 to a broadcasting system presents The Mysterious Traveller, written, produced, and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Colvin, and starring two of radio's foremost actors, Lawson's Erby and Frank Silvero in Hideout. This is The Mysterious Traveller, inviting you to join me on another journey into the realm of the strange and the terrifying. I hope you will enjoy the trip, and it will thrill you a little and cheer you a little. So settle back, get a good grip on your nerves, and be comfortable, if you can, as we follow the course of a strange friendship to a startling end. It's the story I call Hideout. A friendship that even murder could not destroy. The time is midnight. Somewhere nearby, a tower clock is striking the hour. In the shadows at the mouth of an alley in New York's east side, a boy is crouching, tense, frightened. Down the deserted street, approaches a man, stocky, powerfully built, expansively dressed. As he passes the mouth of the alley, the boy leaps out behind him. All right, mister, stick him up and don't move. Okay, okay, just take it easy, whoever you are. I never argue with a gun. You better not. Now give me a doll. Yeah, sure, sure. It's in my inside coat pocket. I'll get it out for you and make that stick me up, will you? I ought to plug it. Come on, stand up, let me see what you look like. Don't, don't shoot me up. I wasn't gonna hurt you, honest. Why, it's just a kid, a runt, and trying to hold up Big Ed Jansky himself. You got a lot of nerve, kid. What's your name? What do you care what my name is? Go on, call a cop. You? I said what's your name? It's Maxie. Maxie what? Just Maxie. Sometimes the kids call me ugly because I ain't so good looking, see? I'll say you ain't. Where you from, Maxie? Philly. Run away from home, huh? That's my business. You want another slap? Well, you try to become a stick up man, huh? What else can you do besides stick up? Well, I can drive any kind of car. I had a parking lot job once. I have a car, huh? Well, Maxie, I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I could turn you over to the cops, but I won't. I like your spirit, and I'm gonna give you a job instead. What kind of job? You'll be my chauffeur. Most people try to get good looking chauffeurs, but Big Ed Jansky's gonna have the ugliest one anybody ever saw. Gee, you... Do you really mean it, Mr. Jansky? Sure, I mean it. Now come on, you'll stay at my place tonight. You... You're not just kidding me, are you? Nah, I'm not kidding you. But don't ever forget this. You double-cross me and I'll break every bone in your body. You stick by me and you're my friend. And I look after my friends. Gee. Gee, Mr. Jansky. Now what are you sniveling for? Oh, it's because... Because except for my brother, I never had a friend before in my life. Mr. Jansky. So, Maxie, the kid from Philadelphia, became Big Ed Jansky's private chauffeur. He kept hoping Big Ed would let him be a full-fledged member of the mob. But Big Ed laughed, told him to wait a while. Until one night, when Maxie was driving Big Ed home from a late business conference. Hey, Maxie. Maxie. Yeah, what is it, Mr. Jansky? Slow down a little. Must be doing 70. No, I just... 68. I just forgot again that you don't like to go fast. 50's fast enough for anybody, except on a getaway. Oh, sure, Mr. Jansky. Gee, I wish you let me drive the getaway car sometime. I bet if I'd been on that hijack last week, Mike and Lil' Willie wouldn't have smashed themselves up dead. They sure are the cops shot out of tire. They can't do anything about that when you're hitting 80. Oh, you can if you know how, Mr. Ed. I guess I'm sort of dumb about other things, but I sure do know how to drive. Well, maybe someday I'll let you try your hand and... Hey, Maxie. Yeah, Mr. Ed? That black sedan. How long's it been following us? Oh, about 10 minutes, I guess. Yeah, I don't like it. Step on it, kid. You bet, Mr. Ed. Plenty lonely along here, and... Hey, they're pulling up on us. Step on it, will you, Maxie? Step on it. Gee, Mr. Ed, there's something wrong with the motor. I can't get more than 75 out of her. That's not good enough. They're pulling up fast and... Pfft! There, I knocked the rear window out. Now, hold her steady, kid. Give me a chance to aim. I'll hold her, Mr. Ed. I got a headlight. That's all. They're still pulling up. Maxie, can't you get more speed out of this boat? I'm sorry, Mr. Ed. I just can't get her over 75. And you'll say you could drive. We'll be dead pigeons in another minute. That's a tummy gun. Yeah, I know, Mr. Ed. What is it, Mr. Ed? Hey, they got me, kid, on the shoulder, I... I can't use my gun anymore. They're pulling up fast, Maxie. Maxie, you've sold us out. You're slowing down on purpose so they can catch us. No, really, I'm not, Mr. Ed. You're lying. If I could use my gun, I'd plug it. You're going to stop the car and let them get me. Hanna, you watch. They're right behind. They're going to try to pass and then stop us. Now, hold tight and watch out. You're swerved into them. Turn them over. They went into a telephone pole. Yeah, that's a trick. If you're swerved just the right second against the front wheels, you can do it every time and not be hurt yourself. Maxie, you promoted, kid. From now on, you're the mob's official driver. Oh, gee, Mr. Ed. Gee, I don't... I don't know what to say. And I thought you were double-crossing me back there. Oh, I wouldn't double-cross you ever, Mr. Ed. You're my friend. And so the odd friendship between the big-shot gang leader and the strange little man whose only talent was his uncanny ability at the wheel of a car went on year after year. The prohibition ended. Big Ed Jansky moved on to the protection racket. From there, he went on to other illegal but profitable enterprises always apparently immune to the law. Until at last came the day when things were abruptly changed. Wait, wait a minute, counselor. Are you trying to tell me that they can make this charge stick that maybe they can send me to jail? I'm afraid they can, Jansky. Now, this is a federal indictment. You know how tough the feds are. What income tax? Whoever heard of a guy getting sent to jail for not paying his income tax? They sent Al Capone away on a similar indictment, Jansky. You'd have heard about it if you hadn't been in Europe. Well, you should have warned me. It's your fault. You retank me too late, Jansky. Look, the Special Department of Justice Prosecutor is coming here this afternoon. I'm going to try to make a deal for you to pay your back taxes. His name's Tom Nelson. He's just a kid. And an offer of $2 million will interest him enough so he won't mind saving the government the trouble of a trial. $2 million? That's every cent I got. If they're convicted, they'll take it away anyway. Don't worry. Even if worse comes to worse, I think I can get you off with six months. And you sent for me, Mr. Ed? Well, sit down, kid. How long have you been with me, Maxie? 13 years? 12 years, six months, and three days. Since the night you said you'd be my friend if I stuck by you. You practically got it right down to the minute, haven't you? Oh, yeah. I couldn't ever forget it. Well, you've been with me longer than anybody else, kid. Maybe somebody might come around wanting to ask you questions. Who, Mr. Ed? This special federal prosecutor. You know, the one they appointed a while back, Tom Nelson. You know about him? Oh, yeah, I do. His name's been in the paper a lot lately. I read every word. Well, he's trying to send me to Atlanta. Me, Big Ed Jansky, just because I didn't pay income tax. You know, I got a notion to send a rod to bump off this Nelson, just to teach him all a lesson. Oh, no, Mr. Ed. No, what? Oh, you mustn't have him shot. Then everything would be spoiled. I don't get you, Maxie. Well, I mean they might catch him and make you burn in the electric chair. If they could prove anything. You know, you're right, kid. It wouldn't do any good just to bump off one of them, would it? Anyway, this is the idea. You know a lot about me. And now I know I can trust you. Sure, you can trust me. We're friends. Yeah, yeah, but you're not very bright, kid. And this Nelson is. He might learn things from you without your knowing it. So I want you to stay out of sight until after the trial. Anything you say, Mr. Ed? You remember that farm I bought up in Vermont? Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember. Well, you take the little car and drive up there tonight. There's plenty of canned stuff in the cellar. You stay hid there until I send for you. I'll be in a clear again in a month or two. Even if they tag me, it'll only be for six months. I'll do just what you say, Mr. Ed. You can trust me for anything. But Big Ed Jansky's days of immunity were over. And the end of his trial made big headlines in the newspapers. Eventually, the news reached even the isolated farm where Maxie waited anxiously. He slowly read the news that told how his boss had been stunned by a 10 to 15-year sentence in a latter penitentiary. How raging like a maniac, he had leaped at the throat of the special prosecutor, Tom Nelson, screaming that he would kill him if it was his last act. Now, the guards had pulled him away, handcuffed him, and carried him out of the courtroom, still shouting threats. But when he had finished, Maxie put the paper down, shook his head. Gee, I'm glad he didn't hurt Mr. Nelson. But they put poor Mr. Ed in jail. I got to go see him right away. Gee, Mr. Ed, they say you'll be here 10 years, maybe. What'll I do all that time? That's a lot of years. For Pete's sake, don't start sniffling, Maxie. Yeah, it's a lot of years. And it's that Nelson who's done it to me. He could have gone easy. He was trying to make a name for himself at my expense. Just wait till I get out. He'll have a name all right. It'll be mud. What? What'll you do? I'll plug him, that's what. I told him so in court, and I meant it. Oh, no, Mr. Ed, please. If you kill him, they'll make you sit on the electric chair. When I say a thing, I mean it. Now, tell me, what are you doing out of the gang's all scattered? Well, I got a job, Mr. Ed. I had to get one when I got back to the city and my money was all gone. A job? Who'd give you a job? Well, it's a night watchman job. Nobody else wanted it. You remember that big apartment house on Riverside Drive? The great big one that never got finished because their builders went broke. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the one. The outlook house. Body floor's high and never finished inside. Well, it's so lonely and gloomy and so full of rats. Nobody wants to be night watchman, so they gave me a job. Hey, that gives me an idea. Yeah, Mr. Ed, about eight years from now, figuring time off for good behavior, I'm getting out of here. And when I do, I'll need a friend. Oh, I'll always be your friend. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. So listen, I don't want you to come here again. I don't want you to write. I don't want anybody to know that you know me. You don't? No, because after I leave Stur and do what I said I'm going to do, I'll need a hideout. So you hang on to that night watchman job. See, Maxie, sure, Mr. Ed, when the night comes that I knock on the door, you have a hide in place all ready for me, understand? Have a hideout with a cops on never a fine big Ed Jansky. So the years slipped away, and Maxie, older now, a curious, stooped figure, never spoke to anyone unless he was spoken to first. He went about his rounds as night watchman in this still empty and unfinished outlook house, 40 stories high, with 500 empty echoing rooms where the rats squeaked and scantled. Finally, the day came, Big Ed Jansky was released, forgotten by everyone, except Maxie. Now Big Ed Jansky had made a promise. He hadn't forgotten it. For the evening of his return to the city, he was waiting in a darkened room for the door to open and admit the man he had sworn to kill. Jansky! Yeah, Jansky. Eight years later. Maybe you'd forgotten all about me, huh? Maybe you'd forgotten about my promise. Put away that gun, Jansky. Maybe you'd forgotten, Elton, but I didn't. Eight years I've been in the pen, and every minute of that time, your name's been eaten away at me because you were still alive. I'm fixing that right now. Jansky, you can't get away with it. This'll prove who's right, me or you. Take it, Nelson. Again, the name of Big Ed Jansky was in the papers in big black headlines. Special prosecutor killed. Police hunt, released convict in murder of crime-fighter. And as the headlines blaze their news, Maxie shuffled through the empty corridors of the Outlook house, making his rounds. Now that's the last station for this round, so I guess we better go down and see if Mr. Ed's come yet. Come on, gray whiskies. Help! You don't know Mr. Ed Gray whiskies, but he's my friend. He's the only friend I ever had. And we'll go downstairs to the back door and wait for him. You may get here any minute now. You'll remember. I told you lots about Mr. Ed, just like I told you about the pop and mom and my kid brother, and how good he's been doing since he got out of college. Sure, sure, I knew you remembered. Well, Mr. Ed is coming here to hide out from the police. You know, he killed somebody, so he has to hide out or they'll catch him and they put him in the electric chair. We're friends, so I have to help him. I wish he hadn't done it, though. I do wish he hadn't. Oh, there he is now. He's here. Maxie, Maxie! I'm coming, Mr. Ed. I'm coming. Here I am, Mr. Ed. Come in, Mr. Ed, quick, huh? All right, I'm in. Get the door shut. Better. Well, Maxie, here I am at last. Aren't you gonna say hello? That is, I surprise you too much. Oh, no, Mr. Ed, I read about it in the papers. Then you knew I'd be around. Well, well, what about it? You got a hideout fixed up for me? Oh, yeah, Mr. Ed, but gee, I wish you hadn't done it. Don't start that now. Nelson had it coming to him and he got it. Just show me the hideout. The cops are after me. But if I can lay low for a week, I'll be free as air. I got pals to prove I was in Chicago the whole time. All right, Mr. Ed. Hey, are we alone here in this 40-story joint? All alone. It's just you and me and 500 empty rooms. They just follow after me now, and I'll show you the hideout I got fixed up. Hey, what a joint. A grave would be cozier. Here we are now. Here? Where are we now? Down in the sub-basement. It's colder and damper than an icebox. We're 50 feet underground. Being buried would be more cheerful. What are those things over there? They're all just the auxiliary furnaces. What do you mean, auxiliary? Just for emergencies. This building is supposed to get steam and electric from the steam and electric company, see? Well, at least furnaces are only in case something breaks down. Then the building can make its own steam and electric. Well, where's the hideout? You don't expect me to hide in a furnace, do you? Right here, see? Now, these are the doors to the core bin. They wind up like this. Now we can duck underneath and get inside. Just follow me. Now we're inside the coal bin. I brought down some blankets and a lantern for you. There they are. Ain't it a swell hideout, huh? A concrete coal bin. It's big enough, but no windows, no doors, except that one. I'd rather be in solitary. Yeah, but nobody will ever find you. That's what's important. It's supposed so, but what's that? It's only the rats. There, the gray whiskers is chasing them away. Now, gray whiskers is my cat. He follows me around every place I go. Oh, he's very smart. I tell him about you and about my pop and mom and how good my kid brother's been going and stuff like that. I don't care what you talk to him about. You know, you never were very bright, Maxi, and you're getting dumber all the time. Gee, Mr. Ed, you mean you don't like the hideout? No, I don't like the hideout of coal bin 50 feet underground. I'll stay here, but only until after the heat goes off and no longer. I understand, Mr. Ed. That's why I keep wishing you hadn't killed Tom Nelson. Then this wouldn't be necessary. It's done or nothing's going to undo it. Well, I got to be getting back to my rounds now. If I'm late punching in, it'll show on the clock, and they wonder why they might get this snooping around. Yeah, yeah, that's right. For rounds and all rounds, I want some stuff. I want grub and magazines and some rye and cigarettes. You'll hustle them down here. First chance you get, see? That's sure. I have a dandy idea for that. Hey, you see that hole up there in the ceiling? Yeah, right over us. What about it? Well, it goes up to a manhole in the courtyard. Out back at a building. And what of it? Why, instead of coming down to bring your food and stuff, I'll just lift that manhole and let the stuff down on the string. It'll save lots of time. And if anybody should come snooping around, I won't ever have to come near the basement. I get it. Hey, you know, you're not quite as stupid as I thought. I figured you'd see how smart it is. Now I'll go outside and crank the door down and nobody will ever know you're here. Hey, you leave that door like it is. It's going to stay open, see? Yeah, but if the cops come around looking for you, they'll know right away you're here if the door is open. All right, close the door. So long, Mr. Ed. And don't forget the grub. I won't. There. I've closed it all but an inch. I'll get your stuff at midnight, Mr. Ed. Mr. Ed. Oh, Mr. Ed. That's your machine. I got your stuff, Mr. Ed. About time. I'm letting it down on a string. OK, let it come. It is, Mr. Ed. Can you reach it yet? No, no, not yet. Keep it coming. Well, I let out all the string. Can you reach it now? Yeah, yeah, I got it. OK, my machine. I got to go now, Mr. Ed. There's a truck just arrived with a delivery. Hey, you there. You the watchman? Yeah, yeah, that's me. Where does this load go? Back around right over here, huh? Got it? That's fine. Yeah, we got to make this snappy. There's another load of coal coming right after me, and they'll keep coming until daylight. We got to finish delivery before the daytime traffic starts. Yeah, I understand. I got the manhole open for you. Oh, good. All right, now we'll put the coal shoot in place. That's got it. Now to crank up the body and let old man gravity do his stuff. Yeah, drive me nuts to hang around here every so many. It shows you what a joint like this can do to a man's nerves. Makes them hear screams and stuff like that. They're finishing the Outlook house at last, huh? Yeah, in a month people will be moving in. Well, the coal bins will be full, 200 tons. That's bin number five you're filling now. By morning it'll have 40 tons in it. Well, it's just for the auxiliary finances. They won't ever use it unless the steam and electric from the regular companies goes off. And the heat goes off, huh? And that might be never. I've got to make room for the next one. I'll be back, though, and hope I don't hear any more screams. I don't guess you will. I'll bet you one thing, though. Now why? This building's been empty so long, I'll bet you when people start living in it, they'll find it's picked up a ghost. Is that you, gray whiskers? Hey, what's the matter? You ought to be in bed. It's almost morning now, and all the coal bins are full up. Bin number five is full at the top. And Mr. Ed is down underneath 40 tons of coal, where the police won't ever find him. He was my friend, the only friend I ever had. I had to help him hide out when the cops were after him, didn't I? But I wish it could have been different. If only Mr. Ed hadn't shot Tom Nelson, because what I couldn't tell him, what I didn't ever want anybody to know was that Tom Nelson was my kid brother. Mr. Ever again, well, that's a real friend for you, that Maxie. He'll help you hide if it kills you, and if probably will. It's a big lesson for Big Ed Jansky, all right? He'll teach him to stay out of coal bins in the future. But don't worry about him. 40 tons of coal will keep him warm for a long time. Well, that reminds me of another story in which an ambitious young man who, with two corpses on his hand, decides that he, oh, you have to get off here. I'm sorry. I'm sure we'll meet again. I take this same train every week at this same time. You have just heard the Mysterious Traveler. Now you can enjoy other tense and exciting tales of the Mysterious Traveler in the January issue of the Mysterious Traveler magazine now available. In our cast were Lawson's Irving, Frank Silvera, and Sidney Paul, with Maurice Tarplin starred in the title role. Music under the direction of Sylvan Levin, composed by Richard U. Page. The Mysterious Traveler is written, produced, and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogan. All characters in our story were fictitious, and he resembled to names of actual persons was purely coincidental. Phil Tonkin speaking, this program came to you from New York. Pardon us, but your shadow is showing. Yes, your shadow, my shadow, and everyone's shadow is showing over most of the same mutual stations every Sunday, showing outstanding mystery entertainment. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.