Suspense.
This is the man in black, here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense.
With us in Hollywood tonight as star is Mr. Otto Kruger, whose career on the screen and
on the stage has afforded him a precisely equal number of appearances as a character
on the right and on the wrong side of the law.
Whether the man Mr. Kruger portrays tonight is devil or saint, we shall leave for you
to judge when the play is over.
It is called After Dinner Story.
The author is Cornell Woolrich, the radio adapter Robert L. Richards.
So with the performance of Otto Kruger as Mr. Hardecker, who told this extraordinary
After Dinner Story, we again hope to keep you in Suspense.
Mr. Hardecker's residence.
I believe I'm expected for dinner.
Your name, sir?
Ken Shaw, is my name.
Very good, sir.
Mr. Hardecker, Mr. Ken Shaw, sir.
Ah, number one.
Good evening, Mr. Ken Shaw.
Is this where Mr. Hardecker lives?
My name is Lambert.
Mr. Hardecker, Mr. Lambert.
Number two.
My name is Prendergast.
I think I...
Mr. Hardecker, Mr. Prendergast.
Number three.
Mackenzie's a name.
Mr. Hardecker, Mr. Mackenzie.
Number four.
One, two, three, four.
So you're all here, gentlemen?
Yes.
Then suppose we go into dinner.
After dinner, I shall tell you why you are here, what I have in mind.
In fact, I shall tell you in the form of a story, a sort of after dinner story.
Well, gentlemen, did you enjoy your dinner?
Yeah, it was great.
Well, then, if you'll excuse me for just a moment, I have certain instructions to give
the servants, and after that, I shall rejoin you.
I shan't be long.
Certainly.
Well, what did that crack mean?
I mean, instructions to the servants.
How should I know?
I don't like the looks of the whole thing.
Why all the mystery?
Well, I suggest that you have patience, Mr. Prendergast.
Mr. Hardecker clearly intends to tell us in his own good time.
Yeah, and another thing.
I don't eat in those fancy Park Avenue joints as a rule myself, but I've seen them in the
movies.
They always pass the food around to everybody.
They don't just bring it out of the kitchen already on your plate and just hand it to you.
What possible difference can that make?
Well, I don't know, but I know it ain't right.
Oh, none of it's right.
Why does a man invite four perfect strangers to dinner?
What is this thing he has in mind for us he keeps talking about?
Well, all I know, he says he'll make it worth our while, and I can use a little of that
worth your while stuff the way business has been lately.
Obviously, the connection between us is that we were all in that elevator a year ago.
Oh, what of it?
There's no mystery about that.
The police cleared that up the very next day.
Maybe Mr. Hardecker doesn't think so.
Sorry to have kept you, gentlemen.
Now, suppose we get down to business.
Mr. Hardecker, none of us wish to seem rude, but we were just wondering what this business
is all about.
You have had... you had come to the obvious conclusion, of course, that it has to do with
my son.
Well, yeah.
I don't see why we're...
Well, sorry, naturally, but that's all over and done, whether I...
Yes, almost.
But there are one or two little details that I thought you, gentlemen, might help me to
clarify.
Oh, sure.
Oh, well.
Fine.
Well, then, if you don't mind, I know you must remember most of it, but it's almost
a year ago.
I'd like to go over the whole story from the beginning.
Well, that's all right.
Well, it was just about... just before five in the afternoon on August 30th of last year
when the matter which concerns us here this evening had its beginning.
And on that day, and at that time, all four of you perfect strangers who had never seen
each other before in your lives found yourselves, for personal and business reasons of your
own, on various floors of the Norfolk building in midtown Manhattan, waiting for the express
elevator to take you to the lobby.
The first passengers were on the 21st floor.
21, going down, please.
Express car, going down.
There are now three men in the elevator.
The operator, Mr. Kenshaw and Mr. Lambert, who had gotten on at the 21st floor.
18, going down, please.
Face the doors, please.
Going down.
Now there are five men in the car.
Mr. Prendergast and Mr. McKenzie had entered the elevator at the 18th floor.
15, express car to the lobby.
Going down, please.
Say hello to Eleanor for me.
You bet.
Bye, Dad.
Bye.
Six men in the elevator.
The last to enter, I had accompanied to the elevator door myself.
He was my son.
These things drop pretty fast.
Too fast for me.
Hey, this baby is moving.
Hey, look.
We can't stop it.
We're out of control.
Look out, we're going to hit.
Where's the baby?
Hey, anybody got a match?
I think my leg's broken.
Get me out of here.
I've got a wife and kids.
Somebody get me out of here.
Shut up a minute, can't you?
It's so dark.
You're not the only one with a wife and kids.
Has anybody got a match?
We've got to get this door open.
I don't have any.
Why would I suffocate in here?
These things are practically airtight.
Where's the operator?
Operator?
He's over here.
I can feel the braid on his coat against my hand.
What about it, bud?
You got a match so I can see what I'm doing here?
Hey, operator.
He's dead.
Dead?
Why doesn't somebody come?
What's the matter with them?
Why don't they come?
Pipe it down.
When will you pipe down?
There I got it.
We'll get a little air anyway.
There's a light up there somewhere.
Yeah, I can hear voices.
You hear them?
Help!
Say, there's no use yelling your head off.
They know we're down here.
I wish my leg didn't hurt so bad.
Let's see.
Try wrapping your shirt around it tight.
May stop some of the pain.
Thanks.
There, easy.
Now what?
Nothing.
Just sit and wait, that's all.
Why don't they hurry?
What are they waiting for?
Why don't they hurry?
Take it easy.
You could be worse off.
Worse off?
Yeah.
Like this poor guy, the operator.
He's dead.
And so you waited.
Six months.
And you waited.
Six men, five living, one dead.
I know how it must have been.
For all of you, the minutes dragging by,
out at night, June 15th, year 9.
How's your leg?
Better.
How long do you suppose we've been down here?
It's hard to tell.
Maybe they think we're all dead.
Maybe they're just taking their time.
Don't worry.
They heard your hollerin' all right.
Gee, the poor guy.
I, I wonder if he had any kids.
The operator?
Yeah.
I, I often wonder,
what would happen if one of these things ever slipped.
Well now you know, I'll never ride in one again.
So he's gonna walk up 68 stories to the Rainbow Room.
I don't go to the Rainbow Room.
Oh, I'm certainly glad my father didn't get on this car, wouldn't he?
He was going to, but it changed his mind.
Wish I'd changed my mind.
You know, if I hadn't gone back to make a phone call, I'd have been on another car.
What's the use of wishing? It's happened and here we are.
Listen, there they are!
They're gonna get us out!
Hello! Hello up there!
Yeah, yeah, we're coming to you. Take it easy.
Hurry, can't you hurry? Hurry!
We'll hurry. Anybody hurt?
Yeah, one guy's dead.
We'll be through to you in a minute.
Okay, Ryder, let it on.
Look, look at that light up there.
They're settling torches.
Yeah, they're gonna cut a hole in the roof.
What a racket.
I'm nearly deaf already.
Listen, you guys, we're coming through, see?
Watch out for sparks.
Shut your eyes and stand back against the wall.
Okay.
I never knew those things made so much noise.
It's because we're close in.
No! No!
What was that?
I don't know.
I thought I heard somebody holler.
Yeah, so did I.
Must have been one of those guys up above.
Those sparks are enough to blind you.
Don't look at them. They will blind you.
One went right by in front of my face, right across the car.
They couldn't have. They're dropping down.
If you see it, it was all for price.
Just a reflection. Don't look at it.
I guess they got it cut through.
Phew, yeah.
Couldn't have stood much more of that.
They're pulling off the top. It won't be long now.
All right. One more. One more.
All right.
All right. Stand clear down there.
I'm going to jump down.
Hey, cop.
And no cop ever looked lovelier.
All right. Pass them ropes down now.
Okay, hold it.
All right. Who's first now?
Who's the worst heart of your dog?
How about this fella?
That's the operator. He's dead.
Hey, look. Those other two guys have both passed out.
Yeah, shocking.
I'm going to get out of here. I feel pretty bad.
Hold your horses. There's nothing wrong with you.
But I...
That man's got a broken leg.
Who's got a broken leg?
I have, I think.
All right. Can you sit in this rope sling here?
Now hang on with both your hands.
I'll be all right.
Okay. Pull him up.
Well, so long, fellas.
Take care of that leg.
Thanks. Yeah, thanks.
My name's Lambert.
And mine's Mackenzie. Maybe we'll run into each other sometime.
Yeah. Well, so long.
So long.
All right. Let me have that rope now.
Well, who's next now?
Maybe you'd better take those two guys that passed out.
They might be hurt.
Well, sure. How about this young fella?
Sure. He's got a little blood on him, hasn't he?
He has that.
Glass from the light fixtures, I guess.
I don't think it's serious.
You don't, eh?
No, he seemed to be all right.
Well, whatever he seemed to be, he's not now.
This man is dead.
Dead?
Well, but he can't be.
Look, here, my lad, you don't seem to realize
that you've come through a pretty serious accident.
I know, but he can't be dead.
We heard him talking just a few minutes ago. Isn't that right?
Yes, I heard him.
Well, sure. He was talking. He was here in the dark.
He said something about being glad his father wasn't on this elevator.
I can't help what he said or what you heard him say.
This man is dead.
My son, who had survived the original accident
without apparent injury, was dead.
You gentlemen were more fortunate. You lived.
Five days later, you four met again.
It was a police headquarter, about 2.30 on a Friday afternoon.
The last to arrive was Mr. Lambert.
In here, Mr. Lambert. Thanks.
Hello there.
Hi, fellas.
Hey.
Hello.
Hello there.
How's the leg?
Pretty good.
Mr. Lambert?
That's right.
I'm Chief Inspector McMahon.
How do?
You'll just take a seat there.
Well, we're all here now.
Mr. Ken Chow, Mr. Pendergast, Mr. McKendree, Mr. Lambert.
Yes, sir.
Well, now, as I told each of you over the phone,
I won't keep you very long.
I just wanted to ask a few routine questions
about that business of the elevator the other day.
What's the matter? Something phony about it?
No, not for our money. It's an open and shut case.
Suicide.
Suicide?
Yeah.
You mean the operator wanted to bump himself off so he could...
No, no, no, no. Not the operator.
He died of a fractured skull.
It's young Hardiker we're interested in.
His father's been raising a row, so we said we'd investigate, but...
I still don't get it.
Wesley Hardiker was killed by a.32 caliber bullet through the heart.
What?
You mean he killed himself right in that car with all of us around?
What else?
He wasn't shot when he walked in, and he was dead when we brought him out.
Unless one of you killed him.
Oh, no.
Any of you know him?
No.
Well, then, there you are.
Even the father had to admit that as far as he knew,
his son had never seen any of you before in his life.
But it don't make sense.
What don't make sense?
Well, I mean, a guy shooting himself in an elevator
with four other people that nobody didn't even know it.
Did any of you hear the shot?
Not before they started the blowtorches.
I can swear to that, couldn't have heard one anyway.
Oh, you see.
Hey, wait a minute.
Did you hear something?
No.
But McKenzie, remember I said when I was laying on the floor of the elevator
that I thought I saw a spark from one of those blowtorches
that went across the car instead of falling down?
That's right.
Anybody else see it?
The blowtorches were absolutely blinding. You couldn't see a...
How about you, Mr. Kenshaw?
Oh, I'm afraid that I fainted or something silly like that.
I'm not a very strong person.
Well, it was probably the gunshot or that.
Nothing very mysterious about it.
The gun belonged to young Hartaker,
licensed in his name and had only his own finger prints on it.
Well, maybe I shouldn't ask, but why did he do it?
The official verdict is suicide while of unsound mind.
He seemed all right.
He talked to us perfectly sensibly just before it happened.
Just goes to show. You never can tell, can you?
Oh, he'd always been nervous and highly strong.
We got that out of his father.
The strain of being down on that black pit was just too much for him, that's all.
Oh, but what a terrible thing to break down just as we were about to be rescued.
Yeah, but it's too bad.
Boys seem to have everything to live for, too.
What do we find that sort of thing all the time?
The noise, I suppose.
I've read of cases of nervous breakdown caused by noise.
Yeah, that's it.
Well, I guess I don't need to keep you gentlemen any longer.
I'm certainly glad there were no complications.
No, don't worry.
If it had anything to do with it, you'd be back in the cell right now.
That was almost a year ago.
Last week, each of you received a phone call from me.
I can well understand and sympathize with the fact that you were somewhat astonished,
perhaps a little suspicious of what you heard.
I don't doubt that most of you debated at some length in your minds
the advisability of accepting my invitation at all.
You, for instance, Mr. Mackenzie, you are married, as I remember.
I imagine that you talked quite seriously with your wife about the whole affair.
I phoned your home, I believe, at about 8.30 last Monday evening.
Yes? This is Mr. Mackenzie speaking.
Well, I'm sorry, but I don't seem to place you.
Oh, of course, Mr. Hardigan.
Well, frankly, I don't see the point.
You don't know me, and I don't know you.
Yeah. Yeah, I see.
Well, all right, Mr. Hardigan, I'll be there.
That's a funny name.
Who was it, dear?
His name is Hardigan, the father of that boy who killed himself in the elevator last year.
Oh? Well, what did he want?
He wanted me to come to dinner with him on Saturday at his home.
Why, how lovely. He's a very important man, isn't he? Did he ask both of you?
No. As a matter of fact, he's asking the four men who were in that elevator with his son when he died.
What a strange idea. Seems sort of gruesome to me.
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Didn't he say anything?
Oh, he didn't quite a lot.
Well, what did he say?
Just thinking.
Oh, now please, Stephen, don't sit there and be so tantalizing. What did he say?
Well, he said something about his son's estate.
Seems his son had quite a lot of money in his own right.
The old man said he didn't need it, and weren't any other relations, and...
Well, he sort of hinted that he thought it might be a good idea to split it up between the four men who were with his son in his last moments of life, as he put it.
Why, Stephen, how wonderful. Why aren't you excited? How much is it? You suppose it's a lot of money?
I don't know.
Why, it might be several thousand dollars. It might be several hundred thousand dollars.
Oh, Stephen, what's the matter with you?
Well, just such a crazy thing to do, that's all.
I don't see that that makes any difference. If a man wants to do a nice, kind, generous thing...
Look, honey, if it was generosity, he'd give it to charity.
But with a sort of memorial to his son, he'd set up a scholarship or build a hospital or something.
Well...
The old man was pretty broken up about it when it happened.
I remember reading something about his being in a sanitarium for a while afterwards, and he never did believe the verdict of suicide.
The police might have just told us that at the time.
How do I know he doesn't think one of us killed the boy?
That's absurd.
All right, but anybody who's crazy enough to divide up a wad of dough between four perfect strangers is crazy enough to think a perfect stranger killed his son.
Oh, by that...
Maybe he thinks we all did it.
Maybe he's wacky and has some crazy idea about revenge and is going to use the dough as bait to get us all together.
I haven't thought of it like that. Perhaps you ought not to go.
I already said I would.
Anyway, maybe it's on the level.
Stephen, do you still have that gun you used to have when you worked at the bank?
Yeah, I have it there.
I think you ought to take it with you Saturday night.
Honey, I think you've got something there.
I think that's a very good idea.
And so, gentlemen, I'm quite gratified that you all saw fit to accept my rather unique invitation and that we are all here together this evening.
By the way, Mr. McKenzie, I'm afraid I must ask you to give me that gun that you brought along.
So that's it.
And, Mr. McKenzie, you will notice that one of my servants who is standing in the door directly behind you has got you covered, is the phrase, I believe.
Oh, okay.
Thank you.
How did you know?
Why, the butler sort of patted all your pockets when you removed your coats.
But aside from that, I've spent most of my waking hours during the past year looking into the backgrounds of all you gentlemen.
So I was right about this setup after all.
Now look here, Mr. Hardecker, I came here tonight in perfectly good faith.
I even cancel a very important business appointment.
With Mr. Joseph Donahue of Celluloid Products.
Yes.
All right, let's cut out the mystery. What's this all about?
Yes, what's the idea?
No, wait a minute. One moment, gentlemen. One moment.
I didn't ask you up here under false pretenses.
I fully intend to divide my son's estate precisely as I suggested over the phone.
I sincerely hope you don't resent my investigation of your backgrounds.
Well, gee, Mr. Hardecker, my background isn't much, I guess, but...
Perhaps we all owe you an apology, Mr. Hardecker, but you must admit the whole thing's been a little strange.
It has indeed been very strange.
I think, however, that that phase of the matter is about over.
Now, before we get down to business, there is one detail that I'd like you to help clear me up.
Why, sir?
Sure, what is it?
Shall I bring it in now, sir?
If you please. Is it well mixed?
Yes, sir.
In the center of the table.
Thank you, Johnson. Now, please see that we are not disturbed on any account whatsoever.
Yes, sir.
Dang, that looks good. What is it?
Oh, it's got quite a number of things in it. White of egg, mustard, milk.
It sounds like an antidote for poison.
It is an antidote for poison.
A what?
Gentlemen, there is a murderer in this room.
One of you killed my son and hasn't paid for it yet.
Don't be a fool. The coroner's verdict was suicide.
This is not a discussion, Mr. Mackenzie. This is an execution.
I'm getting out of here.
There is a man with a gun outside each door. You'll find them very unreceptive to that idea, Mr. Prendergat.
Sit down. He's got us.
Well, I...
The only thing we can do is try to talk a little sensitively.
I'm not open to arguments, Mr. Mackenzie. One of you killed my son.
I know who that man is.
It's taken me a year to find out, but I now know the food that man ate tonight was poison.
Yeah, now, but...
In ten minutes, he'll drop dead.
You can't take the law into your own hands that way.
Unfortunately, the law demands a very specific type of evidence.
The police, whom I consulted repeatedly, do not believe it possible to get a conviction on the evidence I have.
And therefore, the conviction must come tonight.
Wait, you wouldn't dare. You couldn't kill a man in cold blood that way.
There is an alternative, Mr. Prendergat.
It is there in the center of the table. The antidote.
The murderer may either confess his crime by drinking the contents of that bowl, or...
He may keep silent and go to his death here tonight, privately executed for what cannot be publicly proved.
They could send you to the chair for that.
I am quite aware of that contingency, Mr. Crenshaw, and quite willing to accept the consequences.
But the murderer will have gone to his death before me.
But how do we know you poisoned the right...
The murderer knows, Mr. Prendergat. The rest need have no fear.
Hey, I think the guy's crazy. Maybe he poisoned all of us.
Look, Mr. Hardiker, this whole thing is insane. Nobody killed your son.
As to that, we shall shortly see, Mr. Mackenzie.
The man who killed my son has approximately seven minutes to live.
Seven minutes? It's me. I know it's me he's poisoned. My whole insides are on fire. It's me he's poisoned.
Now, don't fall for it, Mr. Shure. The whole thing may be a gag.
I assure you, nothing has ever been more serious, Mr. Mackenzie.
You know, I know it feels so good myself.
Neither do I. Probably just indigestion.
After dinner, a story like this is enough to give indigestion to a horse.
No kidding. Hey, I suppose this guy's a maniac.
I suppose he just made it all up in his own head and poisoned all of us.
Listen, Mr. Hardiker, let me just tell you this.
If I come out of this alive, I'm going to beat your brains out of it. It's the last thing I do.
I can't stand it. Mr. Hardiker, I didn't do it. I swear I didn't. I didn't do it. I didn't.
Shut up, Mr. Hardiker. Shut up.
Five more minutes.
Hey, I feel awful. Maybe we all ought to take some of that stuff, just in case.
Yeah, that's it. We'll all take it. Yeah, who'll take it first?
Unfortunately, gentlemen, there's only enough antidote for one.
Even if you're right, Hardiker, this is no way to do... This is my way.
You're crazy, I tell you. Crazy. Perhaps.
Have you a son?
Oh!
Kensho!
Will it save me?
Well, gentlemen, now you know.
All right. All right, what do I care? I killed him. And I do it again.
I hated him. Hated him. All my life.
In school, in college, he never even knew that I existed.
He was too good for someone like me. And he had everything.
Money, everything. And he married the girl that I loved.
She didn't know how I felt. I never told her.
And then she died.
In the morning, they said. She wouldn't have died if she hadn't married him.
So I killed him. I saw him, didn't see anything.
And then it failed. It failed.
It was as though God had delivered it into my hand.
It came to me there in the dark.
I choked him. I choked him, and then he got out his gun.
I put my hand over his, and I turned it against him, and fired.
But I'm glad. I'm glad.
Look, help him somebody. Help him. Here. Pull up his head. Here.
Never mind. He's dead.
It didn't work in time.
You killed him, Haruka.
No, I didn't.
I tell you, he's dead.
Yes, I know. But what he drank was not the antidote. It was the poison.
Poison?
You see, I didn't exactly know which of you killed my son.
I only knew that one of you must have.
And so Robert Kenshaw convicted himself in front of all of you, and was his own executioner.
But then he was never poisoned at all? Until...
Until he drank the contents of that bowl.
Gee.
I shall divide the estate, gentlemen, as I promised.
Meanwhile, you may call the police if you like.
Let the law and divine providence decide whether this man died by my hand,
or by the guilt that lay upon his own soul.
And so closes After Dinner Story by Cornell Woolrich, starring Otto Kruger.
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 star will be Gene Lockhart in the suspense play called Statement of Employee Henry Wilson.
The producer of suspense is William Spear, who tonight also directed the broadcast,
and who with Ludd Gluston and Lucian Morrowick, conductor and composer,
and Robert L. Richard, the radio author, collaborated on tonight's suspense.
Make a note on your calendar that beginning December 2nd,
suspense will come to you on Thursday evenings at 8 p.m. Eastern wartime,
7 p.m. Central wartime, and 6 p.m. Mountain wartime.
Remember, suspense will be heard on Thursday nights beginning December 2nd.
This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.