, the usual commercials have been omitted in this audition. And we proceed immediately with act two of The Highwaymen. The highwaymen came riding, riding, riding. The highwaymen came riding up to the old indoor. Over the cobbles, he clattered and clashed in the dark in-yard. And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred. And he whistled a tune to the window. And who should be waiting there but the landlord's black-eyed daughter, best the landlord's daughter pleading a dark red love knot into a long black hair? You'd better walk out by the gate down the roadway. We don't want to wake him farther. If he hasn't awakened now, I don't think that he will. You never can tell. Oh, John, it's been so long. For three weeks, I haven't heard a word from you. Life. I've been busy. I've been making plans. I've decided to become an honest man for you. There's a prize I'm after tonight, just one prize. And I'm taking it and then quitting. I've decided to buy a farm in the north. Would you like being a farmer's wife? I like being yours. Wonderful. All right now, here are my plans. I'll have to be off now because I have a long way to ride. But I'll be here about noon tomorrow. And then we'll find a clergyman and become Mr. and Mrs. Farmer. And that will be the end of the highwayman. I can't believe it. Oh, here, here now. What are you crying about? Maybe dreams do come true. Maybe there is something to fairy tale endings. Maybe the prince and princess do live happily ever after. I've been so frightened. I've had such dreams. I kept seeing you dead by the roadside. Wasn't that foolish of me? Very. Don't you know my life is charmed? Now then, just one thing more. If they press me sharply, I may not be able to get here during the day. If you don't see me at noon, look for me by moonlight. You'll surely come. I'll come to you by moonlight, though hell should bar the way. And now, until tomorrow, goodbye, darling. Until tomorrow. And dark in the dark, all in yard, a stable wicked creaked, where Tim the Oslo listened. His face was white and peaked. His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy clay. But he loved the landlord's daughter, the landlord's red-lipped daughter. Dumb as a dog, he listened. And he heard the robber say, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way. Well, Bess? Well, Father? So John Lancashire and the Highwomen are one and the same. Doesn't that sound a little ridiculous to you? Yes, but I know it's true. Tim the Oslo heard you a while ago. He told me your whole conversation. Bess, I want you to promise that you'll never see that man again. He's bad. He's a robber. And you're a good girl and not for the likes of him. I'm going to see that he's put in prison. And you must tell me where he hides. I don't know. And if I did, I wouldn't tell you. You'll have to catch him yourself. No. You'll catch him for me. He'll come to see you, and then we'll have him. No. No, you can't make me do that. Well, you wouldn't do that. You couldn't do that. Don't you understand how I love him? It isn't love, it's a disease. You'll get over it in time, and then you'll fall in love with a decent, God-fearing man. He's decent and God-fearing and fine and honest. Don't you think I'd know if he weren't? No, you're young. Your judgment isn't worth much yet. I bless you, Bess girl. You're all I've got in the world to love. That's why I'm doing this. Breaks my heart to hurt you, but I know what's the right thing, and I know you'll thank me for it someday. No, no. Follow listen to me. If he dies, there's nothing in the world for me anymore. My heart would always be empty. He's the blood that courses through me and all the pain and all the joy. He's what my eyes want most to look upon, and my arms want most to embrace. He's the difference between life and death and heaven and hell. Don't you understand if he dies, I want to die. Love isn't that important, Bess. It only seems so now and then when we're young. We don't really die of it. You'll have to trust me. You'll have to believe that I know what's best for you. This pain will pass in a week or a month. There'll be someone else then. Please, please. Don't do this. Don't betray him. I love you, daughter, and I must. If you do, I'll despise you. I'll despise you and hate you and load you until I die. Good night, Bess. I'm sorry, but I'll have to lock your door. Father. Father! He did not come at dawning. He did not come at noon. And out of the tawny sunset before the rise of the moon when the road was a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor, King George's men came marching, marching, marching. King George's men came marching up to the old inn door. You're the landlord here? I am, sir. Where is your daughter? She's locked in her room. I'll take you up. Follow me, men. She's... You'll treat her kindly, won't you? She'll be all right as long as she doesn't try to escape. All right, landlord. You can wait downstairs. I'd like to stay. We'll call you if we want you. Yes, sir. Tired of the foot of the bed. Pretty wenshin' she. A little tear-stained. Well, that's what comes of having a taste for the wrong people. You're nothing to say? No. Well, tire up for a death watch. Better gag her. I don't want to take a chance of her screaming and warning him. You would if you had the chance, wouldn't you? Yes. Is she bound good and tight? Yes, sir. All right. You and Keith take your watch by that window. You shoot him from there. Well, my pretty, how about a kiss for a hard-working soldier? Don't you dare! All right, all right. You're a little peppery for my taste anyhow. How about giving her a spot of this brandy? No, I've got this gag fix now, but I'll have one myself. She really looks like she's keeping a watch, all right. All she needs is a gun. That's a good idea. I'll tie a gun to her chest. Then she'll really be a dangerous little girl. Too bad her hands won't be free to aim it. She makes sure work of it. There you are, lady. Now keep good watch. Now keep good watch. And they kissed her. She heard the dead man say, look for me by moonlight. I'll come to thee by moonlight though hell should bar the way. She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good. She writhed a handle of fingers with wetless sweat and blood. They stretched and sprained in the darkness. The hours crawled by like years, till now on the stroke of midnight, cold on the stroke of midnight, the tip of one finger touched it. The trigger at least was hers. The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest. Up she stood to attention with the bell beneath her breast. She would not risk her hearing. She would not strive again. For the road lay bare on the moonlight, blank and bare in the moonlight, and the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to a love's refrain. Very easy. Maybe isn't coming. Maybe someone's having a laugh at us. Well, if they are, it isn't her. We'll look pretty silly going back to London and saying we sat all night for nothing. Maybe he's got another love. Maybe he's not interested in this one anymore. Listen, did you hear? We've got to be sure it's him. We can't make a mistake. Get ready with your guns. It's him. I couldn't mistake that figurine as Saddle. It's him. Until he gets a little closer, he mustn't waste his shot and frighten him. Abyss! He turned. He spurred him westward. He did not know who stood bowed with her head or the musket drenched with her own red blood. Not until dawn he heard it, and slowly blanced to hear how best the landlord's daughter, the landlord's black-eyed daughter had watched for her love in the moonlight and died in the darkness there. Back she spurred like a madman, tricking a quest for the sky with a white road smoking behind him and draping a brandished eye. Blood red where he spurred to the golden moon, wine red was his velvet coat. He shot him down on the highway, down like a dog on the highway, and he lay in his blood on the highway with a bunch of lace at his throat. And still, of a winter's night, they say when the wind is in the trees and when the moon is a ghostly gadget tossed upon cloudy seas, when the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, a highwayman comes riding. Riding, riding, a highwayman comes riding up to the old indoor. He whizzles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there? Good evening, Mr. Highwayman. How goes the night? Profitably? That depends. I'm asking for a kiss. Aren't you accustomed to taking what you want? But since I am asking. Since you are asking? Of course, you must have the kiss. Who should be waiting there but the landlord's black-eyed daughter? Best the landlord's daughter pleading a dark red love knot into a long black hair? Good adventure. Today I've brought you the highwayman. Next week I will tell you a dramatic and colorful story of New York. It happened in Grammarcy Square. Until then, I am dangerously yours. Shores by Gene Holloway. The music was composed and conducted by Arnold Johnson. The stars were Victor Jory and Gertrude Warner.