 Suspense, and in black, here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense. If you have been with us on these Tuesday nights, you will know that suspense is compounded of mystery and suspicion and dangerous adventure. In this series our tales calculated to intrigue you, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation, and then withhold a solution until the last possible moment. And so with five canaries in the room, and the performances of owner Munson as Anita, Osamassna C.P., and with Lee Bowman as Ronald Denham, who tells the story, we again hope to keep you in suspense. The trouble was, you see, that a whole apartment vanished. It's true. A flat disappeared straight out of that apartment house, and the dead man disappeared with it. No, I'm not crazy. And in spite of what they said, I hadn't taken too many drinks. You see, I was getting married to Anita in another two weeks, and Jimmy Westlake gave a bachelor party for me, or hang it, it's a situation that might have happened to you. The party was at the old Cap and Bells Club on Lower Fifth Avenue, and it wasn't a brawl. Jimmy Westlake was in the chair, I admit, but nothing could have been more quiet, more dignified. Oh, man, this is a solemn occasion. Those dopes over there will kindly get away from the panel and sit down at the table. I have another toast to propose. Excuse me, Mr. Westlake, excuse me, please. Yes, Uncle Cato, what is it? Excuse me, Mr. Westlake, but you ain't got embusted glasses on this tall fish. Why shouldn't we bust the glasses, Uncle Cato? Why shouldn't we bust the glasses? Oh, but Mr. Westlake, if you keep on busting the glasses, there ain't gonna be no glasses left. Well, that's sad eventuality, Uncle Cato. We will simply start busting the plates. Isn't that fair enough, boys? Oh, look, Jimmy, don't you think you better tone the gang down a little? Be quiet, Ron, you're only the group. Yeah, I know, Jimmy, but... I know this, but the protesting voice you just heard was that of our guest of honor, Ronald Denham. Now we all know Ron, and we all like him. I'm sorry to say he is not himself. Where now is the terror of nightclubs, the chorus girl's friend? I say it to his face. He is sober. But we like him just the same. Friends, guests, and bachelors, I give you the groove. Gentlemen, don't bust the glasses. Hey, come on, Ron, come on, say a few words. Look, boys, I thank you for all the good words, and I don't want to be a wet blanket on the party, but it's nearly midnight, and I've got to get home early. Don't you understand, boys, I'm a reformed character. How's Fifi Latour? I haven't seen Fifi for over a year. She doesn't mean anything to me anymore. He thinks he does protest too much. Now, look, I'm marrying the sweetest girl in the world, but Anita's a little straight-laced. You know how it is. What's more, there's my Uncle Rufus. Anita and Uncle Rufus have apartments in the same building as I have. What's more, they're on the same floor, and that's not all. Tom Evans, the fellow I share my flat with. Wait a minute, where is Tom Evans tonight? What's the matter with him? Tom works for Uncle Rufus, and he doesn't drink. Oh, he works for Uncle Rufus. Hey, fellas, fellas. Quiet, you baboons! Quiet! Now, wait a minute. Will you put yourselves in my place? My girl and my uncle and my best friend, Tom Evans, are all expecting me to come home from this party in an ash cart. And I'm gonna fool him. And I have a heart, can't you? Uncle Rufus must be a pretty tough egg, isn't he? Oh, he's all right, but after his first million dollars, it went to his head. Has he got any human weaknesses? Yes, he keeps canaries. Oh, no, not the kind of canaries you're thinking. I mean, the kind that go tweet-tweet in cages. Oh, what's the use? What do you say, gentlemen? Shall we allow this pure-in-heart to wind his way home? He's got a drink for the bride, though. That's right, Ron. Can you, as a chivalrous gentleman, refuse to drink to the bride? You can't, and you know you can't. Uncle Cato. Yes, sir, Mr. Westlake. Get a beer mug from the sideboard there. Fill it with champagne. Oh, now, wait a minute, Jim! One more drink won't hurt you, surely. Just one little drink? Well, no, I suppose not. Fill it up, Uncle Cato. All right, I'll have one more drink, just in honor of the occasion. But that's all, you understand? That's absolutely all. 098 Park Avenue. Hey, hey, hey, Mr. Mr. Come on, wake up. What's wrong? You're home, Mr. This is the apartment house. Oh, yeah. Yes, of course. Come on. There we go. Easy now. Are you sure you're all right? Yeah, yes, I'm all right. I have been to a bachelor party. Yeah, sure, I know. We'll take it easy now. I can't see street. The whole street's going around. The funny part is I only had a couple of drinks. They must have put something in that last one. Well, it's none of my business, Mr. But I wouldn't tell that to the Mrs. if I was you. That's absolutely true. Sure, sure, I know. And I haven't got a Mrs. Not yet. My word of honor, I'm a reformed character. I have nothing to do with any woman except... Ronald Danum. As I live and breathe, it is Ronald Danum. Fifi Latour. Oh, sure, Rui, how good it is to see you. I look everywhere for you. I cry my eyes out, but I don't find you. What are you doing here? I live here, Fifi. I moved. Oh, you try to get away from me, yes? Yes. No, no, I mean... Here's your money, driver. Good night. Good night, sir. It's for yours, lady. You better take care of him. I'd take care of him. Yes, you bet you. My poor one. I forgive you this time because you've been on the wrestle-dassle and you need someone to take care of you. You live in this building, yes? Yes. Fifth floor, I... Oh, good. I take you to your apartment. No. No, no. You say no, and why not? Because you mustn't go in there. Oh. You're now a woman. What? Oh, yes? Well, yes. The fact is, Fifi, I'm going to get married. Married? For heaven's sake, Fifi, don't make a scene in the middle of the street. Oh, you break my heart, eh? Right in the middle of Park Avenue, you take my heart and you break it bang bang. Fifi, please. No, I tell you what you do. You will take me to your apartment these very minutes. No, definitely no. You will give me one cigarette and one brandy. You will tell me what this means. Oh, I warn you by golly, I start screaming so they can hear me at city hall. Don't do it, Fifi. All right. Then I start screaming. No, wait a minute. Oh, of all the times in the world you had to pick this. Do I go along, Fifi? Yes or no? Well, if I do take you, Fifi, will you promise to be good? Fifi, I am always good. You won't kick up a row or start banging at doors. Oh, if Anita heard of this. Anita? And who's she? Oh, never mind. I'm too groggy to argue. Come on. I remember going into that building. Dim religious light, deep carpets, an automatic elevator that you work yourself. I remember stepping into that elevator because the floor creaked. I remember pressing the button for the fifth floor. I took Fifi with me and I took her into what the champagne told me was my own flat. Maybe you think that's funny, but it won't be funny much longer. Either the door of the flat was unlocked or my key fitted it. Anyway, I remember stumbling through the little hall inside, getting a light on and into the living room. I remember sitting back in an easy chair thanking the Lord I was home. And if I take my coat off, Shari? Look, Fifi, couldn't you just go home? I want to talk to you, Shari. And this is one very nice flat. I like it. Thanks a lot. You and Tom Evans, you have good taste in furniture. We didn't choose the furniture, Fifi. This girl of yours choose it, I suppose? No, it comes with the flat. Oh, you mean? Well, these are furnished flats. They're all furnished exactly alike except for the personal things you bring yourself. I've got picture on the wall behind me. What picture, Shari? The painting of the clippership over there. But, Shari, your eyes are funny and you cannot see straight. There's no picture on that wall. Wait a minute. What's wrong? Why you jump up? We don't own any bronze bookends. And the lampshades are different. And Fifi, we're in the wrong flat. Oh, well, then that explains everything. Explains what? It explains about the canary birds. What canary birds? When we first come in here, I think I hear a lot of birds sing. And I think, ooh, la la, this is a funny taste for one denim and Tom Evans. But then... Uncle Rufus. Great Scott. Uncle Rufus. This uncle of yours, he keep canary birds? Yes, five of them, but this isn't his flat. I know his flat as well as I know my own. Where'd you hear this singing? Behind that door over there, where I point. That ought to be the door to the dining room. But... What was that? Oh, it is a car backfire. Maybe yes. Maybe no, unless they keep cars in dining rooms. That was a gun. It came from the dining room. Yeah, I think so. Quick, let's get out of here. Oh, no, we don't. I've been pushed around the night till I'm good and mad and I'm just about crazy enough to find out what this is all about. You're not going to open that door. You just watch me. There's a light in that room anyway. How you know? Look under the sill of the door. Not a very bright light, but... Rond, don't do it. Stand back now, or I get the door open. Dining room. Not Uncle Rufus. Five canary birds. Five canaries, in cages, all in a line. Where in Satan's name are we? Oh, sure, I don't know. Whose flat is this? Who, except Uncle Rufus, would keep five canaries? I tell you one thing though, and then I go out of here. Well? There's somebody watching us. Where? That swing door to the kitchen is partly open. But don't look. Oh, the devil, can I see it if I don't look? There's somebody standing behind it. I see the light shine on his eye. Quiet, Fifi. Hello there. Hello there. The door moved a little more. He's pushing it. Oh, excuse me, sir. We didn't mean to barge in here. We're not burglars or anything like that. We got into the wrong flat, that's all. I want to apologize if we... Through the door, back on his face. What's the matter with him? Why don't he move? I've got an idea, Fifi. It's because he's dead. He was a little fat man with eyeglasses and a spade-shaped beard. He looked foreign somehow. And there was a bullet hole over his heart. You ask me what happened then? I don't know. Fifi turned and ran, at least I think she did. I bent over the man to make sure he was dead. And then something hit me. Though it hadn't been enough of a nightmare already, I could hear that blackjack strike the back of my skull. And everything exploded. I couldn't get my breath. And I seemed to be swimming in dark water. The next voice I heard wasn't Fifi's at all. It was Anita's. Oh, my head. Oh, Lord, my head. Well, I'm not at all surprised. What's that, Anita? I can't hear you. I said I'm not at all surprised. Of all the disgraceful disillusioned objects I ever saw. Anita, where am I? Oh, darling, as though you didn't know. But I don't know. My head feels like a printing press in full blast. Well, you're out in the main hall, dear, on the fifth floor, sitting on the stairs beside the elevator shaft. That's true. But how did I get here? Oh, now really wrong. I must have been carried here. That's it. You're drunk and friends at the club? Well, I don't doubt it in the least. No, Anita, no, you don't understand. I left that party early. I was cold sober. But the low hounds wanted to see me come home in bad shape. So they could, so they put something in my glass. Oh, naturally wrong. Whiskey or champagne? Oh, no, Anita, I mean a drug of some kind. I was dizzy when I got here. Just as I was getting out of the taxi, I met... Well, go on, dear. Whom did you meet? Nobody, Anita. Nobody at all. I came up here to what I thought was my own flat, but it wasn't my flat. It was somebody else's. There were a lot of canaries singing and a dead man with a bullet hole in his chest. And... Well, this sounds pretty crazy, doesn't it? Yes, dear, it certainly does. But it's true. Oh, Ron, I suppose I've got to forgive you. I always do forgive you. Why don't you come along like a good boy and sleep it off? Listen, Anita, there's a dead man in one of these flats. A dead man? In which flat? Well, that's just dead. I don't know. You're not saying it's on this floor? Yes, I definitely remember pressing the button for the fifth floor. Suppose you listen to me, dear. Now, don't make faces and rumple your hair. Just listen. There are only two other apartments on this floor. One is your uncle. It wasn't his. I'll swear to that. You don't think I'm hiding a dead man? No, it wasn't your flat either. Then where is it, darling? A whole flat can't vanish and take the dead man along, can it? No. But I'll tell you something else, Anita. I've seen that man's face somewhere before. Whose face? The dead man's. Thick eyeglasses, square black beard, something foreign about it. I've seen him or I've seen his picture or... Oh, Ron, please. What's wrong? We see the elevator. Somebody's coming up. Don't let people see you. Your hat smashed in and your tie's untied. You look like nothing on earth. Look here, Anita. If it comes to that, what are you doing out in the hall in negligee and pajamas? I wanted to make sure you got home safely. Ron, the elevator, it's Tom Evans and your uncle Rufus. All right, I can take it. But your uncle can't. Now, don't say anything to him about this dead man. Promise me. Hold on. I've got it. Pierre Duroc. Who? Pierre Duroc. That's the dead man's name. In this year of 1938, the prospect of a European war is so remote as not to be worth serious consideration. Excuse me, sir, but isn't that a little strong? Now, don't argue with me, Evans. No, sir. You may turn my secretary to... Who care? What's this? Well, now look, Uncle Rufus. Oh, I can't stand any more of this. I'm fed up. Well, I don't blame you, my dear. Isn't it if you mind been annoying you again? No, of course not. Please don't pay any attention to him. He's... He's drunk. For the last time, I am not drunk. I just want to ask Uncle Rufus before I go completely nuts whether he hasn't heard of Pierre Duroc. What's that, Ronald? What'd you say? Pierre Duroc, the French millionaire. Well, what about him? He's the man who always deals in cash on the line. Spot cash, even if it's a million. I saw his picture in the paper. He's in New York to put through a business deal with you, isn't he? Oh, indeed, Ronald. You show a commendable interest in my affairs. That's what you want me to do, isn't it? I believe Duroc does want to buy some property I own, but he hasn't approached me and I haven't approached him. It's a bad business. Why have you developed this sudden interest in Duroc? Because he's dead. Dead? Somebody shot him in a room full of canaries and then slugged me over the head. Do you believe me, Evans? If your uncle will excuse me, old man, I don't see any reason not to believe you. Where's the body? Well, that's the trouble. Ron claims he found it in a flat that doesn't exist. Listen, what's that? It's something like somebody running upstairs in a devil of a hurry. Maybe it's the dead man. As a matter of fact, it's the night porter. He's the one who can tell us. Tell us what? Well, maybe I did get off at a different floor, but that flat's got to be somewhere in this building. Pearson! Just a minute. Pearson! I'm very sorry, sir. I can't stop now. Please stand aside. I've got to go upstairs and get the manager. Why, Pearson, is anything wrong? Well, Mr. Evans... Speak up, man. Is anything wrong? It's the police, sir. We found a dead man in the palm garden downstairs. Now do you believe me? You will oblige me, all of you, if you remain quiet and allow me to deal with this. What does this man look like, Pearson? He's a foreign-looking gentleman, sir. Never saw him before. He doesn't live in the building. Well, then how did he get to the palm garden? Well, sir, that's what we don't know. He certainly wasn't there when I looked in half an hour ago, but I went back to the palm garden just by chance. And there he was in a wicker chair with the singing birds and cages all around him. Birds again. Oh, be quiet, Ronald. He'd been shot, sir. The police think he was brought down in the service elevator from somewhere upstairs. Why do they think that? Well, of course, they found a revolver in that elevator and a little paper band of the kind that goes around banknotes. If they could tell where the dead man came from... You can tell us where he came from. Huh? I can, sir. Yes, you've been in most of the flats in this building, haven't you? I've been inside all of them, sir. Why? Well, would you recognize any given flat if I described it? Well, yes, sir, certainly, but... Well, then for the love of Mike, think. Who lives in a flat with five canary cages in the dining room? Ronald, are you out of your mind? In case you don't happen to remember, you're describing my place. No, it was like your place, but it wasn't at all the same. Oriental prints on the walls. In the living room, bronze bookends and bronze lamps. Dragon patterns on the lampshades. There was a queer kind of clock on the mantelpiece shaped like a figure of father time. And what's the matter with you, Pearson? Nothing, sir, but you're sure you saw all that? Yes, of course I'm sure. Why not? Because I'm sorry, sir, but you couldn't have seen it. What do you mean I couldn't have seen it? I did see it. Who lives in the blasted place? Nobody. Well, you mean the flat's vacant? No, sir. I mean there's no such flat in the whole building. And that's the position I was in when the police took us down to that palm garden to see the body. I never did like the palm garden much. It's a big dimly lighted hollow of a place. The bird cages beside the palms are an artificial goldfish pond in the middle. I liked it even less at three o'clock in the morning with a dead man looking at me from his chair. They sent us in one at a time. I was first to see the homicide squad officer. And there was Inspector Braddock, a big sleepy-looking hulk with a hat like a pirate, sitting on a bench throwing pebbles at that pond. Back would go his arm and a pebble would hit the water. Back would go his arm and a pebble would hit the water. And that's all you got to tell me, Mr. Dunham? That's all, Inspector. It happens to be true. Oh, I believe you. After all, son, we've got corroboration. Corroboration from whom? From your other girlfriend, Fifi Latour. Fifi's not here. She ran out of here as soon as Durak's body fell through that door. Yes, but she didn't run far. A cop wondered why she was running and brought her back. Where's Fifi now? In that room there, talking to your official girlfriend. Oh, that's fine. That's beautiful. The one thing I didn't tell Anita. Why don't you wake up? This isn't post office any longer. It's murder. And one of that gang out there shot Pierre Durak. Are you serious? Serious. Sure, I'm serious. This is as clever and slick and mean a trick as everyone on the blotter. Pierre Durak was one of the goats, you or the other. This uncle of yours is a fairly important guy, isn't he? Wait a minute. Just exactly what are you saying about the old boy? I'm saying he gets lots of publicity. This hobby of his keeping dicky birds must be pretty well known. Yes, I suppose so. All right, so if Durak came to visit your uncle tonight... You say if Durak came to visit my uncle? What you're forgetting, son, is that Durak's an important man too. He's a visiting foreigner, capital letters, and the department's got to keep an eye on him. Durak did go to visit your uncle tonight, and he was carrying $20,000 in cash. What are you animating? Murder. Mr. Braddock. Yes, Sergeant? That crowd out there is raising cane, especially the old man and the French gal. Shall I let him in? Yeah, you can let him in now. More than an hour of sitting in an anti-room without even hearing why we're here. I tell you, Evans is intolerable. It's all right, sir. They probably know what they're doing. You think so, my friend, but I still don't know why I'm here. How very interesting, Miss Latour. Such extreme absent-mindedness. Well, perhaps wrong to tell you why you're here. Oh, listen, Anita, I can explain everything. Can you explain the disappearing apartment? Well, that's better. I'd like, if you don't mind, to have a little quiet here. Now, which one of you is Mr. Rufus Denham? I am Rufus Denham, sir. Rufus Denham of Denham & Company. Can there be any doubt whatever about that? No, but I thought I'd ask. I was just telling you enough, you, Mr. Denham, that Pierre Duroc came here tonight to see you. To see me, Inspector? That's right. I can only characterize that statement, sir, as a flattened downright lie. I've never met that man. I didn't say you met him. I said he came here to see you. Duroc wanted to buy some property from you, didn't he? Well, I suppose he did. And Duroc always paid spot cash, didn't he? Yes, I believe so. Just one more question. I imagine you've got a secretary. Yes, naturally I've got a secretary. Miss Helen Gardner. What about her? Somebody posing as your secretary telephoned Duroc at the Metropolis Hotel and spoke to him in very good French. Well, Inspector, don't stop there. Go on. This person, pretending to represent Rufus Denham, asked Duroc to come here with the money and said they could settle the deal immediately. Don't you see the trick now? Don't you see Duroc was lured into a dummy apartment? A dummy apartment? What does this man mean? I'll tell you. All the flats are furnished exactly alike except for personal things, pictures, books, lampshades, ornaments. Is that correct? Yes, of course it is. The murderer didn't dare use Rufus Denham's real flat, but the murderer could always decorate an imitation flat so that Pierre Duroc would be deceived when he saw... Five canary birds. That's it, son. But what was the idea? A very neat swindle. Look at Duroc's body now. Oh, I can't look at it. Look at his thick glasses. Well, the man was half-blind. The so-called secretary disguised would meet Duroc in an imitation flat. Duroc would hand over the money and get forged title deeds in return. When Duroc had gone, the flat could be put right again and no evidence left. But something went wrong. That's right. Something went wrong. Duroc suspected. It had to be killed. Right again. Inspector Braddock, who is the murderer? Can't you guess? Oh, no. I think I know how it all happened. Do you, Mr. Tour? Oh, it's very smart of you. This poor Ronald of mine, he is at a bachelor party. They do not think that he will be home until daylight. But he gets reformed and come home early. He plunged us straight into that flat in time to interrupt. In time to interrupt a murder, yes. Afterwards, when you were supposed to run away... But I did run away. Sure, Mr. Tour. I'm admitting you did. Then why do you look at me as though I didn't? Afterwards, as I was saying, the murderer had to hit Ronald Denham over the head and drag him out in the hall. Duroc's body was brought down here along with the canary cages that had been borrowed from here. And the dummy flat was set right again. Just one moment, Inspector Radick. I'm not disputing anything you say, but... Well, sir, what's on your mind? The murderer. What about the murderer? Well, all this. Wouldn't it have been much too heavy a job for a woman? Who said the murderer was a woman? Well, didn't you? I don't think I did. I said the murderer was somebody who planned a swindle. And you still don't see it any of you because you can't find the dummy flat. No, and I can't find it myself. That's one question you've got to answer here and now. Where in Satan's name did I go? Whose flat was I in? Your own. What? My own. Naturally. If you'd been cold sober, you might have made a mistake. But your instinct brought you home to your own flat. And the only possible murderer is the man who shares that flat with you, the man who thought you'd be away until daylight, the man who knows enough about Denham's business affairs to plan this swindle against Duroc. Look out, Inspector Radick. Grabbing, Sergeant. Oh, okay. Thomas Evans, I arrest you for the murder of Pierre Duroc. Good Lord. Well, that's about all there is to the story. Anita and I were married last week. She's a wonderful girl. I tried to talk her into our staying on in my old flat, but she said she just had to have an apartment which didn't have such a habit of disappearing. But we're very happy. We agree about everything. Don't we, dear? Practically everything, darling. But I still don't think it was cute or feisty to send up three dozen canaries for a wedding party. And so close as five canaries in the room, starring Onamunson, Lee Bowman, and Osamasson, tonight's tale of suspense. This is your narrator, the man in black, who conveys to you Columbia's invitation to spend this half hour in suspense with us again next Tuesday when our suspense play will be last night by Cornel Woolrich, and will star more of your Hollywood favorites. The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear, who is head-blissed the director, Ludgluston and Lucian Morrowick, conductor and composer, and John Dixon Carr, the author, collaborated on tonight's suspense. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.