 And the producer of radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, the master of mystery and adventure, William M. Robson. As Mark Antony said, we are all, all honorable men. And most of us live out our lives of quiet desperation, believing this to be so, since we are never called upon to put our honor to the test. But faced with the ultimate alternative, how many of us would proudly choose death rather than dishonor? What is one man's honor may well be another man's expediency. Upon such imponderables is our story of suspense built. It takes place in a nameless country at a time which could be yesterday or today or tomorrow. But the questions it raises can be answered only by each one of us secretly and to himself alone. Listen, listen then, as Miss Maria Palmer stars in The Wait, which begins in just a moment. And now, The Wait, starring Maria Palmer, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. Slow, some day a grenade will come. But not tonight, sir. Well, that would be the last of them. I don't know. Someone's running from the house. Well, finish him. You others, stand watch. Come up. Let's check them off. Give me the list. This one would be the kid, Jornan. Three eyes don't look well on anyone. Shame he was so young. He's old now. All right, check off the name Jornan. Yes, that's the finish of it. Delcy, Hagar, Wooden, the watchman where their arms were concealed, their truck driver, a girl, a girl. She must be inside. Well, look. My grenade did well. Not well enough. Where's the girl? Here. Then it is not the last. There is still you. There is still me. But how did you, uh, my grenade? I was in the back. You crept up so silently I didn't... Is he the last, Jornan? You know without asking. Our information could be incorrect. All we were told was that insurrectionists could be found at this farm. They gave us a list. Who told? Who informed? What difference does it make now? I can do no harm now. I'm as good as dead. But you're still alive, which is quite a different matter from being dead as we all inevitably discover. Bear me your philosophy. Who informed? It doesn't matter at this stage of the game. Like an animal. You slaughtered him like an animal. And the others... You would have preferred our being pious about it. What would we be to do? Throw a prayer in the door in advance of the grenade? Like animals. People like you shouldn't be revolutionists. It's people like me who will free our country. You shouldn't be revolutionists. It's not fair. A well-fed ponch moves onto some distant political platform. It mutters a few shabby words. It makes a few shabby gestures. And people like you die. For freedom. Oh, please. It's almost pathetic. I'd like to die now, please. Well, there is no reason to delay, really. All right, App, take her. Come along with me, dear. It'll be over quick. You just hang onto my hand. Wait. Sir, I'm ready. I swear I'm ready. No, you're trembling. The night winds hear about a chill. App, fetch your blanket, the shawl. I thought you said... Fetch it. Game. Are you playing? I apologize. Sincerely. I was curious to see how you would act. As for the game, obviously a waiting one. What? We have to wait for him, don't we? There's nobody. You have your list? Look at your list. There's no other name on the list. There doesn't have to be. A man led them. We're waiting for that man. He won't come. He'll know. He'll come. There's no reason for him to come. There's you. In a moment, we continue with the second act of suspense. And now, starring Maria Palmer, act two of the wait. Are you sure you're warm enough, girl? I could lend you my jacket, if you want. I'm all right. What are they doing outside? Watching for him. It'll be done before long. They'll call to him, won't they? I mean, they'll give him a chance to surrender. Well, what will happen will happen. How is it you are one of them? Oh, you think I'm too old for this sort of monkey business? Perhaps you're right. But I'm one of them. Well, for the same reason that you were on the other side. Political conviction. But they're traitors. They betrayed our government and seized power. They oppressed the people. Oh, I did see. That's how it looks to you. That's how it is. You can't deny truth. The truth is the government subsidized the potato crop this year. Why should that make you, please? I'll get a decent price for my potatoes now. They've bought you with a handful of potatoes. Yeah, the former government never gave me anything. They gave you freedom. I've always had freedom. You've lost it. Look at yourself, a slave in uniform. Don't you go insulting me. I'm in the uniform because I want to help the cause. What about after? Answer me that if you can. After, after when? Once they're firmly dug in power. What then? Well, I should imagine agriculture and so forth. We'll proceed more smoothly. With a kind of fertilizer you've just planted. Watch that. There's no call for that sort of talk. We'll rise again. We'll wipe you and your kind off the map. Perhaps. All I know is somebody's got to be the boss. The stronger the boss, the less trouble there is. And you're the kind of man we die for. No, thank you. I do my own dying. Listen, you've got to let me go. Oh, now that spoils it. But... I thought this was a friendly talk we were having. Him, your leader. He said it. He said it and you're saying it. We are common people, us. Why should we harm each other over a parcel of trick ideas while the men whose ideas they are far off and safe? Well, I won't be tricked, girl. If you don't let me escape, it's the same as if you yourself executed me. But I may have to do the actual job, anyways. And you call that freedom? Being forced to kill a girl young enough to be your daughter? They won't be forcing me. They'll order me to shoot you and... And I'll shoot you. You couldn't. You were... They're young. They're cruel. But not you. I could run out the back door into the wood and you wouldn't touch me. I'd shoot you. I'd have to. No. No, you're human. Well, now you stop edging toward that door. I could almost be your grandchild. How could you harm your own grandchild? I won't. You leave the door alone. I'll be through the door and gone before you notice. You won't give the alarm. You will be thinking young enough to be my own grandchild. My rifle is cocked. I won't. You take your hand from the door latch there. Remember your grandchild. Before the last time... In a moment, we continue with the third act of suspense. And now, act three of the wait. She tried to escape. He shot me. I quit letting her escape, sir. You could have used your rifle, but... Well, that didn't seem proper. You made a fine mess of it. That shot me. I've warned him off. I was only doing my duty. She tried to trick me. How? There are a lot of words, big words, like tyranny, freedom, grandchild. She has more sense than I'd credited. She said if I didn't let her go, it was the same as if I were executing my grandchild. You almost have. Just a little too low. The leg's a mess. It was the first day I'd get in my pack. Get it? Yes, sir. Right away, sir. You know, these sentimental old fools are the worst. You know, the leg, what a crime. He'd have done better by you to have finished you while he was at it. Or is that what you intended? To sound a warning with the shot. Think what you'd like. That was it, eh? The other one? The last one? He's nearby? Is he? Speak. He's nearby? He is due at some particular hour? Dawn? If he... No. No, he'd have to come. He couldn't go past without knowing. He couldn't bear the uncertainty. He'll wait. He'll wait until Dawn and watch. And he'll see you alive in the yard in front of the house. Then he'll come. He's gone by now. He's heard the shot. In 20 minutes, he'll be out of the hills on the highway. Not knowing the fate of his companions? Not likely. He's hard. He always said, every man for himself. He'll come down that path out there. Out from the forest. You're so smug, so sure. And by the saints, so right. Quick, to the window. My leg. Well, for this I'll carry you. Now there. Look. Still so dark. Look. You don't know. At the foot to the path. What do you see? Flag. A little white flag waving. Approaching. It's not him. It can't be him. Up. Hold fire. Tall man. Dark hair. He's wearing a jacket. A leather jacket. It's not him. Thank heavens, it's not him. Run, Willie. Thank you. I couldn't be too sure there was another. You've confirmed my suspicion. Willie. Why doesn't he run? He knows we would drop him. Up. Bring him to me. Prisoner, sir. Well, hardly that. Good morning. You. You know each other? We've met. Well, after all, they'd never have found this place without my explicit directions. You are both your leader and the man who informed on you. Yes, I am. And therefore, Gran, I demand amnesty for delivering them up to you. You'll get it, I think. No, think about it. We keep our bargains. Good. I want it in writing. I'll see that you're issued the appropriate document. Stamped, mind you. Valid. What are you staring at, girl? You? You've seen me often enough before, if you care to remember. I remember. You were fun. You were a god, I thought, and yet so much a man. Our leader. I was honored, I thought. Among them all, I was most honored. That you were. Oh, how I wish it could happen. I wish it could happen again. Even now? Yes, even now. Especially now. So I could blaspheme your godhood and extirpate your manhood. Your ill-caste is a bore, sir. Joan of Arc is a better rope. I ache. My insides ache. I wish I could tear them out and throw them at you. You always were romantically inclined. Well, Gran, the safe conduct. You'll get it. You've been a thorn in our sides these past months. Say, tell me, wasn't it you who sabotaged the power plant at Bogucha? Why? Yes, that was us. Not bad work for a half-dozen sticks of galignite. Well, it was skillful. Even brave. Yeah, we didn't do badly. Why? Yes. Why, Billy? You did. Why, Billy? I wand out. At any price? Any. Coward. Miserable snake. Living, breathing, coward. They've been closing in on me for weeks, and it had to happen. I anticipated the inevitable, no more, no less. But you are not dead. Nor are you. No, I can't accept that as an explanation. Doesn't my being washed in the blood of my men cleanse me for export? Am I not ready for a quiet existence in a remote country where there are no politics? No country is without politics. How is hell run, by the way? You informed not through cowardice. No? Not for the sake of expedience. You say it. Revenge. Oh. You wanted to punish them. It can't be possible. I'm not hearing it. Hagar. And Hagar saved you from drowning the night in the canal at Bogucha. Well, Hagar I tried to preserve hardest of all. Hagar would be the blonde man, I take it? That was Hagar. Stand him up in front of a firing squad and it would be Hagar's voice ringing out defiance as he fell. Oh, they were heroes, one and all. He's lost his mind. Unfortunately, no. I tried. I did all I could. Her. Well, I never attempted to persuade her. Nothing in her but virtue. She's blinded by a classical education. A saturation of hectares and achilles. Greater and lesser Greco-Roman heroes. You were insane. Watch her. Watch her face. La patrie. Don't you see? Even in a foreign language, she glows. Were they Hagar and the others enjoying it that much? They moved in righteous glory, a wonder to behold. God was on our side. God was supposed to be on our side? Well, naturally. To be sacrilege to suggest that he would never identify himself with either party, not being that bunch of an idiot. If, if they had listened to me, we could have disbanded, gone away, tried to live down our stupidity. I would just strain her up. Easy girl. One day I was just like the rest I believed fighting was to some purpose and I fought. The next day I woke with a slight cold and the realization I was a fool. I decided right then I was not going to die for any ideological concept which could better be settled at a business luncheon. I realized what I wanted in my hand was my old student's briefcase, in the other the handle of a baby carriage. Surely you understand. Perhaps. See, he gets his safe conduct, that go. Tell him to fall in. We leave here in a couple of minutes. Correct. And leave me your rifle. Sir. You heard me, your rifle. Yes. That's all. Escort this man as far as the beginning of the footpath. Be sure he sets on his way immediately. This one. You sit there. I can't determine the expression on your face. I see the tears. What does the lion of your mouth mean? Are you looking at the scene through the window? The sun is well up, the air is clear. You have a pleasant view of the footpath. I imagine Villy will be appearing on that short stretch of open ground any moment. Any moment. You are familiar with the operation of this type of firearm? You are? Good. There is a cartridge in the chamber. I will leave it on the table in front of you with an easy reach. I will come back to this room for his rifle in approximately three minutes. Then assemble, sir. We're almost at the end of our waiting. That's good, sir. She has your rifle. She was staring out the window when I left. You mean for her to use it on herself, sir? That or possibly. It's too bad we can't see that open piece of the footpath from here. Still, I imagine that about this instant, I must have misjudged, sir. Done what, App? She's... She's... I think we can assume somebody is dead. You two men on the double, the footpath. If he's not dead, finish him. App the house, the girl. Take care of her if necessary. If it's to be futile and meaningless, it may as well be a hundred percent so. Suspense. Maria Palmer starred in William and Robeson's production of The Weight, written by Herbert Hosey. Supporting Maria Palmer in The Weight were John Danaer, Carl Swenson, and Howard McNeer. Listen. Listen again next week when we return with Raymond Burr in The Treasure Chest of Don Hosey. Another tale well calculated to keep you in. Suspense.