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Suspense!
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Suspense!
Tonight from Hollywood, Roma wines bring you as stars two of the screen's most distinguished actors.
Mr. Thomas Mitchell and Mr. Donald Crisp.
They appear this evening in a play written for suspense by Robert Tallman,
in which psychiatry is called upon to deal with a sick mind, which has unknowingly been tempted thrice by murder.
And so are the performance of Thomas Mitchell as the millionaire tycoon Edgar Lowndes,
and of Donald Crisp as the psychiatrist Dr. Aronson.
We again hope to keep you in...
Suspense!
Yes?
There's Mr. Edgar Lowndes here to see you, Dr. Aronson.
Lowndes, Lowndes? Edgar Lowndes? When did we get him for patient?
I think you'd better talk to him, Doctor.
Yes, and I think he'd have to go through the usual routine.
I don't go through usual routines. I'm Edgar Lowndes. I dare say you've heard the name before, Doctor.
And who hasn't? Edgar Lowndes, the railroad magnet. Sit down, sir.
Thank you. Well, I'm a man of a few words, Doctor. Frankly, I'm at my wit's end.
Why, if my business associates had any idea I was consulting a psychoanalyst,
I'd be laughed off the floor of the stock exchange. But we'll never mind that.
It's these headaches, Doctor. I've been having an aspirin codeine. Nothing seems to help.
How long has this been going on?
A little over a month. Since the death of my wife, in fact. We were very attached, you know. Very attached.
Her death was a shock to you?
No, I wouldn't say a shock, precisely. She's been an invalid for years. Bad heart.
Wasn't so much what happened the night she died, but the way it happened.
Oh, but why shoot off my mouth to you about it? I've told the story a thousand times,
till everybody's sick of hearing it.
Well, perhaps you haven't told all the story, even yet.
Well, as a matter of fact, that's the truth, Doctor. There's one little thing I left out.
But the funny part of that is, I didn't know it myself till yesterday.
And what was that?
Well, I was dressing for dinner. I was getting ready to go out when in comes my wife's servant.
You know, her nurse. She's all flattered about something else.
Mr. Louns, I hope you'll forgive me for bursting in like this, but Mrs. Louns...
Yes, yes, yes, speak up, sir.
Well, she's resting quite well, Mr. Louns, but she did have that little attack this afternoon.
And I can't be here this evening. And what with the servant's night out being tonight, I thought...
Yes, you thought I'd better stay with her, and I certainly will. Now you just go along about your business.
I look after Mrs. Louns personally.
Oh, I knew you'd see it that way. You're a good, considerate man, Mr. Louns.
Edgar.
Feeling a little rocky, darling? Well, old Edgar's not going to let you down,
not even if it means losing that war contract.
I'm going to sit right here with you, sweetheart, and Louns, Reed and Kupnick can go hang.
Oh, no, Edgar, there's no reason for you to stay, really. There isn't.
Just the same, I'm going to stay right here with my little wife this evening.
Really, Edgar, it's not necessary. If you'll just get the brown bottle out of the medicine chest,
the digitalis, and leave it here by my bed with a glass of water...
And leave you here alone in this big house, feeling the way you do? Not much, not for a hundred war contracts.
Now, Edgar, do as I say. Just leave the medicine here by my bed, and everything will be all right.
Now, go on, darling, and do as I say. Please, it's the brown bottle.
Now, Dr. Aaronson, what would you have done under the circumstances?
After all, I'd left her alone before and nothing had happened,
and this dinner was important in a business way. That night was my big chance.
Your big chance. Yes, I suppose it was.
Well, to make a long story short, she died while I was out.
Now, if only I'd stayed with her. That's what I kept telling myself,
and people I told the story to kept telling me that I shouldn't reproach myself.
After all, it could have happened to anyone.
And then yesterday, yesterday I was packing up her things, and I came across this bottle in the medicine cabinet.
It was the digitalis. I'd left the wrong bottle by her bedside.
That was what drove me nearly crazy, Doctor, finding that bottle.
It was bad enough leaving her alone, but making a blunder like that on the medicine.
Why, it made me feel almost like I'd, you know, I'd murdered her.
But as you say, it was your big chance.
Huh? What do you mean? What are you trying to tell me?
You mean you think I wanted to get rid of her?
You say that, Mr. Lowndes. I didn't. But I see our time is up. I can't talk to you any more today.
Oh, what, you've got to. You can't leave me up in the air like this.
Why, you practically accuse me of wanting to murder my wife.
Perhaps we'll understand your feelings towards your wife better, Mr. Lowndes, when we've discussed the others.
What others? Hey, what are you trying to give me?
Relief, Mr. Lowndes, for those headaches of yours.
Tonight, for Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you as stars Mr. Thomas Mitchell and Mr. Donald Crisp,
whom you have heard in the first act of Case History on Edgar Lowndes.
Tonight's tale of Suspense.
Far from the scene we've just left, far to the south across the equator, is another scene I ask you to visit with me.
It's just before the dinner hour on the beautiful Roof Terrace Cafe of the Hotel Metropolitano of Guy Q. Ecuador.
We're finishing our appetizers and excellent sherry,
and lifting your glass you remark to our host that you envy him such wine.
He laughs. You're very kind, he says, but I'm afraid the compliment is misdirected.
It is your own California you must praise for this splendid wine.
And then he holds the bottle up and looking at the label you see Roma California Sherry.
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And now it is with pleasure that we bring back to our soundstage Donald Crisp as Dr. Aronson
and Thomas Mitchell in the title role of case history on Edgar Lowndes.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
He's outside now, doctor. Here are your notes on the case.
Oh good, just leave them here on the desk. And oh, Miss Finchley.
Yes, doctor.
From now on when Mr. Lowndes is in the consultation room, I want you to keep an eye on my private office.
Make sure that the recording equipment is in operation at all times.
I want a record of every word he says.
And I want you to keep an eye on the recording equipment.
Make sure that the recording equipment is in operation at all times. I want a record of every word he says in his own voice.
Is this a criminal case, Dr. Aronson?
I don't know yet.
But hadn't you ought to... I'm sorry, doctor.
You can let him come now, if you will, Miss Finchley.
Yes, Dr. Aronson.
The doctor will see you now, Mr. Lowndes.
Thank you. Well, well. Here I am again. Surprised to see me?
How are the headaches, Mr. Lowndes?
Well, sir, they evaporated just like that. I slept like a tough. Don't know how you did it, but you've sold me on the psychiatry deal.
So I thought while we were at it, doctor, I might as well straighten out a couple of other little things that have been worrying me.
I rather thought there were others.
Ha, ha. Now, now, listen, doctor, don't start talking of riddles again.
Maybe you were right. Maybe I did want my wife to die. Unconsciously, of course.
Well, why not? She'd been an invalid for years, always complaining, never really getting anything out of life.
Yes, sir. After I left your office yesterday, I thought the whole thing over, and I said to myself, Edgar Lowndes, you look at this thing squarely.
Maybe you killed her. Maybe leaving the wrong medicine by her bed that night was not so much of an accident as you think it was.
So what? You did her a favor. You did yourself a favor. She never really loved you anyway. If Jim Bascom...
Who's Jim Bascom?
Why, uh, he died in a railroad accident. We were brakemen together on the old nickel plate road. Jim and me were like twins.
Roamed together, worked together, liked the same thing, even fell in love with the same girl.
Why, I remember the night it happened. We were leaving on the first...
I think we'd better climb on top, Ed. Sorry, signal.
Hey, wait a minute, Jim. There's Virginia.
Ah, bless her heart. I knew she'd come to see us. Hurry up, sweetheart.
Oh, dear God. I was afraid I'd be too late.
There's another train in the old nickel plate line you wouldn't hold up for us, Virginia.
Oh, Jim.
Maybe. Hey, what about a kiss?
Oh, I'll be damned if I don't.
Why, Edgar, you're jealous, I do believe.
Well, why not?
There. How's that?
Like my own sister.
Oh, come on, Ed. They're getting impatient up there.
You've got to tell him this time. You hear me, Jim?
Yeah, yeah, I'll tell him. I promise, Virginia.
Hey, come on, Jim.
Come on, Ed. Come on. One more kiss, baby.
Oh, darling. My darling, take care of her.
I will, baby. Don't forget to send out the invitation.
I knew when I saw him kiss her like that, it was all up for me with Virginia.
Jim told me when we were crossing the divide,
he and Virginia were going to be married the minute they got back to Milwaukee.
We were carrying an extra heavy load that haul,
and when we started down the pass,
Ed, for the Lord's sake, watch me close.
Don't turn your wheel until you see me turn mine.
One jolt away, this train's rolling down the grade,
and we'll all land in the ravine.
Sure, Jim, don't worry.
I got to be in good shape for that weapon, remember?
Yeah, yeah, I remember.
I watched him walk back along the cars.
It was pretty dark, and I could see the
I had a syndrome in my eyes since we left Salida.
I think I got it.
I hope that old man's not going to get the hang of it.
I hope so.
I had a cinder in my eyes since we left Salida.
I thought I saw him reach the brake wheel on the other car
and signal to me.
I grabbed the wheel in front of me
and break my car with all the strength in my body.
Hey, the large tank, hey!
The load, three of the car behind,
the coupling on Jim's car had broken.
The light changed as we forced the switch
and the runaway cars freezed out at a dead-end spur.
I saw Jim's body jolt free of the splintering car
and hurtle out over the gorge.
Just then we plunged into a tunnel.
I never found Jim's body.
Well, so you can see why I think of trains
in connection with death, can't you, Doctor?
Yes, yes, the association is quite clear.
Uh-huh, now, you're thinking I killed Jim too, aren't you?
Isn't that what you're thinking?
Is that what you're thinking, Mr. Lowndes?
I don't know what to think.
Say, what are you trying to do to me, anyway?
I came here to get professional advice.
You're trying to drive me crazy.
If that's the way you feel,
perhaps you'd better try another doctor.
I will.
By George, I will.
That's just what I'll do.
Well, good luck, Mr. Lowndes.
Huh? No hard feelings?
No, of course not.
And you won't tell anybody about, about...
Why, what is it, Mr. Lowndes?
You're trembling.
There it is again.
There, it's happening again, Doctor.
Say, Doctor, you've got to help me.
You've got to.
Forget what I said about getting another doctor.
I need help.
Mr. Lowndes, calm yourself.
What is it?
What's happening again?
I'm hearing it again.
The train.
Like in the dream, make it go away, Doctor.
But I hear it too, Mr. Lowndes.
It's just a commuting train that passes over the bridge out there.
Look out of the window, you can see it.
Oh, of course.
Thank heaven.
I thought the dream had...
You never told me about a dream before.
No, and I'm not going to.
You know too much already.
Yes, Mr. Lowndes, I'm afraid you're right.
I know too much already.
And I have kept a complete record of each interview with this patient
by means of a recording machine concealed in my private office.
There is no doubt that the patient has twice committed murder unconsciously,
and on the day the patient stopped the analysis,
he exhibited hysterical symptoms which were brought on by the sound of a railroad train.
Yes, go on from there, Ms. Finchley.
New paragraph.
The train is a death symbol for this man
and appears to be the subject of a recurrent dream.
The danger of the present situation lies in the fact that the patient's unconscious impulses
have been brought to the surface without being rationalized.
There is, in my opinion, a positive danger that the patient,
in his present condition, may commit one or even more conscious murders,
particularly should he take it into his head to board a railroad train.
Yes, sir?
Ah, pardon me, but I noticed you were traveling alone too,
and I wondered if you'd like to join me in a little game of cards.
Oh, well, that's a great idea. Come on in.
Thank you, thank you. Railroads are my line. Edgar Longs.
Not E.J. Longs?
Uh-huh.
Oh, this is in the nature of an honor, sir.
You're something of a tycoon, Mr. Longs.
Thanks, thanks.
My name's Ellis. Neckwear is my line.
Mr. Ellis, say, I could use a couple of neckties.
Got any samples with you?
Oh, sure thing, Mr. Longs. Right here in this case.
There you are, sir. Take your pick.
Compliments at the Swallowgintravat Company.
Come on out. This one strikes my fancy.
Well, go ahead. Take it. See any others you like?
Well, let me think.
Oh, here's another tray under there.
Say it. Hey, look.
What?
Out the window there. You see it?
I don't see anything.
You...
What are you doing?
Come on.
So his line was neckwear, was it?
Elsa, pardon me.
But I noticed you were traveling alone, sir,
and I wondered if you'd like to join me in a little game of cards.
Oh, that's a good idea. Come in, come in.
My name's Jenkins. Cutlery's my line.
Knives, scissors, and surgical instruments.
What's your line?
Police of five Midwestern states are on the lookout tonight
for the homicidal maniac who stalked the quarters of the Lightning Express,
transcantled a luxury train,
claiming the total of three victims murdered in cold blood.
Edgar J. Lowndes, an executive of the railroad
who was aboard the train on the fatal night,
has posted a personal reward of $50,000
to anyone giving information leading to the arrest of the murderer.
Well, it's happened.
There was nothing you could have done to prevent it, doctor.
Even if you'd sent your report to the police, there wasn't enough evidence.
And there still isn't enough evidence.
Well, you run along.
I'm going to stay here and finish these reports in longhand.
You can type them in the morning.
You're sure you don't need me?
Absolutely.
I think I'll take your advice.
Good night, doctor.
Good night.
Oh, Miss Finchley.
I almost forgot to tell you...
She's gone. What a nuisance.
Talking to yourself, doctor?
Lowndes.
How did you get in here?
The door was unlocked.
Would you rather I come back during office hours?
Why, why, yes, yes, I'd rather you did, Mr. Lowndes.
Was it very urgent?
It's the headaches, doctor. They've come back.
It started again about a week ago.
Well, well, that's after what happened on the train.
Doctor, tell me the truth.
Did I commit those murders or didn't I?
You're the only one who knows the answer to that.
Something to do with the dream, I think.
Oh, yes, the dream.
We were getting around to that when you left here the last time.
Now, tell me about it.
Well, I hear the sound of the train.
And I'm sitting there beside someone, a stranger, I think.
He's wearing a checked waistcoat and there's a heavy gold watch chain
with a milk's tooth suspended from it, like the one my father used to wear
when I was a child in Wisconsin.
Tell me something about your father.
He died when I was quite young.
He'd been an invalid, doctor, ever since I could remember.
He used to sit in an armchair, in a wheelchair, it was, really,
in front of the parlor window.
He looked out into the street hour after hour.
Sometimes when I came running into the house, he'd put out his cane and...
...tripped me, and I hated him for that.
At one time, doctor, I think I was about eight or nine years old at the time.
Edgar, come in here this instant.
Your father wants to talk to you.
Ah, heck, Mother, I was going to get up a ball game.
Now, the ball game can wait.
You come along with me.
Can I ever have any fun, Mother?
Can I?
Hush up.
Here he is, Jonathan.
Come closer, boy.
I'll never look at you.
Yes, Father.
Yes, Father. Just as I thought.
Grass stains all over the new suit I bought for you, huh?
Where?
There.
Ow!
And there, and there, and there, and there.
I won't have him get the idea just because his father's an invalid.
He can roll in the dirt like a gutter snipe and get away with it.
Stop blubbering.
Now, go wash your face.
I'm driving into town today.
I want you to go along, run errands.
The car my father drove was an old electric, a battery job.
His legs were completely paralyzed, and my mother had to practically lift him into it.
But the car itself was entirely controlled by hand.
Driving it gave him a sense of power he needed.
I used to dread those trips into town with him, the horrible spectacle of Mother helping him in and out of the car while the neighbors stared.
And then riding along with him alone without anyone, nothing, to intervene for me.
That was the worst.
Well, speak up, boy.
Why don't you say something?
Cat got your tongue?
No, sir.
I don't know why I had to raise a boy like you.
You don't even keep me company on these trips into town.
Poor, helpless invalid, your own father.
I'm sorry, sir.
You're sorry.
I think I'll give you another canine when we get home.
Just to make good and sure you're sorry, huh?
What do you say to that?
Oh, bother.
Now look what's happened.
Stalled.
Batteries run down again.
Get out and open the hood in the back, boy.
You see a switch there.
Turn it to the left where it says, uh, reserve battery.
Hurry up.
We're stopped right on the railroad track.
Turn the switch to the left where it says reserve battery.
Yes, yes. Hurry up.
There's a train along here any minute.
Oh, yes, father.
Don't just stand there looking stupid.
Go and turn the switch. I told you.
What's the matter with you?
Have you gone crazy?
Don't you hear the train coming, Edgar?
Edgar, you want your father to be killed?
I can't get out of here by myself, Edgar.
Now please do as I say.
No, the train can kill you for all I care.
I'm going back home.
Son, don't you understand what you're doing?
You're murdering your own father.
Now this is murder.
Murder, I tell you. Murder.
Murder.
I want you.
I walked home with those words of his ringing in my ears.
I can hear him really yet.
Son, don't you understand what you're doing?
You're murdering your own father.
Murder.
It's murder, I tell you.
It's murder.
Murder.
But I never felt a qualm.
Those words were like sweet music to me, doctor.
Well, that's the end of the story.
But it's only the beginning.
When I walked into this office for the first time,
I was a man suffering from headaches,
seemingly brought on by grief over the death of a loved one.
Now I see myself as a man who murdered his father,
his best friend, and his wife, who must kill and kill again.
Because every time I kill, I'm killing him,
my father, whom I hated beyond all comprehension
and for whom one death agony was not enough.
Now that you know all about these things, my dear doctor,
I'm afraid that you'll have to be the next on my list.
Put that gun away, Edgar. You don't really want to kill me.
I'd be a fool if I didn't.
The headaches will come back, Edgar.
There'll be no one here to cure them.
They won't come back.
You showed me what caused them, didn't you, doctor?
You'll have worse things than headaches.
You'll begin to hear things. You'll have delusions.
You'll think you can hear a train passing outside at this very moment, don't you?
But if you look out of the window, you'll see there's no train there at all.
You won't trust me.
You won't trick me into turning right back. Come out from behind that desk.
Keep your hands up high. That's it. Now then.
What was that?
Don't you understand what you're doing?
Where's that voice coming from?
You're murdering your own father.
There it is again.
It's murder, I tell you. Murder!
Stop it.
Murder!
Stop it.
I hear no voice.
Stop it. I can't stand it. I'll kill myself.
Then give me the gun, Icky.
Doctor, make it stop. Take it away. Only hear.
Make it stop.
That's enough, Miss Finchley. Shut it off.
Are you all right, Dr. Aronson?
Yes, thank you. You almost had me thinking I was hearing voices.
Well, I did hear voices, and that's why I came back.
And I remembered about you wanting Mr. Lowne's interviews recorded.
So I went in the other room and started the machine.
When he became violent, I played back the last part of the record, thinking it might divert his attention.
Good girl.
To get all the evidence we need, we need to get the gun.
Good girl.
To get all the evidence we need now to put Mr. Lowne's where he can't do any more harm.
You may have evidence, but you haven't got me, and you won't get me alive.
Dr. Aronson, the windows! Stop him!
Sorry, doctor, I can't wait.
I've got to catch a train.
Hey, Jim! Wait for me!
Oh, my God!
21 floors to the street.
Where is it? 20?
Do they skip 13 in this building?
It doesn't matter to Lownes.
He's back with his friend Jim Baskin.
On the old nickel plate line.
Listen.
It's just crossing the divide.
And so closes
Case History on Edgar Lowne
Starring Thomas Mitchell and Donald Crisp
Tonight's tale of
Suspense
Suspense is produced and directed by
William Spear.
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This is Donald Crisp.
I'm sure I speak for both Mr. Mitchell and myself
in saying how much we have enjoyed appearing
this evening as the guests of Suspense.
Which I'm sure must be one of your
favorite programs, as it is one of ours.
Next week's stars of
Suspense will be Geraldine Fitzgerald
and Richard Walf, who appear
in one of the most extraordinary stories
by that most extraordinary writer,
James Thurber.
Thomas Mitchell will next be seen in the 20th
Century Fox production of Wilson.
Donald Crisp will be seen
in the coming Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer production
National Velvet.
Next Monday, same time,
you will hear Geraldine Fitzgerald
and Richard Walf in
Suspense.
Presented by
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