 Suspense. This is the man in black, here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense. With us in Hollywood tonight, a star is Mr. Gene Lockhart, whose remarkable characterizations on the screen have won him a notable following with American audiences. It is with rueful satisfaction, but with satisfaction nonetheless, that the genial Mr. Lockhart contemplates his reputation. Because of his cinematic misdoings, his numberless treacheries, betrayals and cowardly villainies, he is one of the most hated men in the country today. Our story this evening by John Shaw is called, Statement of Employee Henry Wilson. And so with the performance of Gene Lockhart, as he relates and relives the events of the climactic moment in Henry Wilson's life, we again hope to keep you in suspense. I was aware that I was trembling. I tried walking slowly back and forth in front of the desk, but even in motion, my knees felt weak and my whole body shook. I was at always I who trembled and never this pompous insect sitting in front of me. His voice was cool and mocking. His voice was clear and hard. Well, I sympathize with you, of course, Wilson. But the error must be brought to Mr. Lockhart's attention. But there's quite a big mistake there, quite a costly mistake. Mr. Lockhart must know. He wouldn't cover it up. I knew that. Two years ago, this man had come with a firm. For eight years before that, I had worked there, enjoying the work, liking the people. And then he had come there. Have you, have you ever stood quietly by and watched someone rob your house and steal your pocketbook? I was helpless. He was ambitious. He was clever. He was fluent. And as of tonight, I was his subordinate. Two years against ten years. Around the office, I had a reputation of being casual and carefree. But I hated this man. Every inch of me hated this man. And it was not a new hatred. Of course, there's no question of your honesty. His voice was patronizing. The patient teacher and the unruly pupil. I hated him. He smiled up at me and waved his hand in dismissal. He almost brushed a small iron vase off the top of the desk with the gesture. I, I had seen that vase so often. But I had never seen it out of the eyes that I was looking at it with now. Good night, Wilson. Good night, I said. Good night, clever boy. I walked out into the corridor and rang for the elevator. Ah, terrible night, ain't it, Mr. Wilson? I heard the boy talking like he was yelling at me from some distant mountain. He was talking and I was answering. But how either one of us was saying I didn't know. I was thinking of, of something else. I looked at my watch as I stepped out of the car. It was eleven thirty already. I mentioned it. You've had a long day today, Mr. Wilson. Those were the first words of the boy that I heard. Heard clearly. Very clearly. Yes, I told him. Oh, plenty of overtime this week. I stood and looked at him for a moment. Mr. Dodds is still in the office. You might drop in and see if he wants anything. I think he'd be very grateful. I will, sir. I certainly will. It'll help to pass the time, sir. I don't like to complain, but these nights pass awful slow sometimes. Ah, yes. Go up and see if he wants anything. Go up and see. I walked out of the lobby and came back into the building again when the boy had gotten into the elevator. Four flights up. I took the stairs slowly. I was in no rush. I must let the boy get out of the room first. He said the nights passed slowly. This one wouldn't, and yet there would be an eternity compressed in it. When I got to the fourth floor, I stood at the top of the stairs and watched the door to Dodds' office. The elevator was parked at the floor, so I knew the boy was in the room. A short while later he came out, and I crouched back in the shadows until he'd gone down in the car. And then I walked into the room, not in a crouch or moving my feet so that no sound would wake the stillness, but casually, honestly. There was a small waiting room for Mr. Dodds' office. In two years he had a waiting room. In ten I had none. I felt like laughing at the symbolism of that fact. Who's there? I called out my name and entered his office. Yes, what is it, Wilson? He was still sitting down, and the iron vase was still alongside of him, very close to him. I started to talk. I don't know what about business, things in general. I've quite forgotten. I reached across and picked up the iron vase casually, very casually, but his eyes went wild suddenly, and he jumped, and I hit him square on the top of the head with the vase. It wasn't a very good shot. I had no leverage, but he started to slump back in the chair. I hit him again, hard, and again and again, and a red streak ran across his forehead and he laced him. I put my hand against his heart. For a moment there was a soft beating, and then I could feel nothing. I was very calm and very warm. I was calmer than I'd ever been before. I wiped off the vase and put it back onto the desk. I ran through the papers that Dodds had been looking at until I found the one paper I was looking for. I ripped it into little bits, then I put the pieces into my pocket. Outside the building my first act would be to scatter the pieces. I'd cover my mistake myself. I moved slowly back to the door. I wiped the door now and looked once around the room before I opened the door and stepped out into the waiting room, and then... Going harm, Mr. Wilson? I stood there, afraid to turn. I slammed the door shut behind me and stood in front of it. Are you all right, Mr. Wilson? I tried to talk, but the words got caught somewhere in my throat. It was the sweeper. Tom Higbee, the night sweeper. I almost fainted. Everything had been set so nicely. I'd left the building. The elevator boy had come up and found Dodds in good health. Someone had stolen him later and killed him. That would be the elevator boy's story. If suspicion attached to anyone, it would be to the boy. I had left the building. I had left the building, but... But now, this... Are you all right, Mr. Wilson? I'm fine, Tom. A bit of a cold. That's all. A weakens one. How are the wife and kids? Fine, fine. The shock was wearing off. Mr. Dodds is in his room now, Tom. Working very late tonight. You'd better, you know, let his office go for this once. Well, if you say so, Mr. Wilson, I could give it a quick brush though, sir. I wouldn't disturb him none. I stood firm in front of the door. For a moment, I wondered if he'd seen anything when I'd come out of the room. It was possible. He could have looked over my shoulder. Ah, no. No, he hadn't seen anything. He began to sweep the sitting room and I stood and watched him. I couldn't let him get out of here. I'd go to the chair if he told me about being there. And I couldn't kill him, too. Over a quick step, it had been back to normal. I was nervous again, and I felt a sickness at the bottom of my stomach. I tried to talk. To talk, and I, I, I sounded stupid. Tom looked at me. I wouldn't. I wouldn't have to touch him. It would be his word against mine, and I had left the building. I opened the door quickly and went back into Dodd's office. I tried to keep my eyes away from, from that thing at the desk. I remember that he'd kept the bottle in one of the doors, and I took it and brought it out to the sitting room with me. Oh, Tom, Mr. Dodd says a birthday tomorrow, and he wonders if you'll drink his health with me. Well, I don't think he'd better take any tonight. Mr. Dodd says a birthday. Sometime tomorrow, he'll be a day old in the next world. Tom was famous for his liquor habits, but he hesitated. Well, now... I poured the drinks. I don't think he'd better... Up with it, Tom, and down with it. And here's to Mr. Dodd. Well... All right. Here's kindness. He drank one. He drank another. He drank a third, and still I poured them into him. He got talkative and grew very gay, but he didn't pass out. I looked at my watch. It was almost half past 12. One whole hour I'd wasted with him. I could stand no more. He was drunk. Any test would show that. His story tomorrow would be listed as a drunkard's babble. I had left the building an hour ago. I couldn't afford to waste any more time. I walked behind him, and he was laughing. And I hit him as hard as I could on the back of the neck. He pitched forward off the chair onto the floor. I dragged him into Dodd's office. And I left him into the chair facing Dodds. I brought the bottle in from the sitting room and put it on the desk in front of Dodds. I took the iron vase and curled Tom's hands around it for the fingerprints, and I dropped it at his feet. A bottle, a fight, a killing. I was sweating. I went out into the sitting room again and almost fell to my knees. I was frightened. I had to get out of here. I got to the lobby and looked out of the shadows at the elevator. The boy was sitting on a chair outside the car, and he seemed asleep. I came out of the darkness and went quickly towards the street and began to walk rapidly. I wanted to get somewhere out of the world when I ever sleep again. We murderers are not supposed to, and I want to rest. I had a sudden idea. I went into a cafeteria and used the telephone. I called the building and got the elevator boy on the phone. Hello there. Hello, Jim. Oh, this is Mr. Wilson, Jim. Has Mr. Dodds left yet? The voice that answered me was sleepy, and the words were hard to make out, but I knew all the answers. Well, listen closely, Jim. Will you tell him that the address of the place we were talking about is 144 Gray Street? Yes, one for... Yes, that's right. Or he'll know what I mean. Will you go up and tell him now, Jim? All right. Thanks a lot, Jim. I was sure the sweeper would be discovered in the room with Dodds. The address was a Turkish bath. It was logical. A man working all night might want to go to a Turkish bath afterwards. Jim, Jim would walk in now, and heaven only knew what came next. The sweeper would be caught like a rat in a trap, drunk, and with a murdered man sitting across from him. I walked home through streets that crushed me in their shadows, between walls that whispered at me as I passed. I sat up in my room for hours listening to the sounds Manhattan makes in the night, and finally, finally I fell asleep. Then I sat and I slept, and I dreamed until sunrise. I woke with a start. I was shaking like some miserable wet cur. I took a drink and tried breathing deeply. Somewhere I'd read the deep breathing kill there, that scared feeling. What in places was I frightened about? If I was completely safe? But when I left the house, I was still shaking. I walked all around the block that the building was on before I went inside. It looked like any other morning. On the floor where my office was, I saw a policeman, and then another, and then my world was surrounded by a ring of police and plain clothesmen. I must watch my nerves. I must move carefully, and very carefully. None of them paid any more attention to me than they did to any of the others. They assembled all of us in the president's office, and then one of them, the sharp, alert young men, began to talk. Last night, please, last night an attempt was made on the life of one of your associates, Mr. Charles Dodds. A murmur ran around the room. I was talking with the rest, being surprised with the rest. But what did he mean, an attempt? Dodds had been dead. Or, or had he? Fortunately, however, the attack was not successful. And Mr. Dodds has supplied us with some rather unbelievable information. Information which we should... I tried to hold myself. I felt faint suddenly, and then something happened inside me, and I did not blink. It was a trick. It was a trick, I was sure of it. The detective stared at us, across our faces, across my face, searching, staring, and then he shrugged his shoulders. Well, as a matter of fact, Mr. Dodds was killed. And another man you might know, also died last night, Mr. Thomas Higbee, the night sweeper. Higbee, dead too? Again, that rustle of voices, that droning conversation that I was part of. Some of them had known Higbee, he liked him. I hadn't meant to kill him. Could there be some mistake? I wanted to ask one of these men, was there some mistake? I hadn't meant to kill him. Mr. Dodds was clubbed to death. The night sweeper died of a heart attack. Nothing more is known as yet about what happened here last night. You must all consider yourselves at the disposal of the police, till you're told otherwise. Blast them. Why didn't they say something? They were lying to these people. Nothing more was known. That's nonsense. I never was all there for them to see. It told its own story. Higbee had killed Dodds. Poor, harmless little Higbee had killed that big famous executive. And now... Mr. Wilson, will you come this way, please? Just a little routine questioning, that's all. Everybody here will have to undergo it. I must watch myself. I must go very slowly. Sit here, won't you, Mr. Wilson? Now, do you remember what time you left the office last night? Yes, yes. It was 11.30. I remember mentioning it to the elevator boy. And what time did you get home? Somewhere about half past 12, I guess. Yes, just about that time. Is there anybody who would swear to that? Well, the elevator boy. I don't mean that. Is there anyone who saw you go into your house at 12.30? I hardly think so. At that time, the streets aren't too well populated, as you know, officer. And I live in a house where people mind their own business. I don't know anybody in the house, and I doubt if anybody saw me go into it. But you can check with the elevator boy, though, as to my going home at 11.30. Yes, we have already. You weren't on the best of terms with Dodds, were you, Wilson? Oh, I was fond of him. I don't know what right you have to say a thing like that. Well, you kind of did you out of a job around here, didn't you? He was a smart man. Mr. Dodds was an exceptionally smart man. It was not at all a disgrace to lose a position to him. When I left him last night, he was an excellent help. I killed a man every time I had a job taken away from me. I'd have quite a long line of victims behind me. Of course, I'm just joking, you know. You made a phone call to him last night, didn't you? Yes, to the elevator boy. I remember suggesting that he go to a Turkish bath after he'd finished work to sort of tone up. They're very good, you know. And I mentioned that I knew a very good one that I could recommend. And then when he asked me the name of it, I couldn't think of the address of the place. And I thought of it later, though, and I phoned the building. Where'd you phone from? From a little place in the neighborhood. And about what time did you phone? Well, it was about 12.25, I guess. I was getting a little mixed up. It couldn't have been then. I was still in the building at 12.30. Ah, they were confusing me. You called at exactly 12.55. So you must have miscalculated the time of your arrival at home. However, that isn't important. None of us is expected to time ourselves from place to place, are we? When we find too good an alibi, we get kind of suspicious. Well, I don't think we'll have to bother you any more, Mr. Wilson. Thank you. He asked me to send somebody in to see him as I went out. I forget who it was. I was thinking very hard. I went into my office and sat down. So easy. Was it possible the whole thing was over and so easily? Hello there, Wilson. Very sad, this business. Very sad. Good morning, Mr. Larkin. But we must go on. Mr. Dodds would want it that way. Yes, sir, he would. It's a responsible job he had, Wilson, but you've been with us long enough to know that. Yes, sir. Do you think you can handle it? Well, sir, I think I can. Good. Get your stuff together and take over Dodds' old office. You deserve this, Wilson, and I'm sure you'll reward our confidence in you. Thank you very much, sir. Of course, I hardly expected... On second thought, I think you'd better go into his office right away and sort of straighten out some of the things on his desk. I'll have one of the boys bring your things in later. Very well, sir. Good luck. Thank you, sir. The fat pompous pig. I had me said those things before last night. They were all in the spot now. They needed poor stupid Wilson. They needed me to get them out of a hole. The further the thing went, the funnier it got. They were talking about virtue and good, counting for anything. To get ahead, you either married the boss' daughter or killed the boss. I took a pencil and a small notebook and went out into the corridor. I stood for a moment outside Dodds' office, just like last night, and then I pushed the door open slowly, the sitting room, and then the door to the office. I opened it and walked inside. I heard the door close softly behind me, and I stood there, smelling the death and the air. And then, and then, I saw it. I saw it. I tried to yell, but I couldn't get the words out. There, there in front of me, sitting in the chair, what I'd propped him last night was Tom Higbee. His eyes open, his expression blank and staring, and at his feet was the bottle and the vase, the same bottle, the same vase. Dodds was all that was missing. I turned and I bolted into the hall. Higbee? Well, what's the matter, Wilson? You look like it's in a ghost. In the office! In the office! Higbee! Higbee? My Higbee's dead, man. What's the matter? Mr. Larkin? Where's Mr. Larkin? Here I am, Wilson. What's the matter? In the office. In the office. What? I have nothing to the matter in here. I don't... I walked in after him. There was nothing there. Nothing. No Higbee. No bottle. No vase. But I saw them. I saw them. Oh! Was I going crazy? Was I beginning to go bad? I felt Larkin's path on my shoulder. He might have had something about everybody being a little touchy, a little jumpy. And then he left. And I was alone in the room. What? Be careful. Be careful. Be careful. I stood. I stared at the desk and at the chair. No one was there. No one could have been there. I must watch. What? Oh. Oh, I beg your pardon. Oh. Not at all. I seem to be in the wrong room. I'm Mrs. Charles Dodd. I'm looking for that young detective. He doesn't seem to be out here. Well, I believe he's in the end room questioning the employees. I don't suppose you'll be able to see me for a little while. Do you mind if I wait here for him? Well, I... Thank you so much. Charlie, will you tell the detective that Mrs. Dodd is waiting for him in... in my new office? Oh, you've already seated yourself. I was going to suggest that perhaps this seat might... She was sitting in his chair. There was blood in that chair. This is quite all right, thank you. Charles would have liked to see the way everybody's taking his death. Everyone is so kind to me. Mr. Dodd was a fine man. A fine man. You're Mr. Wilson, aren't you? He used to talk about you. I thought you were a very bright person. He seemed very fond of you. I don't know how I'll be able to go on without you. Mrs. Dodd, you mustn't. You mustn't. I'm sorry. He wouldn't like to see me carrying on like this, would he? We were going to buy a home in Westchester this summer. Did he ever tell you that? Yes. Just outside Yonkers. We have two lovely little ones. Toby and little Mary. He loved the New York State countryside. We talked so much about it. On, on, she rambled. He liked this. He didn't like that. The children. The children. Toby and little Mary. Toby and little Mary. She was driving me crazy. Stop it. I want her to yell. Get out of here and leave me at peace. Get out of here, you witch! Get out! Get out! Mrs. Dodd, Detective Lewis would like to see you now. Thank you for everything, Mr. Wilson. And goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. I'll have to get out and leave me alone. I hadn't meant to do anything like that. I hadn't wanted to do any of the things I was doing. All I wanted to do was to kill Dodds. All of these other things. They weren't mine. I hadn't killed Higby. He, he can't haunt me. His wife can't cry at me. Heart attack. That's it. Higby died of a heart attack. I beg your pardon, sir. Have you seen Mrs. Higby? The detective is looking for him. How would I see her? Am I everybody's guardian? How can anybody get lost in this office? Sorry, sir. Mrs. Higby. Stop it, you fool. You howling idiot. Can't you be looked for quietly? You will drag Higby from his grave with your yelling. Who is that? Who is that talking? Do they think they can make a fool of me? The office communication. It's off. Go on. Go on. Voices can't frighten me. They deserve to die. And that's why they're dead. Not Higby. I didn't kill him. His heart stopped. Do you hear me, that's all? I didn't kill him. Now you voices stop. Do you hear me? Stop it, I command. Stop it. Is something wrong, Mr. Wilson? What do you mean, is there something wrong? Do you hear them too? Well, you mustn't listen. They lie. Do you hear me? They lie. Now get out. Get out. Get out. You must talk only to me. Do you understand me? Only to me. Not to these others. Don't say anything to them. Only to me. Only to me. Well, what do you want? Well, I don't know. You think they'll say something bad about me, don't you? That's what you're waiting for, isn't it? Well, you're going to be disappointed. You see, they're quiet. What's quiet? Yeah, who's quiet? You think I'm going to tell you. They won't say anything unless I tell them to. And I'm not going to tell them to say anything. Not one little word. Last night, last night you wanted to know all about last night. Well, you asked them, but they won't tell you. Look at the expression on that face. Look at him, Lieutenant. They were there. They saw me hit him, but they won't say anything. They were there, but they won't tell you a thing. Not one little word, not a single thing. He said, jibbering it, because I'm not going to let him. I shouldn't have let you monkey around. You and your psychology. You know, you should leave that stuff in college. All I did was plant Higbee in the office and route Mrs. Dodds in here and talked into the ventilating system. You know, those voices had me creepy, too. Incidentally, Dodds was single. Why? I fear if my fiancee, she's an actress. Well, for... Well, why did you tell him Higbee was dead? No, maybe you better not explain. Psychology, huh? What are we going to do with the confession now? We should have pinched him the moment he walked in here. Maybe I'm lucky I never went to college. There's no use you waiting here. They won't tell you anything. They're mine, all mine. I tell them what to say. All right, get the wagon up here. I'm not going to walk this thing through the streets. I won't say a word. Henry Wilson, it's the judgment of this court that you be sent to the Hillview mental home and be kept there in close confinement until... The voice went. I had stopped listening to voices, all but the ones that I couldn't help hearing. That's... But I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I tell people that and they look at me query. The stupid fools. The guards here have spread the lies that I have fits. Lies. Lies, I tell you. They say every night when the moon comes up, I have fits. Loud, roaring fits. Well, they lie. Because it's them that I hear the voices. I hear Dodds and his wife and Toby and little Mary. And I sit quietly and I listen to them. Do you think I can have a fit in front of them? Do you know? No, I'd be ashamed. I tell you I'm not crazy and they lie when they tell you that they lie, all of them. They lie and they lie. Lies, lies, lies, lies. And so closes statement of employee Henry Wilson starring Jean Lockhart. Tonight's tale of suspense. This is the man in black who conveys to you Columbia's invitation to spend this half hour in suspense with us again next week. Same time. When our two distinguished stars will be Margo and Philip Dorn, they will appear in a suspense play by John Dixon Carr entitled Cabin B. 13. The producer and director of suspense is William Spear who with Lud Glusskin and Lucian Morrowick conductor and composer and John Shaw, the author, collaborated on tonight's suspense. Suspense fans, please note that this program will shortly move to a different day of the week. Suspense will come to listeners in eastern and central time zones on Thursdays beginning December 2nd and to mountain and Pacific time zone listeners on Mondays beginning December 6th. Now remember Thursdays beginning December 2nd in eastern and central time zones and Mondays beginning December 6th in the Pacific and mountain time zones for suspense. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.