 Suspense, which is usually heard at this hour on Thursday nights, is taking its customary summer holiday. Suspense returns to the air next week on Thursday, September 1st. You are groping through the midnight darkness of a gigantic department store. A hundred eyes are staring at you, a hundred hands are reaching for you, and your most urgent desire is to escape. We offer you escape, designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight we escape to a fantastic world of night dwellers, as John Collier imagines it in his eerie story, Evening Primrose. Sadie. Sadie, what's the matter? It's me. You nearly scared me to death. What do you mean coming in so quiet? I don't mean to scare you. I thought you'd be asleep. I didn't want to wake you. Oh, Sam, I'm glad you're home. What's the matter? Oh, it's terrible. You've got to do something, Sam. What's terrible? It's this. Just look at this. What's terrible about that? Looks like an ordinary pair of paper to me. That's just it. That's what I thought, too. But it's got writing in it. It's awful. Now, wait a minute. Maybe you better tell me what this is all about. Well, today I went shopping at Bracey's department store. I needed some writing paper, so I picked this up. It was on top of the pile, and I bought it, and I brought it home. So? But tonight, when I opened it, I found it's got writing in it. What's not in so terrible? Just take it back tomorrow and make them give you no one. No, you don't understand. It's what's written in it that's so terrible. What do you mean what's written in it? Here, you've got to read it. Oh, Sadie. No, right now. Now, read it. Look, Sadie, I'm tired. I've been bowling all evening. Please, Sam, please. Just read it. All right. Have a Pete's sakes. Sam. October 13th. Today I made my decision. I decided to say goodbye to the world. To get out, leave, break away. And I have done... Ah, Sadie, this is... Sam. And now I am free. Really free. Yes, I am free at last. The world is an intolerable place for a poet. I was broke, starving at my wit's end. And then I had the brilliant idea. I'd escaped to a place where I had no need to earn a living. Where I could write to my heart's content in peace and security and where everything was free. And where is this place? Right under your nose. So close you'd never think of it. I am now living in Bracey's department store. I arrived this afternoon. I had spent three days looking over all of the department stores in town. I decided on Bracey's because of the completeness of their food department. Therefore, this afternoon I entered the store and went immediately to the fourth floor to the rug department. And hid myself in this dusty, out-of-the-way corner behind a pile of carpets. After the store closed, I took toad as far as the station recounter and got this paper, the writer's primary need. Now, after making my first entry, I'll stroll around the store and get food, wine, the pillows for my bed, perhaps a fancy dressing gown. Oh, this is perfect. Here I'll be able to write. Dawn, October 14. I am almost too unnerved to write this. The whole thing is unbelievable. After the store was dark and completely quiet, I crept out and started for the food department. One steps echo hollily in an empty department store at night and I found myself gliding along the floor on tiptoe, moving as silently as possible. But the sound of footsteps persisted and suddenly I realized they were not my own. The night watchman. I was in the salon modern. Quickly I seized a mink coat from a hanger, draped it about my shoulders and stood stuck still. I could have reached out and touched him, but he passed without so much as a glance. I started to smile, but the smile frozen lips. I was looking straight into a pair of eyes, large, flat, luminous, inhumanized, a dozen feet away. They belonged to a creature dressed as a man, but he was as pale as something found underneath a stone. His hands, hanging motionless at his sides, look more like the fins on a fish than human hands. Not bad for a beginner. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know anybody else, sir. You lived here. We live here. It's delightful. We? Yes, all of us. Don't you see? Look around you. I looked around and saw nothing. I looked again and saw an old one come clambering out from behind a clock. There were three elderly Angenous, incredibly emaciated. Pale as lace, almost transparent, simpering before a perfume counter. A chintzy lady swam out from the curtains and drapes and they came, swarming, thick around me, pale, thin, wispy, moving silently, fluttering like gauze in the wind, whispering. A detective, sin for the dark man. They were pressing around me, clawing, holding me. Their pale faces contorted with venomous inhuman hatred. I was paralyzed. All I could do was repeat over and over again. I'm not a detective. I'm not. I'm not a detective or a burglar. I'm a poet. Then what are you doing here? I've renounced the world. I came here to live where I could be alone, away from the world. Why then he's come over to us. He's just like us. He's come over to us, the poet. He must meet Mrs. Vandepan. Mrs. Vandepan, she's coming now. I followed their eyes toward the balcony and the hair on my neck rose again. There, coming down the wall, like an ancient spider clambered an old lady wrinkled and cracked and inatiated. She must have been at least 80, a shadowy matriarch, and the things around me bowed and scraped as she reached the floor and floated toward us. What's going on here? Where is that stupid girl? What's keeping her? Oh, Mrs. Vandepan. Well, what is it? Who's this, Mr. Roscoe? Mrs. Vandepan, may I present Mr.... Ah, Snell, Charles Snell. Yes, Mr. Snell. He's a poet. He has come here to live. Oh, he has, has he? That's what he says, and I believe him. Well, I... He avoided the night watchman quite neatly for a beginner. Thank you. Very well, we shall see. A poet should find inspiration here. Mr. Snell, Mrs. Vandepan is our grand old lady. I am quite the oldest inhabitant here, Mr. Snell. Three mergers and a complete rebuilding. But they didn't get rid of me. Where is Ella? Where is my broth? She is bringing it, Mrs. Vandepan. It will come. Terrible little creature. She's our foundling, Mr. Snell. She's not quite our sort. Yes, sir. Is that so? I have been here, Mr. Snell, ever since the terrible times of the 80s. I was a young girl then. A beauty, they said. And poor Papa lost his money. Races meant a lot to a young girl in those days. So when I wasn't able to have a charge account, I came here to live. That's better than a charge account. I was quite alarmed when others began to come after the crash of 1907. But it was the dear judge. The Colonel, Mrs. Bilby. How do you do? Mrs. Bilby writes plays. And comes of an old Philadelphia family. Oh, you will find us quite nice here, Mr. Snell. I'm sure I will. And of course, all our dear young people came in 1929. Their papas jumped from skyscrapers. They couldn't bear to be without charge accounts either. All these nice people live here? Oh, and many more. Oh, here comes Anna with my broth. Come, you stupid thing. Yes, come, Ella, come. Yes, sir, I'm coming as fast as I can. On the table over there. Be careful. Don't spill it. Oh, but she is young. Well, of course, she is a little younger than most of us. She's different. She's beautiful. That's right. She's really not our sort. Well, you shouldn't say such things. She can hear you. Oh, that doesn't matter. Mrs. Bilby, please. You'll understand these things better after you've been here a while, Mr. Snell. But it seems to me that... Mr. Snell, we have certain rules here. They are necessary for our survival. I'm sure you won't find it hard to observe them. Yes, but... I would advise that you try. If you do not, it would be most unfortunate, Mr. Snell. Most unfortunate. In just a moment, we will return to the second act of escape. But first, if you want lots of stars, you won't have to look through a telescope or be hit over the head. All you have to do is tune in over most of these same CBS network stations next Monday night and every Monday night thereafter and you will find all the stars. They'll be on the Lux Radio Theater, playing and radio adaptations of your favorite motion pictures. Don't forget the Lux Radio Theater, one of five great shows on CBS, every Monday night. And now we return to the second act of escape and tonight's story, Evening Primrose. October 15. I plan to quit my hiding place, mingle with the crowds and leave braces forever. But just a dawn, Mr. Roscoe brought me a cup of coffee which must have been drugged for I fell asleep. When I awoke, night was closing over the store once more. Later, I have spent my second night here. I saw Ella again. Ella, the pearl of this remote, fantastic cave. She's not like the others, triple pale but otherwise normal and human and beautiful. A child of perhaps 18, she's the only thing that makes this nightmare bearable. October 20. Escape is impossible because of the dark men. Who are the dark men? I don't know. But the inhabitants threaten any transgressor with these dark men. Speaking to the night watchman would be suicide. I'm convinced that neither Ella nor I could get out of here alive. She and the night watchman are the only real people here and how the others hate the night watchman. Odious, vulgar creature. He reeks of the coarse sun. Oh, come now, Mrs. Bilby. He's really a personable young man. He's very young for a night watchman. Mr. Snell, sometimes I wonder about your taste. You must not stay so much to yourself. You must become better acquainted with our way. That's quite true. You must come to the play tonight. I'm going to be entertained with one of Mrs. Bilby's tragic comedies, Love in Shadowland. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. I'm sure I will. It's really a festive occasion, you know. Wanamakers is coming over. Wanamakers? Yes, the entire colony over at Wanamakers is coming here on mass to attend the play. You mean there are people living in other stores? Oh, dear, yes. Didn't you know? Of course the best people live in bracies and Wanamakers. Oh, come now, Mrs. Bilby. There are some very nice people at Orphans. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bilby. Oh, hello, Ella. Good evening, Mr. Snell. Well, what is it, Ella? Please, Mamma, I'd so love to see you play tonight. May I have your permission? Certainly not. You know better than that, you stupid creature. You know where you belong, in the basement by the garbage cans. But, Mrs. Bilby... Hush, Mrs. Snell. Ella, you're becoming entirely too forward of late. I'd advise you to watch your step. Remember, the dark man. No, please, Mr. Roscoe. I'm sorry, Mrs. Bilby, excuse me. How can you treat her like that? Why do you always frighten her? What is all this about the dark man? Well, you see... Oh, please, Mr. Roscoe, not now. You'll spoil our whole evening. I do so want, Mr. Snell, to enjoy my play. Very well, Mrs. Bilby. Later, Mr. Snell. But I want to know about the dark man. Later? Later. October 21. I found an opportunity to speak to Ella alone. Last night at the play I induced a fit of hiccups. As I anticipated, I was sternly reprimanded to go and secrete myself in the basement where the night watchman wouldn't hear me. This was exactly what I had planned. I went to the basement. I'm bearing the darkness among the garbage can and the rats I heard sobbing. Ella? Ella? Ella, is that you? Why are you crying? What is it, Ella? They wouldn't even let me see the play. Oh, is that all? I'm so unhappy. No, no, no, you mustn't cry. You're the only one, the only one who's kind. Ella, Ella, why do they treat you so differently? Because I'm not like them. I didn't choose to come here. You mean you're held prisoner? Yes. You see, I was only six. I came here on the shopping tour with my mother. I got lost and fell asleep behind a counter. It was dark and when I woke they found me. Some of them wanted to send for the dark men because they were afraid I would tell on them, but Mrs. Vanderpent said, no, I could stay and be her maid. I've been here ever since. Since you were six, but haven't you ever tried to get away? Oh, no, I don't know anything about out there. I wouldn't know what to do. Besides, I'm afraid to take the chance if anyone tries to get out they send for the dark men. Ella, who are the dark men? It's horrible. Don't tell me. You know how people live in all the stores, at Gimbles and Bloomingdale's. Well, the dark men live at the undertakers. And whenever someone dies or breaks the rules or when a burglar gets in and sees these people and might tell, they send for the dark men. That's horrible. They put the body in the butcher shop in the food department and then the dark men come. I saw them once. It was terrible. What? What did they do? They go in where the dead person is. They have wax with them and all sorts of things. And when they're gone, there's just a wax model left on the counter. Then our people put a frock on it or a bathing suit and mix it up with the other wax models in the window and nobody ever knows. Ella, do you mean all these dummies around us? Oh, not all of them, but if you displease these people the same thing will happen to you. October 30. Once more, I'm frozen with terror. Not for myself now, but for Ella. They hate her. Any time they might turn against her and send for the dark men. My mind is filled with her. I dream of her every day. I live to see her at night. We've managed it several times. They trust me now and let me roam about without interference. Finally tonight, I met her again and said it. Ella, I love you. I love you, Ella. Let's get married or whatever they do here and then we can live together in my home in the carpet department. They wouldn't dare hurt you there. No, don't look so dismayed. If you like, we'll go away from here. Maybe we can get transferred to Bergdorf Goodman's overlooking Central Park. Don't, Charles. You mustn't. But I love you. Ella, you're not in love with someone else. Charles, yes. Yes, I am. But who? That must be Roscoe. He's the only one that's young enough. No, Charles. Not Roscoe. Especially not him. I do hate them all. They make me shudder. Well, who is it then? It's he. Who? The Night Watchman. No, no, that's impossible. I love him. He smells of the sun. Oh, it was wonderful. The way it happened. Don't tell him, Charles. He'll punish me. I was careless and there he was, coming around the corner in the ladies lingerie department. I was caught. There were only some wax models in their underthings and there was nothing else to do. I slipped off my dress and stood still. I see. He stopped near me. He looked at me and, oh, Charles, he spoke to me. He said, say, honey, I wish they made him like you on the Eighth Avenue. Charles, it wasn't a lovely thing to say. Personally, I should have said Park Avenue. Charles, don't get like these people here. It doesn't matter what avenue. It was a lovely thing to say. Well, what can you do about it? Ella, he belongs to another world. Yes, to Eighth Avenue and I want to go there. Charles, are you really my friend? Yes, yes, of course I am. Then I'll tell you, I'm going to stand there again in the lingerie department. So he'll see me. And then? Perhaps he'll speak to me again. Ella, Ella, you're only torturing yourself. You only think that you love him because you think he'll take you out of here. But you don't know that he will. And I will, Ella. I made up my mind. Oh, no, Charles, I couldn't let you do it. Even if I loved you, you couldn't do it, Charles. Why not? Because you really belong here. You've become one of them now. Oh, Ella. Ella, you mustn't say that. It's true. Charles, I've got to go. There's someone watching us, I feel. Hello, wait, Ella. Goodbye, Charles. No, Ella, come back. Ella! Please, Mr. Snell. He'll arouse the night watchman. Roscoe? Yes. Love can be very upsetting, can't it? You... You heard? Just the last moment or so. Very touching. So, she loves another. Too bad. Who could it be? Could it be that I am the cause of your heartbreak? Oh, you flatter yourself too much, Roscoe. In who? Your judge? Certainly not the colonel. Hardly. None of those. Not one of the customers, the staff? No, she loves the night watchman. Can you imagine that? She loves the night... Oh. Roscoe, look, I shouldn't have said that. It's not true. You wouldn't do anything. Tell anybody. This is a secret between us, Roscoe. Between friends, isn't it? Of course. A secret as the grave. Look, look, she's young. Perhaps he'll leave and she'll forget him. In any time, who knows, perhaps she'll learn to love... your... me. Of course, in time. And we'll figure a way to keep her safe here. Absolutely safe. Now, don't you worry about it. It's almost dawn. Time for bed. Good morning, Mr. Snell. Early evening, November 4, I was a fool. I should have known he couldn't be trusted. He must have gone straight to Mrs. Vanderpant. This evening, the atmosphere has changed. People flicker to and fro, smiling nervously, horribly with a sort of frightened, sadistic exaltation. An informal dance in the record department has been called off. I cannot find Ella. I'm going out again now to look for her. Roscoe, what have you done with her? Quiet, quiet, the night watchman. What have you done? Whatever I did, I did for your own good, as well as the good of us all. Wait a minute. What's that? What are those people carrying? Boy, it's Ella. She's tied up. They're carrying it. Ella! Ella! Stop it, Mr. Snell, stop it! Let me go! Let me go! No, stop it, Mr. Snell, stop it! You rouse the night watchman. They're taking her into... into the butcher's shop. Ella! Yes, Mr. Snell. Those are the dark men. Midnight. I'm scribbling this last entry hurriedly. There and there, in the butcher's shop, with Ella, the dark man. There's only one thing to do. I'm going to find the night watchman and tell him he and I will save her if we can. And if we're overpowered, well, I will leave this pad on the station recanted. Tomorrow, if I live, I'll recover it. If I do not, whoever finds this and reads it, look in the windows, look for three new wax dummies. Two men. One rather sensitive looking and a girl. She has blonde hair and blue eyes and her nose turns up a little. Look for us and then find them, smoke them out, exterminate them, advantageous. Oh, Sam, isn't it horrible? Wow. We've got to do something. We've got to tell somebody something. Oh, Sam, what do we do? Do. Nothing. Go to bed. But, Sam... Whoever wrote this has sure got a weird sense of humor, hey. Probably some clay down at Bracey's ought to be fired. But you think it's just a story? Are you kidding? You don't believe this stuff, do you? Well, I don't know. I just thought... Don't forget it, baby. Snap out of it. I shouldn't leave you alone. You get too many ideas when I go out bowling at night. Oh, Sam, but don't you think maybe we ought to just take it back and show somebody? Nuts. It's not worth the bother. They'd laugh at you, baby. They'd think you were crazy or something. Yeah. I guess you're right. I guess it was silly. Forget it. Come on. Let's go to bed. I'm tired. Sure, Sam. And golly, you know there for a while I sure was scared. Well, I even forgot to tell you what I was going to tell you. Sam, I found the cutest dress today, only $19.95. Yeah, but I mean... Yeah, it was in the window at Bracey's. And it was on a beautiful little wax model with blonde hair and blue eyes and a turned-up nose. And there were two men standing beside... Escape, produced and directed by Norman McDonnell. Tonight brought to you evening primrose by John Collier, adapted for radio by John Donkel and starred Van Wright. Featured in the cast were Georgia Ellis, Harry Bartel, Vivi Janis, Wilms Herbert, Lois Corbett and Ruth Parrot. Music was conducted by Sandy Courage. Next week's suspense returns to the air with Gregory Peck in a terrifying radio play Nightmare. Be sure to be with us at the same time next week when once again we present a story well-calculated to keep you in suspense. You've got a date with a beautiful blonde Monday night. She's my friend Irma, the comedy starring Marie Wilson. Returning to CBS for a sparkling new season of laughter, my friend Irma is one of the exciting lineup of Monday night shows you'll hear over CBS this fall. Marie Wilson is the comic misadventurous. Will delight you when her brain goes into reverse with hilarious consequences for all concerned. Remember, my friend Irma returns Monday, August 29th, the same Monday night that Lux Radio Theatre comes back to CBS over most of these same stations. This is Bob LeMond speaking. Now stay tuned for crime photographer which follows immediately over most of these same stations.