Suspense!
This is the man in black, here again to introduce Colombians to the world.
Here again to introduce Colombia's program, Suspense!
Our distinguished stars tonight are two of the world's acknowledged masters of the art of suspense.
They are Mr. Charles Lawton and Miss Elsa Lanchester.
Mr. Lawton, who will soon be seen in the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer picture, The Man from Down Under,
is here to play a remarkable character, created by England's noted thriller author, Agatha Christie.
A mild-mannered character whose initials were ABC, and about whom revolved a series of savage murders,
all neatly and alphabetically arranged.
ABC was stamped upon all his belongings, those being his rightful initials,
and ABC was stamped too upon the large railway timetable he always carried.
But there was nothing so odd about that detail, since no traveler in the British Isles would dream of planning a journey
without consulting this famous railway schedule, the ABC.
And so, with the ABC murders by Agatha Christie, written for radio by Robert Tallman and William Spear,
and with the performance of Charles Lawton, we again hope to keep you in...
Suspense!
When the time for closing bell rang in the public library,
Alexander Bonaparte Cust started, picked up his battered briefcase for the almost faded initials ABC,
closed the book he had been reading, and shuffled over to the librarian's desk.
It's a most interesting book, librarian. I shall like to come back sometime and read another chapter of it, if I may.
Quite. Yes, Mr. Clark. Can I help you, sir?
No hurry.
Well, I'll be going along now. Thank you.
Brum little chap, that. What do you think he was reading? Studies in epileptic somnambulism.
Medical stuff, eh? Oh, I say, the little fellow left his briefcase. I'll catch him at the door.
I say, sir, just a moment. You left something.
Oh, dear, it's my briefcase. I'm terribly sorry. I seem to be getting more and more forgetful lately.
Why, only the other day I left it on the couch in a tobacco shop.
Lucky you have those initials. Not many people with the initials ABC sticks in your mind.
What do you mean by that, sir?
Well, after all, they're the first three letters of the alphabet. Practically the first thing we learn, you know, isn't it? Our ABCs.
Don't mention those letters to me. They've brought bad luck to me in more ways than one.
Really? How's that?
Well, I used to be a travelling salesman, and I used to carry one of those railway town tables in my pocket, the Thretney kind,
in which they list the towns and all the railroads alphabetically.
Oh, of course. Printed right on the cover, isn't it? ABC.
Yes, that's right, sir. Well, Stockings was my line, sir. I did door-to-door selling.
Whenever I finished one town, out would come that timetable, and I'd look up the next stop on my route.
I got sick of the sight of that ABC railway guide, I can tell you, sir. It was like a symbol of failure to me.
One dingy little town after another, and all listed in that railway guide with ABC printed on the cover.
My own initials staring out at me from every new stand in every dirty little railroad station in the Midlands.
Oh, come on. It couldn't have been as bad as all that.
Matter of fact, I never noticed it till I began to get the headaches.
Oh, you suffer from headaches?
Yes.
Have you seen a doctor about it?
Oh, no, no. I wouldn't want to see a doctor about it. I already know what brings the man up.
Well, if you'd rather not talk about it...
Oh, no, no. It isn't that at all, sir. It was just such a long time ago.
During the last war, in fact, Chateau Thierry.
Chateau Thierry? Oh, I see. What a coincidence. I was in the thick of that myself.
Yes, we must get together for a drink one day to talk over old times.
Franklin Clark is my name.
I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Clark. My name's Cust.
Alexander Bonaparte Cust.
Well, they must have expected great things of you, giving you a name like that.
I'm afraid they did, Mr. Clark. Yes.
I'm very much afraid they did.
Mr. Cust. Oh, Mr. Cust.
Who is it?
It's me, Mr. Cust. I've brought you out a spot of tea.
Oh, it's you, Miss Marbury. That was very thoughtful of you.
Oh, nonsense. You know, Mother Dotes on you.
You're her favourite lodger. In fact...
Why, Mr. Cust, you're patting your things.
You're not leaving us, are you?
Oh, no, I'm just taking a little trip over the bank holiday, you know.
Now, now, don't try to deceive me, Mr. Cust.
You're embarrassed about owing us, aren't you? No.
You needn't be, Mr. Cust. Really, you needn't.
Oh, you are a nice girl, Miss Marbury. You really are a nice girl.
As a matter of fact, I'm not going just for the bank holiday.
I've something rather important, some very important matter to take care of.
You know, it's very possible that my mother didn't have me christened
Alexander Bonaparte Cust for nothing.
Have you got a position, Mr. Cust? What is it?
Come, Mr. Cust. You can tell me, can't you?
Well, Miss Lillie, I can tell you this much.
I shall be travelling quite a lot.
In fact, where did I leave that ABC Railroad guide?
Oh, yes, here it is. First stop, Andover.
Andover? That's not very far.
No, no, no, but I must be getting on if I don't want to miss that train.
Now, let me see. Have I got everything?
There's the spectacles and me overcoat, me typewriter, me walking stick.
Did I ever tell you the history of this walking stick, Miss Marbury?
It's a Scottish piece, very old. It's always used as antique.
You know, they used to kill people with these
back in the days of the old clan wars in Scotland.
I wonder how many heads this one has bashed in.
Oh, Mr. Cust. Oh, please, what a terrible way to talk.
Yes, I'm sorry, Miss Marbury. I am a little bit surprised at myself talking like that.
It must be my new job. It's gone to my head a bit. That's it.
It's gone to my head. Have you got an aspirin by any chance?
I've got an order.
Yes, gentlemen? What'll it be?
A packet of Goldfix for me. Yes, sir. And the other gentlemen?
Three Havana's, the Schilling Cigars.
You gentlemen must be up from London. That's right.
Is that your name on the window of this shop?
That's right, sir. Olivia Asher.
Been in business right here in Andover and right here in St Andrew's Place for 20 years.
All A's. Andover, St Andrew's Place and Asher.
Funny, ain't it? Never so much as crossed the line before.
Well, Mrs. Asher, we're from Scotland Yard.
We have reason to believe there may be a homicidal maniac at large in Andover.
Gawd, Blonde! We don't want to frighten you, Mrs. Asher.
For all we know, this may be just a practical joke.
You see, we received an anonymous letter, typewritten, and signed A-B-C.
A-B-C?
This murderer, if there's anything in his story, is planning a series of murders.
His mania seems to be centered on the alphabet.
If he follows his plan through, his first murder will be committed in Andover.
And the victim will be a person whose name begins with an A.
The Lord help me, sir. You don't think...
We don't think anything. Scotland Yard has taken its precautions.
Oh, a woman takes a terrible chance.
There's probably nothing to be alarmed about, but it won't hurt to keep a sharp lookout.
Who's next on your list, Mackenzie?
Next is Arthur Atwood.
All right. Let's be on our way, then. Good day, madam. Don't worry.
Thank you, sir. And good day to you, sir.
A murderer lunatic in Andover of all prices.
Yes, sir. What'll it be for you, sir?
These.
That'll be one and six, sir.
I said that'll be... Oh, no, no, no!
Ah!
Sixth-thirty newspaper sensation.
Homicide of maniac in Andover.
Alphabet murderer destroying next-to-the-best-sale latest on ABC.
Oh, boy, let me have one of those.
Yes, sir. News of Stanton, sir.
Both. Here you are.
Oh, thank you, sir. Sixth-thirty newspaper sensation.
Nasty business, eh, mister?
Oh, yes. Very, very.
You never know with lunatics. They don't always look bomber, you know.
Sometimes they look the same as you on me.
Eh? Yes, I suppose they do.
Oh, it's a fact. Sometimes it's the war on Ingram.
Never been right since.
Yes, I expect you're right.
You know, I dealt old with wars. I hope this'll be the last.
You don't hold with wars, eh? Well, young man, I don't hold with plague
and sleeping sickness and famine and cancer,
but they happen all the same. And murder happens all the same.
They can't prevent them.
I'm sorry, sir. I expect you had a rocky time of it in the last one, eh?
Yes, yes. My poor head's never been the same since.
I get terrible headaches.
Oh? Well, I'm sorry about that, sir.
Sometimes I oddly know what I'm doing.
You don't say. I forget things.
You know, for instance, I could have sworn I had an ABC railway guide
in my pocket an hour ago.
Do you know they found one of them, ABC railway guides?
And the poor tobogganist lady that he murdered.
Who?
He. ABC. Whoever he is.
Maybe he don't know himself.
Let us stop to think of that.
Maybe he's so bomb he don't remember.
I wonder.
Baxill, Baxill, did you say Baxill? That's my train.
Well, goodbye, young man.
Goodbye.
MUSIC
May I have your order, sir?
Well, I don't think I'll have the air-mide.
I'm for breakfast. Yes, I think I'll have the mutton pie.
One mutton pie. Yes, sir.
What's the matter with you? You're trembling, young woman.
Is something wrong?
Oh, sir, if you only knew.
I have to walk home tonight after they close our beer.
And there ain't hardly a light in Benson Terrace where I live.
Benson, Benson Terrace in Baxill?
Yes, sir.
You're afraid of the ABC murderer, aren't you?
He follows the alphabet, don't he?
He's got a way down in Andover.
Hey, and does your name begin with a B?
Barnard's my name. Mary Barnard.
Oh, dear me, Miss Barnard.
Well, I don't like to appear forward.
Well, anyway, I'm old enough to be your father.
Would it make you feel easier if I saw you home tonight?
Oh, you don't know, sir. You just don't know what it would mean.
Well, what time do they close up here?
At nine o'clock. All right, I'll wait outside for you.
At nine o'clock? All right.
I'll be waiting outside.
Ladies, waitress brutally murdered in Baxill.
ABC strikes again. Here you are, sir.
Stotland Yard received third murder note.
Alphabet murderer to strike again in Chaston.
Here you are.
Yes, sir?
Third class single to Chaston.
Give me a pint of half and half, please.
Yes, sir.
There you are, sir.
You up from London, sir?
Yes, I come directly from London.
Ah, salesman?
Stockings is my line.
Rough going these days, what with rationing, eh?
Well, well, well.
It isn't my old friend Alexander Bonaparte Cust.
I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't remember.
We met in the library, remember? In London.
Yes, had quite a talk.
Franklin Clark, remember?
Yes, of course. You'll forgive me, Mr. Clark.
My memory, it seems to be getting worse and worse.
But you must have come under better times, Mr. Cust.
New briefcase, I see. Nice, bright new initials.
Well, I got a job shortly after I saw you, Mr. Clark,
from Ballinger Limited. Stockings is my old line, you know.
But to tell you the truth, I haven't been doing very well.
Oh, those headaches again?
Yes, the headaches. And the murders.
The murders have upset me something terrible.
Oh, why, you're shaking like a leaf, man.
No.
Hey, Jonathan, a brandy for Mr. Cust. He needs it.
Thank you, sir.
The trouble with you, Cust, is you're inclined to be morbid.
I remember that book you were reading the day we met,
stuff about epilepsy.
Well, it might be epilepsy, mightn't it?
What?
Well, they discharged me from the army before the war ended.
You see, I had a kind of a fit, you know.
Never had anything like it again, have you?
No, I didn't have a fit again, just the headaches.
I forget what happens hours at a time.
Do you know, once I was sitting in a station waiting room
and a newsboy came by and I bought a paper from him,
it was all about that first murder in Andover.
It said the police had got another note,
another typewritten note, Mr. Clark,
and the murderer was going to strike next in Bexhill.
And suddenly I realized I was in Bexhill.
And I'd been in Andover the day before when the first murder happened.
How did you happen to go from Andover to Bexhill?
Well, that's the way I'm supposed to go, on my route,
selling the stockings.
I'm supposed to take the towns alphabetically.
Oh, well, then it's not so surprising
you should have been in Bexhill after all, is it?
Just a coincidence.
Well, the waitress in Bexhill there, I...
I walked home with her that night, Mr. Clark,
the night she was murdered.
Oh, good heavens, Cust,
you don't think you killed Mary Barnard, do you?
I don't know, Mr. Clark.
It's said in that book that people who have had epileptic fits
often do things and don't remember them.
They even commit crimes.
I said good night to her, and after that I don't know what...
Well, now, look, the notes, those typewritten notes,
wouldn't you have remembered if you'd written them?
I don't know.
Well, now, I know a little something about psychology myself, Cust,
and I'd stake everything I own on the fact that the man who wrote those notes
was conscious of what he was doing.
Do you really think so, Mr. Clark?
Positive of it.
Now, pull yourself together, man.
Incidentally, my sister-in-law lives here in Churston.
My brother is Lord Cameron Clark,
and I have to know she needs some new stockings.
Pop over there in the morning, will you, and show the old girl your line?
Here, here's the address.
Might cheer you up to make a good sale.
Oh, I'm sure it would, Mr. Clark, I'm sure it would.
Well, good night, Mr. Clark,
and thank you again for all your kindness, I'm sure, Cust.
Good night. Good night.
Oh, wait a minute, you've forgotten something again.
Oh, dear me, that's my typewriter.
I shall certainly need that.
Oh?
Oh, well, it's to type up my report to the home office
in case I should make that sale tomorrow.
Oh, of course. Oh, yes, yes. By the way, Cust,
better watch out.
Somebody in Churston is going to be murdered tomorrow.
Old A, B, C is up to the letter C, you know,
and your name is Cust.
Oh, I see. Good heavens.
Mine is Clark.
Well, thank you again for your generous order, Lady Clark.
I hope you'll be pleased.
This line of woollen line of stockings is one of
Barringer's best buys right now, Lady Clark.
My brother-in-law told me that you'd had some unfortunate times
lately, Mr. Clark, but I really did need the stockings,
and I shall be...
Hello again, Cust.
I'll be stuffing myself with bacon and eggs.
Make a sale, old boy?
Oh, yes, Mr. Clark, thank you very much.
Good, good. Louise is filthy with money,
and her ladyship's legs are in constant need of recovering.
Oh, I wouldn't say that.
Yes, really, she wanted the stockings.
Well, thank you very much, my lady.
I hope I shall have the privilege of serving you again next year.
Goodbye, Mr. Cust, and good luck.
Cheerio, Cust.
Such a nice little man, Franklin.
He's a bit off his nut, I'm afraid.
Last night he tried to convince me that he was the ABC murderer.
His initials, you know.
He has minor lapses of memory.
That little man, a murderer? Oh, really, Franklin.
Good Lord, what was that?
One of the maids.
Where is that girl? What's going on?
In the master's bedroom, my lady.
You'd better go with her, Mr. Franklin.
Brothers, what ever are you doing here?
Oh, my lady, the master, Lord Clark,
has been murdered, stabbed with a knife,
and bled to death.
Murder? Good heavens.
Why, look, look there on the floor.
A railway guide, an ABC.
Take me out of here, Franklin.
Oh, Louise, I'm sorry you had to see this.
Oh, Cameron, my poor Cameron.
He never made an enemy in his life.
The man who did this was a maniac.
And I'm afraid I know who he is.
He always carried a walking stick
with a heavy carved handle.
That's how the other murders were committed,
with a heavy stick.
But he wasn't carrying his stick today.
Must have grabbed a knife up there somewhere
to kill Cameron with.
But when?
Were you with him every minute?
Well, I went upstairs to get my checkbook.
It took me a little while to find it.
That gave Custy's opening.
Oh, to think that all that time.
Oh, no. No, I'll never forgive myself, Franklin.
No, none of that now, Louise.
The important thing now is to stop him
before he can commit another murder.
But what are you going to do, Franklin?
I'm going to the police
and see if they'll let me help.
Let's have a look at this ABC railway guide
he left beside poor Cameron.
Hmm.
Look here. All checked.
See there?
Andover, Bexhill, Churston.
Each with a check mark after it.
Oh.
Where's the next one?
Ah, see? See London.
He's through with ABC.
He's gone home, and I'm going after him.
Yes?
Well, Mr. Cust, come in.
What ever kept you away so long?
Miss Lily, I've got to talk to you alone.
Oh, well, I'll go up with you.
I want to show you the new curtains
I put up in your room anyway.
Oh, you are a nice girl, Miss Lily.
Really, you are a nice girl.
Let me carry one of these, Mr. Cust.
The typewriter.
No, no, no. I'll carry my own things.
Thank you.
Oh, Mr. Cust, you're trembling.
Oh dear, you do look a fright.
Look, I'm going to straighten you a hot foot bath.
No, no, not now, please.
Not now, Miss Lily.
There's no time for it.
What is it, Mr. Cust?
Close the door and lock it.
Are you in some trouble, Mr. Cust?
I'm in terrible trouble, Miss Lily.
I want you to hear the story first from me.
You're the only one who has ever been my friend.
Oh, I've had a lonely life, Miss Lily.
Oh, poor Mr. Cust.
Poor Mr. Cust.
That's what they always say about me.
Poor Mr. Cust.
I thought you were different.
Oh, don't take on so, Mr. Cust.
It was only a manner of speaking.
Oh, you don't need to worry.
I'm all right now.
I never get two spells in one day.
Spells?
Mr. Cust, I don't understand.
What do you...
Well, you heard of the ABC murders.
Shocking affairs.
But, Mr. Cust, why are you saying...
Miss Lily, the police will be here at any minute.
Please let me finish.
I don't want you to think harshly of me, Miss Lily.
I'm sorry.
I didn't plan it ahead.
My instructions told me where to go.
Some people can't help what they do.
There are diseases.
Epilepsy, for instance.
You do things you don't remember.
You commit crimes.
I'm like that.
Oh, Mr. Cust, I can't believe it!
When I was a child, Miss Lily, they used to badger me about my name.
My mother worshipped strength.
She named me after the strongest people she knew about in history.
Alexander and Bonaparte.
But nobody ever called me by those names.
They called me ABC.
ABC!
C-A-B-C.
I used to dream I was boiling in a kettle of alphabet soup.
I was a terrible disappointment to my mother.
Mr. Cust, you're unsettled and tired.
You've got to hear me out, Miss Lily.
Oh, my eyes!
Now listen to me, Miss Lily.
I could have been a hero once in the army in the last war.
I was happy.
I could have made something of myself.
Then I started getting the headache.
Let me go, Mr. Cust!
You must hear me out, Miss Lily.
I started forgetting things after they discharged me
from the army.
Shut, they called it.
I used to have dreams.
I was a great ruler.
The destiny of men was in my hands.
I had the power over them of life and death.
Let me go!
Please let me go!
First there was Andover, that tobacco list.
I can't even remember what she looked like.
Then there was Bexhill.
I walked home with a waitress from the station restaurant.
She was murdered, too.
In Cheston, I sold a dozen pair of stockings to a lady.
And while she was upstairs getting her checkbook,
her husband was murdered on the floor where I was waiting.
And now I've come back here.
Maybe the alphabet charm is over.
Or is it?
This is London.
L, your name is Lily.
Are you trying to frighten me, Mr. Cust?
I am trying to convince you.
You, murderer?
Ha, ha, ha.
I'd soon believe it.
My own mother.
What about this?
Look at it.
Oh, no, no.
Look closely at it.
I found it in my briefcase when I came on the train, Miss Lily.
This knife murdered a man in Cheston just three hours ago.
No!
Ah!
Oh, no.
There, there, Miss Marbury.
Don't take that on yourself.
He's all hand-cut pretty as you please in the next room.
But he was such a nice man.
I still can't hardly believe it.
Is this the knife he threatened you with, Miss Marbury?
Yes.
What have you got here in the nick of time, Ethan?
Hey, that's a wicked-looking knife.
It's the Cheston murder knife right enough, Mr. Clark.
No doubt of it.
Well, let's take inventory.
Typewriter.
Checks with the murder notes.
Walking stick.
Same markings as on the heads of the first victims.
And the psychiatrist's report says the murders were premeditated
and the notes could not possibly have been written
except by a person who was conscious and in his right mind.
Well, that breaks down any idea Cust may have had
of entering an insanity plea.
Right.
I think he'll sign the confession without any difficulty.
Bring him in.
Bring the prisoner in.
Well, Cust, are you ready to sign your confession?
I don't know, Inspector.
A moment ago I was certain I must have done it.
But why?
That's what worries me.
Why?
Mr. Clark, why do you think I did it?
You're wasting valuable time, Cust.
I don't care why you did it.
You killed my brother and I want to see you hang for it.
I don't care how balmy you are.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself
talking to our Mr. Cust in that bloodthirsty manner.
I don't know what you're thinking.
I don't know what's getting into the gentry, I'm sure.
He tried to murder you, didn't he?
Well, he couldn't help himself, poor thing.
He's been terribly upset of late.
You are a nice girl, Miss Lily.
You are a nice girl.
The murders were willful and premeditated.
They couldn't have been premeditated, Mr. Clark.
Why do you say that, Cust?
Well, because I didn't go to any of those places of my own choice.
I had my instructions from Bellingers Limited.
And those instructions were sent to me after the police got the warnings
of the murders that were printed in the papers.
There never were any such instructions.
We ransacked all your things, Cust.
There wasn't any letter of instructions, was there, Inspector?
No.
Oh, yes, there was.
All right, we'll ring up Bellingers.
May I use your telephone, Miss Marbury?
Oh, certainly, Inspector.
The number is Regent 3313, Inspector.
Bellingers, are you there?
Get me on to personnel.
Oh, Mac, start packing those exhibits, will you?
Aye, aye, sir.
Chrome speaking, Scotland Yard.
At what date did you employ a commercial traveler named Alexander Bonaparte Cust?
No, Cust.
A.B. Cust.
Initials A, B, C.
Yes, yes.
Never employed by you.
You're absolutely certain?
Did you send a man to Andover or Bexhill last week?
Not on your route.
Thank you.
That's all I wanted to know.
Too bad, Cust.
I guess this knocks out your last ghost of a chance, doesn't it?
No, Mr. Clark.
Because you see, the instructions were in a letter, and that letter is right in this room.
Well, let's have a look.
Come on, Mackenzie, give me a hand.
Let's go through these things again.
It won't do you any good to look there, Mr. Clark.
I have the letter.
Would you like to see it, Mr. Chrome?
Let's see it.
Well, I'll be...
Where did you get that?
It wasn't on him, Inspector.
I'll swear to that.
Where did you have this hidden?
Well, Inspector, it isn't generally known, but I do wear a smaller hairpiece.
Not out of benefit of mind, do I find it necessary for the business?
Let's see that letter.
Oh, gladly.
Dear Mr. Cust, in close, fine advance, typewriter is being posted today.
You will...
What a lot of nonsense, Inspector.
Look at the typeface of the letter.
It's obviously written on Cust's typewriter.
Yes, that's right, Mr. Clark.
And the man who wrote that letter was the murderer.
Cool as you like, he sent the typewriter to me and instructions on one of Ballinger's letterheads and the money and everything else.
What kind of stunt are you trying to pull here, Cust?
No stunt.
It's just that when you made that telephone call, Inspector, and Ballinger said I'd never worked for them,
I knew that the typewriter must have been sent to me by the murderer.
And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that the murderer must be Mr. Clark.
What?
This is too utterly fantastic, Inspector, really.
Well, the murderer would have to know something about me, something I'd never confided to anyone but to Mr. Clark, about my... well, my headaches.
I'd been reading a book in the public library, Inspector, a book on epilepsy,
and it seemed to me that what I suffered during the last war might have been epilepsy.
And it was on my mind, see?
It said that epileptics might commit crimes and not remember them under certain conditions.
Without that to go on, the murderer couldn't possibly have pinned the crime on me.
That works two ways, Cust. You might have told me that story deliberately, just so you could cook up this story now.
Well, I couldn't cook up your fingerprints, Mr. Clark, and I'll wager anything. Your fingerprints are on that letter.
Ah, calm down, really.
Well, that's easily settled. We can do it right here.
Won't take a moment. Take a set of Mr. Clark's fingerprints, Mackenzie. You examine the prints in the letter meantime.
Right, Inspector. Just press your fingers down firmly on this ink pad, Mr. Clark.
What is it, Mr. Clark? It's quite simple, really.
Yes, yes, it's so simple it isn't even necessary.
I'm afraid this is necessary, Mr. Clark. Only a matter of routine, you know.
I tell you it isn't necessary because Cust is right. I am the murderer.
You? But wait, then, you killed your brother Cameron Clark so that you would inherit the estate?
Yes, exactly.
But the others, the A and B murders in Andover and Bexhill and...
I committed them, all of them.
Yes, but...
Come now, gentlemen. Surely you'll give me credit for thinking this thing through.
If only my brother, Lord Clark, had been murdered, I, being the only heir, would have had a lot of explaining to do.
So I invented my own little crime wave to make it appear as though he were just one of the victims of a homicidal maniac.
And I must say, it almost came out thanks to the unknowing cooperation of Mr. Cust here.
Thank you just the same, Mr. Cust.
You're very welcome. I mean...
Oh, Mr. Cust, I knew you couldn't be a murderer, not really.
Oh, you are a nice girl, Miss Lily, really, you are a nice girl.
You forgot those headaches, Mr. Cust. Why don't you go to an oculist? Those headaches.
Maybe you just need a new pair of glasses.
I think I'll do that, Miss Lily. Do you really think...
Of course, I'll wait till that's what's been the trouble with me all of these clothes.
You know, you need someone to take care of you.
Oh, I do, Miss Lily, I do, really. If only you... Oh, but no, you couldn't ever think of...
What, Mr. Cust?
Well, I mean, Miss Lily, I was just thinking it would be really too much to ask anyone.
Mrs. Alexander Bonaparte Cust...
But when we're married, please don't wear that toupee. It's very conspicuous.
Oh, you are a nice girl, Miss Smith, really, you are. I do hope people won't call you Mrs. ABC.
And so closes the ABC Murders, starring Charles Lawton with Elsa Lanchester and Bramwell Fletcher.
Tonight's tale of suspense.
This is your narrator, the man in black, who conveys to you Columbia's invitation to spend this half hour in suspense with us again next Tuesday,
when Agnes Moorhead will return to our stage as star of the suspense play called She Overheard Murder Speaking.
The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear, with Ted Bliss, the director,
Lud Cluskin and Lucian Mahawick, conductor and composer, and Robert Tallman, the radio author, collaborated on tonight's suspense.
This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.