 From Hollywood, the NBC Theatre presents... The NBC Theatre presents the Screen Directors Guild production of A Chronicle of Fear. Paramount's Night has a Thousand Eyes, with its original team of Screen Director John Farrell, Screen Star Edward G. Robinson, and William Demers. A Chronicle and artistic skills are the everyday instruments of the motion picture director. The very heart of his craft is fashioned from another sort of knowledge. The knowledge of the world in which he lives. And that can be gained only by living a life rich in experience. Such is the background of tonight's guest on the NBC Theatre. An native Australian, he has been a seaman, soldier of fortune, adventurer at large, and has made an enduring mark as a scholarly writer of fiction and non-fiction. Here then is the director of many famous Paramount films such as Wake Island, Two Years Before the Mask, The Big Clock, The Soon-To-Be-Released Alias Nick Beale, and tonight's story, Night has a Thousand Eyes. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. John Farrell. Night has a Thousand Eyes is a story of the supernatural, but it is not a flight of fancy. Counterparts of the strange phenomena in tonight's story have been the subject of recent scientific study by some of our universities. Thus, through the medium of film and now through the radio, we attempt to reveal a bizarre and a rather terrifying aspect of the strange, strange world in which we live. Now for the first time on the air, here is Night has a Thousand Eyes, starring Edward G. Robinson as John Triton with William Demarest as Lieutenant Sean. In the drawing room of a fine suburban home, a young man named Carson reads a strange manuscript, while the company listens gravely and silently. My dear Carson, as you read this manuscript, I will be dead. No one is to blame. My death was as certain as all the other strange events I foresaw. Some of you who have seen me die will doubt this story, and dismiss it as a series of contrived events and coincidences. Carson and some of the others will know that there are things on earth still hidden from us, still secret and unfathomable. I suppose most men can look back and see the exact point where Destiny touched them. My destiny came upon me on the moon. I was billed as Triton, the mental wizard. Like most mind-reading acts, it was a phony, but a first-class phony. Jenny, my lovely fiance, had collected all the questions from the audience, and my good friend Whitney Cortland was ready for his part at the piano. Now, ladies and gentlemen, from where I stand, I shall endeavor to read the questions that you have written and which are now unopened, mind you, in that glass bowl. Now, if I may have a little quiet music, Mr. Cortland. Let me see. I sense a name. A lady's name. Brian. No buyer. That's it, buyers. Clara Buyers. Ms. Buyers asked a question. She wishes to know. She... Something's wrong. There are disruptive impulses coming from the audience. A woman in a white dress, a little boy. Madam, you there in the third row. Your little boy is in great danger. You must go home at once. At once! Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, we'll continue where we left off. If I may have some quiet music, Mr. Cortland, the incident disturbed me. But then I forgot about it entirely until late that night when the telephone rang in my room. It was the woman calling to tell me that she had come home to find the boy's room in flames. She had arrived just in time to save the child's life. And I was worried, deeply worried, although not yet frightened. There were other incidents. One of them brought on by Cortney's usual concern about our economic situation. Well, kids, it's the same old story. Broke again. We could stand a little ready cash. Matter of fact, I'm going to put our last ten spot on ready cash. In the fifth, the green meadows. Ready cash? No, no, and not ready cash. He'll fall and have to be destroyed. Pergant! Pergant by two lengths! Ready cash fell and had to be destroyed. Pergant, one by two lengths. It occurred to me that we might make fortunes this way. I didn't want to. It scared me. I began having a crazy feeling that by telling them I was making the things come true. I began to wonder what anything would have happened if I had kept quiet. And then one dismal rainy day I had my chance to find out. I was coming out of the theater. A little boy recognized me and asked me for an autograph. And then he turned to skip away. Wait, son! I'd had a vision of a car skidding on me, slick pavement, a wild cry. And then I thought, no, perhaps if I keep it to myself, it won't happen. Uh-uh, nothing, son. Just run along. Now, run along. He went. A moment later, for the boy's death, I knew I could foresee these events, but I was powerless to prevent their coming true. Look, Johnny, I just met a big oil man down in the lobby who wants us to come in on this Comanche Hills oil field. So what? You think a hunch on a sporting proposition like that might make us a lot of money? Oh, no, no, it's no good, Court. We're washed up on hunches. Why, Johnny? Well, because I'm scared, Jenny, plain scared. I haven't had a very good feeling about it myself, Johnny. Well, all right. We'd better get down to the theater then and earn it the hard way. Curtain in 20 minutes. Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will all please concentrate on the seal questions you have addressed me, please. A little quiet music, Mr. Courtland. I'm concentrating on a particular envelope. A young lady's handwriting. She, the young lady. The lady I... I looked at Jenny, stared at Jenny, so beautiful, so fragile and desirable and so much to me. I saw her and something else. Johnny. Bring down the curtain. Johnny, what's the matter? What night shall you bring down the curtain? Are you sure you feel better now, Johnny? Oh, sure, Jenny. I just felt a little dizzy out there. You sure had us worried there for a while. Oh, Court. Yeah? Had a sort of a minor hunch about that Comanche Hill's oil proposition. Be one of the richest oil pools in the country. Make us all rich. Wonderful, wonderful. Thank you, Johnny. Well, let's go out and eat. No, you and Jenny go ahead. I'll join you later. It was the wrong decision. But I went away. What I'd seen that night on the stage had been Jenny's death. If I stayed, we'd be married and there'd be a child. A child would live, but Jenny wouldn't. I had to go away to save Jenny's life and save my own sanity. I knew Courtland would take care of Jenny and Comanche Hill's oil would take care of both of them. Yes, but I knew I had to get away from people, especially the people I loved. I went away. A year later, I heard that Jenny had married Courtland. She died when her daughter Jean was born. I read about it in Variety. For 20 years, I lived almost a hermit's life and no more visions. This gift or the curse seemed to wither from this use. And then after 20 years, on the night of Jean's debut, I stood outside in the crowd and I watched her go inside a fine hotel holding tight to Court's arm. Jenny's daughter was lovely. And I was proud. I watched them disappear inside. And then after 20 years of peace, it happened for a moment. I saw the image of wreckage, the smoking wreckage of an airplane. And then it was gone. What did it mean this time? And I forgot about it completely for three months and one day in my shop, I turned on a small radio. I just prepared. From LaGuardia Airport, I smashed the east-west transcontinental record. He and his pilot, former Army flyer Richard Simpson... No! I was born Jean. I'm sorry to force my way in here, but I have an extremely important message for your father. I'm sorry, but my father isn't here now. I'll see you here, old man. I'm Miss Courtland's fiance. Miss Courtland... You've got to reach your father when he lands on which you're taught to refuel. But why? Missed halt the flight. Halt the flight? That's absurd. Why should father give up his flight? If he doesn't, this plane will crash. How do you know that? Miss Courtland, please! You're wasting precious time. All right, I'll call. But I'll ask you a lot of questions afterwards. Kansas Airport, I haven't the number. Do you make a practice of predicting plane crashes? No, no. I'll wait, thank you. Maybe just the planes of very rich men. Please! Perhaps you're betting that he doesn't beat the record. A few minutes later, in an hour the extras were on the street. The Comanche Angel had crashed in Kansas. Both men were dead. Give me over these past few days, Mr. Triton. I'm so grateful. Your father was my best friend. But if you'd only warned us sooner, if you'd only known sooner... I don't think it would have made any difference. Mr. Triton, what's wrong? You have a new maid. Well, yes, why? You have a Nemero bracelet. Yes. Get rid of the maid before the bracelet. Before... What? Please, tell me. Jean, it doesn't matter now. Why doesn't it matter? You mean not to me. You mean I won't need the bracelet. You... You mean I'm going to die, too? Soon? When? Before the end of the week. At night. Under the stars. Jean. The NBC Theatre is presenting the Screen Directors Guild production of Night Has a Thousand Eyes, starring Edward G. Robinson with William Demeris and introducing the director of the film, John Farrow. You remember, Carson, you went to the police. They told you, yes, there had been a John Triton mental wizard who pretended to be able to predict things back in the 20s. They sent a certain detective lieutenant, Sean, to investigate me when I was staying in Jean's house. My first interview with Sean in my little room under the eaves, far from reassure the good lieutenant, for even as I answered his bitter questions, that they lifted again. And I saw. I saw. Hey, Triton, come out of it. Hey, I... I see a flower. Ah, drop it, Triton. Cut. A flower, crushed and broken. I hear a sudden wind shaking the windows. I hear a voice saying, there's no danger now. And I see her. Oh, Jean. Lying under the stars. And beside her, the paws and talons of a lion under the stars. Did you find out what time this happens to Miss Cortland? Tonight. It was the clock strikes 11. Lieutenant Sean was all for arresting me at once. The rest of you were tolerantly skeptical, which saved me for a while. Downstairs with Jean and you, Carson were two gentlemen of Mr. Gilman. Mr. Gilman, president of Midtide Oil. Good evening, Mr. Triton. And Mr. Meyers, attorney for Cortland's estate. How do you do, Mr. Triton? Together we sat down for the next two hours, our lives were geared to the relentless machinery of the grandfather's clock that ticked away any of the curtain darts where he... Frankly, I think this is ridiculous. Sinking around like this when we should be looking for a packet of missing options? I'm sure I'll find them, Mr. Meyers. They'll be worth us in 36 hours. You sure you can't remember where your father put those options? Please, Mr. Gilman, I'm much too upset. Well, the Midtide merger can't go through without them. I suggest Jean be permitted to forget about big business and concentrate on the clock, Mr. Carson. Shut up, Triton. One down. And one more hour to go. And so far, nothing has materialized in your weird chain of events. A crushed flower indeed, a lion, a sudden wind. Anyone interested in the 10 o'clock news? Yeah. Personally, I'm interested in the 11 o'clock news. Which was upset in a collision tonight at Wilshire and Zabulvada. The lion escaped when a trailer came around to turn that off. Lion? Lock the doors. Lock the windows. Put out some lights. I'll lock up and go through the whole house. Thanks, Gilman. Well, there's the lion. We have heard wind. We've seen a crushed flower. Don't say it. Hey, those carnations in that vase. Get them out. Carnations? Get them out. I don't believe any of this, but I'm taking no chances. Stand back. Don't anybody move. That was a close one. Mr. Myers, there's something sticking out under your foot. Something crushed and broken. That does it, Triton. No, not quite. Nothing final can happen until 11 o'clock. And it ain't going to happen because you're around. I'm taking you downtown until after 11. All right, Lieutenant. We won't do any good. I'll be back at 11. Stand still, Triton. Relax. Yes, but I tell you, Sean, if you let me return to the jeans house, there's a chance I can use this power of mine to save her. You put on a good show, Triton. Only I ain't buying. Now, listen. You've a man on the cell here. His name is Amos Block. I see him in a cell now, a suicide. You don't say. Well, there's one I can check on. Hello, Quinn? Sean, how's Block doing? Uh-huh. Thanks. In his cell playing solitude. Well, nevertheless, I see him in a... Now I'm going to leave you with the boys here and go back to Miss Courtland's. Be good, huh? 15 minutes to Jean. Yes. Yeah, everything is under control, I said. Very copicetic. Close that French window. Close it. I'll close it, Lieutenant. I thought Gilman took care of that. That does it all right. Sudden wind. Yeah, I'll get it. Yeah? Oh, yeah, Quinn. No. Amos Block hung himself in his cell, but he can't do that. That's suicide. Hey, look, I want Triton here before it strikes 11. I don't care how, but get him here. What time is it? Uh, 10.47. Oh, Lord, you've made the night too long. Just one more minute to go, darling. 45 seconds. Oh, Mr. Myers. Well, folks, you can get the lamb. They just killed it over at Besson Hospital. Oh, thank goodness. This is it. 11 o'clock. Elliott. Yeah? Back the back with me. Miss Courtland, get between us. Don't anybody move. I'll shoot the man who does. 9, 11. That's it, folks. It's all over. Nothing's happened. Elliott, darling. It's all history now, dear. Forget it. Elliott. I'm going outside. I'll go with you. No. I want to get used to standing out under the stars again. Alone. And not being afraid. Thank you, dear. Thank you so much, all of you. I'll say this for Triton. He sure called his shots, except that boy saying, there's no danger now. You just said it. Yeah, but it's too late now. It doesn't mean anything. Ain't it? Come in, Professor. Come in. Where is she? Where's Miss Courtland? Outside. You let her go outside? It's after 11. No, it's not. Look at that clock. That clock is wrong. It was, right? Well, then it's been tampered with. I've got to go to her. Stop. Triton, haul her out. Shoot. It's too late for that after him. No danger now. 11 o'clock. And a voice saying, there's no danger. He must have met you. No, you don't. Gilman, let go of her. Let go of her, you fool. There he is, Sean. Plug them. But good. Jeanne, you all right. It's all right, Jeanne. You're safe now. Triton's dead. Triton? Dead? But it was Gilman who tried to kill me. Gilman. He didn't want those options found. But I didn't think he'd resort to murder. Oh, poor Mr. Gilman. He died to save me. But are you all right? My throat hurts. Mr. Triton. He's resting against the foot of that marble lion. Marble lion, of course. And that Carson ends this dark diary. I foresaw everything. Even my own death. And tonight at headquarters I finish this diary. I left it in my pocket for you to find. Only time that the expanding wisdom of mankind will confirm the story in years to come. But there are reaches of the mind still unbrained of. And there are many mysteries of time and space and spirit to be shown to us. The stars look down. The night has a thousand eyes to search the soul of man and see if he's equal to his fathomless tomorrows. Where there are yet more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy. In a moment we'll return with our stars. Next week the NBC theater brings you another first in radio. A full hour production of director Billy Wilder's great Paramount film comedy A Foreign Affair starring in this hour-long drama will be Rosalind Russell, Marlena Dietrich and John Lund. And now here again are tonight's stars Edward G. Robinson and William Demerist and screen director John Farrell. John, it's been great fun for Bill and me slipping back into character for our part tonight has a thousand eyes. Well, I just hope Bill here doesn't start having one of his visions again. What you mean, uh, cool, solid, Bill Demerist isn't tuned with the supernatural? He thought he was. No, no, wait a minute. I know what you're talking about. And I really did have a vision. Yes. I was standing talking to Johnny on the set and suddenly I knew one of the camera booms was swinging around behind us. What happened? He yelled, Johnny, fall on your face. What, did you get hurt? My nose was almost broken. By the camera boom? No, by falling on my face. Oh. There wasn't a camera within 50 yards. Well, I had a vision. We don't have to be visionaries, John. They know that your direction inspired Bill and myself and everyone else connected with the picture. You did a great job. Check, Eddie, that goes for me too. Thanks very much. But suddenly I seem to be getting a vision myself. What do you say? I say it's being cut off the air if we don't say good night. Good night, everyone. Good night, Paul. And good night to you, Edward G. Robinson, William Demerist and John Farrell. Night Has a Thousand Eyes was adapted by Milton Geiger from an original story by Cornel Walry. Music was by Henry Russell. Production was supervised by Howard Wally, associate producer Bill Carr. Your announcer has been Frank Barton. Night Has a Thousand Eyes was presented through the courtesy of Paramount Pictures, currently releasing My One True Love starring Phyllis Calvert, Melvin Douglas, and Wanda Hendricks. Edward G. Robinson is currently making the 20th Century Fox production, The House of Strangers. William Demerist may be seen in Paramount's This and again next week for the NBC Theatre's full-hour presentation of Screen Directors Guild Assignment Production of Foreign Affair Director Billy Wilder, Stars, Rosalind Russell, Marlena Dietrich, John Lund The Screen Directors Guild Program came to you from Hollywood. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company.