 obsession. In the dark fearsome days of 1939, when the British Empire stood at the threshold of total war with Germany, no mind could withstand the impact of impending disaster without seeking refuge in some escape. In a moment you will hear the strange story starring Ruth Ward, a story you'll remember for its weird implications of an OBSESSURE to Southampton, the swirling fog and mists seeping through cracks and crannies like the sulfurous vapors of something poisonous and evil, the strange glaring lights on the docks, illumining a casket being hoisted aboard a ship, a ship destined to sail this night into the shroud of darkness toward the west. A girl, Judith Webster, also destined to sail this ship into whatever port the fates may decree, but then let her tell her own story of her voyage through darkness, of an apprehension she could not escape, a complete and overwhelming obsession. It happened in 1939, shortly before England and Germany were at war. I was in London serving as traveling companion to Mrs. Edna Prescott, a wealthy, quite elderly American woman. She wasn't a pleasant person. The city's practice blackouts were a particular source of annoyance to her. I remember thinking how ironic it was that she should die during one of them. I even thought of the cause, till the doctors assured me that her death was due to a common heart with very busy the next few days, ranging passage to America, getting my train ticket down to Southampton and carrying out the promise I had made to Mrs. Prescott. I didn't relish any part of it. Mrs. Webster, oh yes, the young woman who's escorting the casket. Here's your ticket, take five. The young woman who's escorting the casket. He said it's a matter of fact. If such things occurred every day, I suppose they do. And yet, every minute on that train I felt uncomfortable, on edge. It seemed as if the trip to Southampton and the steamer docks would never end. I remember how glad I was when it did, and how cheerful the stewards' voice sounded as he greeted me at the head of the gangway. Evening, Miss. Welcome aboard. Might I show you to your cabin? Oh yes, please do, steward. I'm very tired. Oh, I'm in 12A, Deck B. 12A, Deck B. This way, Miss. As I followed the steward along the deck, down the companion ways, everything seemed all right again. I didn't even mind the weird cries of the newsboys and the steamer docks. They were shouting something about a blackout killer and how the London police were on his trail. A blackout killer? Oh, what a horrible thought. But the newspapers, horror stories. Oh, they belong to the shore. I was safe on the ship, about to sail. Here we are, Miss. You have it all to yourself this trip. Very nice quarters, too. Oh, thank you for it. Oh, here you are. Thank you, Miss. Good night. Good night. Call if you need anything. My cabin, perfectly safe, I realized how jittery I'd been. Oh, sir. Suddenly I began to laugh at myself. My fears had been so foolish. So foolish. I went up on deck. I no longer felt tired. I wanted to watch the light for the coastline fading away from it. I was standing near the after rail quietly, looking out across the water. Beautiful, isn't it? Oh, I'm sorry. I frighten you? Oh, yes. Yes, you did. I didn't realize there was anyone near that lifeboat. Oh, sure you saw me. I never would. It's all right, really. I've been nervous tonight anyway. I'm not usually so jumpy. What you need is an ocean boy. Yes. Yes, maybe that's it. Were you watching the shore light? Oh, yes, I was. Oh, I never did answer your question, did I? They are beautiful. Very. And the sea alone is beautiful. She has mood, you know, just like a woman, gentle sometimes and soothing. Then suddenly flying into a rage and dashing things to pieces. Then quieting right down again. That's right. I see we feel the same about her. Does she frighten you sometimes? The same way women frighten me. Oh. I mean when I don't understand them. I thought it was the general male consensus that we weren't supposed to be understood. Only love. Isn't that the rest of it? Something like that. Anyway, it's a philosophy I disagree with. How refreshing. Oh, the lady is immune. Not at all. It's just that the lady detects a bachelor. Because I have a mind of my own. That's one good clue. And what am I thinking of? I'm lecturing to you as if... Well, I believe that bit of frightness ends up as if I'd known you all my life. Now, wait a minute. There's another which makes it perfectly all right. It's that shipboard friendships last forever business. Yes, of course. However, my name is Alan Bruce. Yours? Judith Webster. Miss. Miss. Good. Well, we got through that. Quite nicely. You suppose we could get through a dance? There's music in the cello. Well, there's no longer any view of the shoreline. However, you did say the sea alone was beautiful. Oh, I was so wrong. There's nothing as monotonous as all that water. It is kind of flat. Let's trade it for champagne, shall we? Be with you in a minute. Oh, where are you going? Just over here. I want to do the skipper a little later. But what is it? I can... Oh, for the lifeboat cover. How do you suppose it got so loose? Oh, no. I noticed it a while back. There. That should do it. Strange. It was almost as if... Oh, no. What were you going to say? Leave it to me. I was going to get melodramatic and suggest that someone might have been hiding in there. You mean a stowaway? Yes. Of course, it's silly. I wouldn't say so. You're joking. Not at all. It's quite possible someone could have slipped on board and hid in that lightboat. That's why I think we shouldn't mention this to anyone. What? It would only cause an alarm to... But I don't understand. If you really think there might have been someone... Someone... I shall never forget that moment. The thoughts that went racing through my mind. My nervousness on the train. Those horrible headlines the newsboys were shouting from the pier. All in strange attitude about the lifeboat. The whole unpleasant nature of this voyage and my... My promise to Mrs. Prescott. I wanted to turn and run. I wanted to cry out, but somehow I couldn't. It was like a dream when you can't move. And then the darkness was swept away. I was no longer dreaming. I was in Alan's arms, dancing. So, and laughing, carefree people all around us. And the ship's alarm was so bright and friendly. I was ashamed of myself for even thinking there might have been anything wrong. Had enough? They just brought our champagne. Well, in that case, yes. I'd about given up. Oh, a fine way to talk about my dancing. You know perfectly well what I mean. All right, let her go to it. There we are, bubbling champagne. Gears life. Well, what should we toast to? Shipboard friendship? Yes, shipboard friendship. You know what? Oh, what is it? Something wrong? No, nothing at all. I just thought I saw someone. Will you excuse me a moment? Of course. I won't be long. Excuse me, Miss, but the gentleman, he dropped this billfold. Oh, thank you, Stuart. I didn't notice. Oh, just leave it there on the table, please. Very good, Miss. The billfold fell open when he placed it on the table. I couldn't take my eyes from it. There was an identification card in plain sight. The name on the card was not Alan Bruce. It was Charles. Sorry to run off that way. Didn't know the fellow at all. I'll say you haven't touched your champagne. You'll let all the kick go out of it. I'm afraid all the kick has gone out of it. Well, we'll soon take care of it. Oh, my billfold. Where did you find it? The Stuart picked it up. Stuart, well, we found an honest man. I have to remember him. Hadn't you better looked to see if you found an honest woman? I'll take a chance. On my honesty, yes. What about a woman's curiosity? Very good point. But you know, I'm sure you wouldn't tell anyone anything. No? No. I knew from the very first I could trust you, Julie. I knew I could trust you. Implicitly. Attention, everybody! The first officer has something to say to us. I'm sorry to break in on the dancing this way, but this won't take long. You received a wire from London, and I must ask your cooperation. Wire from London? I don't know. Something's happening. Well, maybe it will be June. You know, it isn't four. Nothing nearly as alarming as that. However, the London police suspect we're carrying a stowaway. They've asked us to search the ship and report back to them. Oh, eh? Must be a criminal of the police. Oh, they're blackout killers. They're dear killers. Oh, wait, please. If you please, it won't help to get excited. The ship's being set. You'll never get off. All we ask is that you keep your cabins locked. I was afraid this might happen. How long did you expect to keep it from them? Well, naturally, I was hoping they'd never. Judith? Judith, what's wrong? Where are you going? I say, sir. What's the matter with the lady? Is she ill or something? No, no. Please, let me pass for you. Of course, sir. I'm sorry, but she certainly did run off, didn't she? She almost acted as if you were the blooming killer. Killer hiding somewhere in the dark recesses of the ship, or is he hiding? In the mind of Judith Webster, certain pieces of the puzzle seem to fit into place. What was intuition now becomes apprehension, an apprehension that builds and spreads like a slow stain into that fragmentary realm of imagination, where deeply sink the twisted roots of obsession. In just a moment, we return to our story. Returning now to our journey through darkness, starring Ruth Warring, the Atlantic. A ship flies her way toward the haven of New York, but a ship on which lurks a nameless terror. There is a murderer on board, a killer not listed on the first issue. But in the mind of Judith Webster, there is a mounting suspicion of his identity. But strangely, she has little power to reveal the thoughts that are tucked away in the closet of her mind. For try as she may, she cannot dispel the forces of a powerful obsession. I'll never know why I left the dining cell alone without telling him. Certainly, there could no longer be any doubt. It was all too clear. That loose canvas covering in the lifeboat, the way he'd been standing there, even the name he had given me. Alan Bruce. I saw it later, the regular passenger there. He must have killed the real Alan Bruce and thrown him overboard. Taking not only his name, but his stank room and his clothes. But also, fantastic. Worse than anything else, I'd almost fallen in love with him. He knew that, I'm certain. That was why he was so confident that I wouldn't tell anyone. And I didn't. Not even when I spoke to the first officer about... about my promise to Mrs. Prescott. I'll arrange it for early tomorrow morning, ma'am. Most of the passengers will be asleep. Thank you. I suppose it's rather unusual that... that Mrs. Prescott was an unusual woman. I haven't conducted a burial at sea since the last war, ma'am. However, I'm not entirely unprepared. The company official spoke to me about this before sailing. Don't worry, Ms. Webster. The ceremony will be in order, ma'am. Thank you. Good day. I wish you hadn't done that. Oh, I'm sorry. I seem to have a habit of startling you. What do you want? How long have you been here? Long enough to overhear your conversation with the first officer. You had no right. Please. I know what you're going to say. I had no right to listen. However, it's fortunate I did. What do you mean? I didn't know Mrs. Prescott was to be buried at sea. No one knew it. It was her last wish. I promised her it would be carried out. Tomorrow morning, you're keeping that promise. Yes. Now, you'll excuse me. I don't feel very well. I'd like to... Wait. Please, Judith. You've been avoiding me, haven't you? Yes, I have. I hope it's only because you've been upset about Mrs. Prescott, I mean. That's one reason. Sorry. I almost thought we were beginning to become very good friends. You know, you're the only person on board I can trust. You're very sure about that, aren't you? Of course. You know who I am and what I'm doing on this ship. And yet you've told no one. I've wanted to. I know. Women were never meant to keep secrets. However, I'm going to ask you to keep one more. I'd rather not. Sorry. I must include you in this. You see, it requires a change in your plans, so they'll fit in with mine. I'm afraid I don't understand. It's very simple. Judith, this may upset you, but I must ask that you tell them you've changed your mind, that you don't want Mrs. Prescott buried at sea. What? You remember what they said. Even if they couldn't find the storeway, he'd never get off the ship. He could get off. Very easily. If you'd allow him to take Mrs. Prescott's place in that casket. Get the cat? Yes. Clever. Clever? Well, not every man would think of it. Simple as it may seem. Everyone's searching the ship, questioning each passenger. And all the while, the man they were seeking would be safe inside the casket. He'd have only to wait patiently until the ship docks, then be hoisted from the hold, lowered to the pier, and be taken away in a funeral car. When he was discovered by the funeral attendants? Oh, I'm sure they'd be so shocked that the dead coming to life, he'd have little trouble. Stop it. Stop it, you hear. If you haven't done a respect for the dead, I'm afraid I have. Oh, Mrs. Prescott, you mean. I should have told you that part of it. Her last wish has already been carried out. You see, her body was removed from the casket the night we sailed. Mrs. Prescott is already buried at sea. You thought of everything, haven't you? In my position, one must. I remained in my cabin all that day. The next, I was afraid to see him again. I can't explain the strange fascination he held over me. You remember how I surprised the first officer looked when I told him I'd changed my mind about the burial? Because as if he sensed the truth, as if he knew Mrs. Prescott's body wasn't in that casket, it was empty. It was only my imagination. My sense of guilt for this terrible wrong I was doing. When we sailed into New York Harbor, I went out on deck. He was standing here, near the Fort Ray. I went up to him. He turned and smiled, as if he'd been expecting me. Oh, there you are, Judith. I've missed you. I haven't been under the weather, have you? No, I've been perfectly well. You've had me worried not showing up for dinner. You know, I've come to depend on you. Yes, I know. I've decided not to let you get away from me. After this is all over with, Mr. You haven't much time. No. And this may not be easy. Wish me luck. Haven't I done more than that already? Yes, of course. Only, I mean, like this, Judith. Suddenly, as he had taken me in his arms, he released me. And I remained there by the rail. He hurried away. I watched as the ship moved on into the harbor, under the guidance of the tug boats. Their shrill, insisting little people. I listened to the shout to the crew, the long shaman. Soon we were alongside the pier. And the steward was shouting from the head of the gangway. And then, then I saw it. The casket. We were lowering it toward the pier. There was a car waiting, a long black car. Suddenly, I realized what I'd done. What a fool I'd been. What a cow I'd been. What a cowardly frightened little fool. Don't let them do it. Don't let them touch that casket. There's something wrong. What's the matter, you lady? Get out of the way, will you? Please, there's a man in there alive. He's hiding. Sure, sure, hide and go see what he's playing in a coffin. Come on, lady, we've got work to do. Climb those doors tight. Please, you must listen to me. If you want, I'll call the police. Someone has to stop you. Did I hear you call the police? Yes, please, these men won't listen to me. We put him in there, Judith. What did you say? I said we put him in there. Or rather, we let him walk right into our trap. Are you trying to tell me there's someone else in that casket? Well, surely you're not trying to say you thought I was in there. Who else? Who else? Why the killer, of course. The killer. The black killer. But then he's getting away. You're letting him get away. No, Judith. Those men know who's inside that casket. And they know right where to take him. They're detectives. You know, Judith, for someone who helped plan this entire thing, you're acting very strangely. I'm acting strangely. It's almost as if you didn't know who I am at all. But I... I don't. What? I said I don't know you. I still don't. But the night I dropped my bill folder, I thought surely... All I learned that night was your real name. Charles Drew. Would you mind telling me what's going on? It's all quite simple, Judith. I thought you'd learned of my affiliation with Scotland the odd when you had my bill folder. It's all this time you've been trailing the killer. You're right. We had a tip-off. He might be on the ship. When I discovered the loose lifeboat covering, I was certain of it. It's Alan Booster. He wasn't murdered at all. He never existed. You know, detectives never travel under their own names. It just isn't done. No. So everything has to be done the hard way. I suppose that's why you couldn't just find the killer and arrest him on board. No, hardly. You see, I couldn't find him. I'd searched the ship from top to bottom. I guess he really would have given me the slip if I hadn't looked in the casket. He was hiding there all the time? No, at that time. It was empty. I don't get it. Neither did I at first. I began to wonder why he would remove Mrs. Prescott's body from her casket unless it was part of some plan. And? I decided that it was a weird yet thoroughly clever plan. Remember, I told you, not every man would think of it. Yes, but you did say that. Patently until the ship docked. Then, at the last minute, slip into the casket. And be hoisted out of the hold on the pier and be taken away in a funeral car. Oh, it's fantastic. And you think I... Oh, darling, I nearly wrecked everything. I thought you were the killer. No wonder you afforded me. I was so darn mixed up. I thought I knew so much. That's my fault, darling. I overestimated you. That gives me too much. Were you? What was I saying? I underestimated you. I wasn't so mixed up after all. How do you mean? That gives, darling. That gives. You may not know it, dear, but in some ways you are a killer. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. And combined with a sharp knife of suspicion, it destroys all logic and clarity. But how odd it is that one obsession may quickly turn into another. That the killer looking somewhere in the shadows has now become a lover in the bright light of day. The stowaway that was one obsession is now Charles Drew, who will we hope forevermore remain in the mind of Judith Webster as an entirely different kind of obsession. In just a moment I'll be back with a preview of next week's story for a brief or next week's story. A story of a murder that took place only in a man's mind. A nameless dread from which there was no escape. Each moment of next week's thrill-packed story, starring Philip Terry, will hold you breathless in anticipation of the strange outcome when you listen to... Session! This story, starring Ruth Warwick, was produced and transcribed by C.P. McGregor in Hollywood.