Auto Light and its 96,000 dealers present Suspense.
Tonight, Auto Light brings you Mr. Charles Boyer in the case of Henri Vibard, a suspense
play produced and edited by William Spear.
Oh, Mr. Wilcox, Filbert's taking me to the junior prom tonight.
Isn't that exciting?
I adore my tempestuous teenage neighbor.
It's almost as exciting as that exemplary exponent of extra starting dependability,
the Auto Light Stay Full Battery, the battery that needs water only three times a year in
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Gee whiz, Mr. Wilcox, I want to talk about the dance.
So do I, Dora, the dance of delight you devotees of driving will do when you find out how much
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You see, tests show this famous battery gives 70% longer average life than batteries without
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Filbert's kept every dance in reserve.
Reserve?
That reminds me, Dora, the Auto Light Stay Full Battery has three times as much liquid
reserve as batteries without the Stay Full features.
That's why it needs water only three times a year in normal car use.
Mr. Wilcox, you ought to see.
So friends, see your neighborhood Auto Light Battery dealer tomorrow.
Remember, you're always right with Auto Light.
And now with the case of Henri Vibar and the performance of Charles Boyer, Auto Light hopes
once again to keep you in suspense.
I watched the taxi cab enter the gate and roll slowly up the driveway toward the entrance.
Gatstone Memorial Rest Home is a big, busy place, dozens of cars come and go every day,
and yet somehow this cab caught my attention and held it.
It seemed to fascinate me.
As it approached, yes, I got a definite feeling of menace from it.
These warnings, these premonitions, they come to me whenever I'm in danger.
Danger?
What danger?
The cab stopped just below my window and a man got out, Sergeant Jack Freeman of the
London Bureau of Missing Persons.
He came here often checking on new arrivals, nothing to fear from Freeman.
He's just a big, good-natured moron.
But now he was assisting a woman from the cab.
I sighted a woman.
Something snapped inside my head.
The woman was Mary, my wife.
Mary, the sudden sight of her made me furious.
I would have enjoyed striking her dead then and there.
But how was it possible?
Mary, free, walking around like a decent woman?
She'd been convicted of murder, sentenced to life in prison.
Now, now, now, was it possible she was out on parole?
No.
English justice is harsh with killers.
And Mary's crime had been called blood and murder.
Suddenly I understood.
Mary was being brought here to Gladstone Rice Home to identify me.
Such simple people.
Trap and revivre.
It was amusing.
I might have a few unpleasant moments, but that would be all.
I would make a fool of her.
I'd always made a fool of her.
Mary meant by the window for some time, planning just what to say and how to act.
After a while, there was a knock on the door.
Oh, this would be Dr. Sampson, the chap who runs this place.
Nice fellow, Sampson.
Not too smart, but...
Come in.
Good afternoon, Mr. Leclerc.
Oh, Dr. Sampson, come in.
You have a visitor, Sergeant Freeman again.
He'd like another chat with you in my office.
Oh, Freeman, the bloodhound.
Tell me truly, Doctor, does he ever find any of the people he looks for?
Oh, indeed he does.
Hundreds of them every year.
Well, he has failed utterly in my case.
With you, Monsieur, he has a good excuse.
Most victims of amnesia have people searching for them.
Friends or relations who can identify them.
I'm beginning to think you'll just have to recover your own memory.
To recover my memory, I wish I could forget.
A few minutes later, I was sitting across the desk from Sergeant Freeman.
I had the upper hand, of course, because I knew what was coming.
As usual, he was humble, apologetic, and yet, for the first time since I'd known him,
I got a definite feeling that he was deliberately trying to trap me.
That's me in some trifling mistake.
Yes, I have an instinct that warns me.
Just a few more questions, Monsieur Leclerc.
Well, as many as you like, Sergeant.
You're looking very well.
Oh, thank you, sir.
Now think hard, sir.
Does the name Vibar mean anything to you?
Or Vibar?
Vibar?
Vibar.
No, no, I can't say it does.
How about Falmouth?
Ever spend a summer at Falmouth down in Cornwall?
Never heard of the place, Sergeant.
Very well.
How about the name Willard, an American, retired sea captain, sickly old fellow in a wheelchair.
Oh, tell me more about him, Sergeant.
Well, sir, unless we're wrong again, you married his daughter.
Oh, a wife and a father-in-law.
You're very generous, Sergeant.
Did you bring them along?
Captain Willard was an invalid.
He committed suicide.
He felt he stood in the way of his daughter's happiness.
Left a bit of money, though, about 10,000 pounds.
I could hardly keep from laughing at Freeman.
He went on telling how Mary and her father came to England on a visit, how I met her
at Falmouth, how her father objected to our romance.
Freeman had most of the facts straight, except that Captain Willard did not commit suicide.
No, I arranged that little matter.
It was quite easy.
He suffered from a bad heart condition, took strenthening for it.
So I managed to contrive an overdose for him.
I put it in his pot of tea.
It was a bitter tea, I imagine, but then he liked it strong.
When Mary and I returned from the beach, he was dead.
But he didn't leave 10,000 pounds, more like 5,000.
Then went on with his stories.
Unless I'm completely wrong, you and Mary Willard were married, settled up Captain Willard's
estate, which is practically all cash, then went up to London to live.
Now, Monsieur Leclerc, does none of that strike a familiar note?
Well, you seem to think it should.
Why, Sergeant Freeman?
Because you've been identified from those pictures we took of you when you first came
here.
Really?
Who?
Oh, the woman, of course.
She says you are her husband.
Well, she probably discovered that I have money and...
How?
How could she possibly know that?
Well, you could have told her, Sergeant Freeman.
Innocently, of course.
It's no secret.
Oh, I don't mind, but it makes me a perfect target for designing women.
One moment, Monsieur Leclerc.
Let's talk about your money for a while.
Doesn't it strike you as strange that a man could walk into this rest home, as you did
three years ago, carrying $200,000 in American money?
Why, of course, it's strange.
Suppose.
Suppose you had committed a crime.
Wouldn't it have been a perfect way to elude the police?
Yes, but if I were a criminal, you would have my fingerprints.
You said so yourself three years ago.
Remember?
You came here carrying nothing but money.
No extra clothing, no papers, nothing by which you could be identified.
Now, Sergeant, what sort of crime are we discussing?
Murder?
It would have to be murder.
You detectives.
And who did I kill?
Well, to be honest about it, we don't know.
Oh, just anyone.
To be this woman's husband, I must have murdered somebody.
Well, that makes her very attractive, I'm sure.
Tell me, did she help me with a job?
She was tried for the murder, convicted and sentenced to spend the rest of her life in
prison.
Would you care to hear about it?
Not particularly, but it's part of your job, and we've rather taken over Dr. Sampson's
office.
Oh, that's quite all right.
I find this very interesting.
Well, it's not interesting to me, because Freeman had the story all wrong.
Just knew Mary's side of it, and there was so much she didn't know.
We buried the old man, got married, collected the old man's insurance, and went up to London
to live.
It was very nice for a few months, but the money didn't last long.
Very soon I was broke.
Nasty feeling, being broke, makes me nervous, uncertain of myself.
Fortunately, just as things were getting really bad, I met an American friend, a chap I had
met in New York a few years before, named Nate Blackburn.
He had a lot of American bonds, hot bonds, he called them, but he didn't know how to
dispose of them.
It was a simple matter for me, with my connections on the continent.
Blackburn stipulated one thing, he wanted to be paid in American dollars.
That delayed matters for a few days, and finally, when I received the money, I decided not to
share it with Blackburn.
So, instead of keeping my appointment with him, I went to my hotel, sent Mary out on
a fool's errand, and packed my grapes for a quick disappearance.
I'm very clever at quick disappearances.
I was all packed, ready to leave, when there was a knock on the door.
That startled me.
Did Blackburn didn't know where I was living, and Mary couldn't get home for an hour.
Who could it be?
Again the knock.
My nerves steady down.
They never fail me in a tight spot.
Hello, what is it?
Sergeant Randall, Scotland Yard.
Well, what do you want?
Some information, that's all, sir.
Did you attend the palladium last night with a man named Nate Blackburn?
Well, yes, yes, I did.
What about it?
We're trying to find Mr. Blackburn.
Do you have his address?
No, no, look here, I'm trying to catch a train.
I know very little about Nate Blackburn, except that he is a thoroughly respectable businessman.
You've been misled, Mr. Vybar.
Nate Blackburn's a bad one.
Tell me, did he talk to you about bonds?
Bonds?
What sort of bonds?
Stolen bonds, Mr. Vybar.
They're part of an American post office robbery during which two policemen were killed.
Only today we traced the bonds to Nate Blackburn.
But he seems to have disappeared.
No, no, this is too silly.
Please, clear out.
See me some other day.
Oh, too bad, sir, I can't.
We must get Nate Blackburn's address.
Suppose I say I don't know it.
I can't accept that, Mr. Vybar.
Perhaps you better come along with me to the yard.
If you can convince Captain Nichols...
No, no, one moment, please.
Blackburn did give me his address.
Well, if I remember it and give it to you, will you go away and stop bothering me?
Mr. Vybar, I ask you a simple question.
All I want is an honest answer.
All right, I'll give it to you.
Blackburn lives at the Afton Hotel, Suite 618.
You dirty, rotten, scurvy rat.
No, no, no, no, I mean it.
He's probably there right now.
Here, I'll get him on the telephone.
Never mind the phone.
Of course he's there.
Waiting for you to show up with our money.
Where is it?
I can't remember your English accent.
Come up with that, Owen, quick.
Well, I don't have it.
I put the money in the mail.
I've been tailing you all day.
I saw you sell the stuff an hour ago.
Come on, Vybar, I want the money.
That gun doesn't frighten me.
You wouldn't dare kill me.
No, but I can put a couple of slugs in your legs.
How about that?
Want to be a cripple the rest of your life?
No, no, no, wait.
Wait.
I intended to deliver the money to Nate personally, but since he doesn't trust me...
Now, please.
Put that gun away.
There, that's better.
I have an aversion to fire.
Where's the money?
There, in that grave on the table.
Huh?
The small one.
Oh.
Huh.
Good.
Old bills.
Not in sequence.
Can't see any marks.
Drop that money.
Huh?
Hey, what's that thing, a gun?
Put that money on the table.
Let's see that gadget.
Stand still, don't move.
Don't tell me it shoots real bullets.
Pops, stay where you are.
Stay away from me.
Give me that thing.
Stop, I said.
I'll shoot.
Come on, hand it over.
No, no.
You jerk.
You silly jerk.
He fell dead right at my feet.
Auto Light is bringing you Charles Boyer in the case of Henri Vibard.
Tonight's production in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Hey, Dora, what's the matter?
You look blue.
Filbert just called.
His car wouldn't start because the battery's dry and now he can't go to the dance.
Dry your eyes, my pretty neighbor.
I'll lend Filbert my car.
Oh, gee, thanks, Mr. Wilcox.
You're wonderful.
Oh, not half as wonderful as the auto light stay full battery.
The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use.
If Filbert knew that, he wouldn't be stuck.
Oh, now, don't be hard on poor Filbert.
He just hasn't heard that the auto light stay full battery has a fiberglass retaining mat
protecting every positive plate to keep the power producing material in place for longer
battery life.
Why, in recent tests based on SAE life cycle standards, auto light stay full batteries
gave 70% longer average life than batteries without stay full features.
I can hardly wait to get started.
Well, you don't have to wait to get started with an auto light stay full battery.
It's a demon for starting stamina and needs water only three times a year in normal car
use.
I'll tell Filbert to remember.
You're always right with auto light.
And now auto light brings back to our Hollywood soundstage our star, Charles Boyer in the
case of Henri Vibar, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
It's a terrible thing to kill a man like that, to see him go limp and pitch forward on his
pace.
Just the memory of it made me sick.
I must have betrayed my feelings because Sergeant Freeman stopped whatever he was saying.
Anything wrong, sir?
Oh, pardon me, Sergeant Freeman.
My mind strayed for a moment from what you were saying.
But you look ill, Monsieur.
What?
Are you sure you feel all right?
I'm quite all right, Dr. Sampson.
Sergeant Freeman, please continue with your story.
I found it quite interesting.
Oh, thank you, sir.
Well, when Madame Vibar returned, her husband had a fantastic story to tell her.
Only a woman in love could have believed that.
Fantastic tale.
There you have an example of Sergeant Freeman's intelligence.
Fantastic.
It was a masterpiece.
I think I told you how my mind works best in a crisis.
Well, it worked now like a well-hauled machine.
Had nothing to fear from the police.
I could explain this dead man as a, well, a thief or a burglar.
But what about Nate Blackburn?
After this, he never stopped looking for me.
Nate is a killer.
Human life means nothing to him.
No, no, I'd have to disappear.
Make it absolutely convincing.
Well, I could do just that.
No one, not even my adoring wife, would ever hear of me again.
I would dissolve into thin air and take $200,000 with me.
The sight of the dead man sickened me.
So I dragged him into the bedroom and closed the door.
Then I sat down and planned out every detail of the wonderful scheme.
Of course, I wiped my fingerprints from the little gun I had used and left it on the table
where my wife would be sure to handle it.
Funny thing, Nate and I had talked about fingerprints.
He had bragged that none of his men had ever been fingerprinted.
Neither had I.
Maybe that's what gave me the inspiration.
By the time Mary came home, I had every detail of my plan.
Hello, dear.
Your man didn't show up, maybe.
Henry, what's the matter?
Mary, I'm in trouble.
Trouble, dear?
What?
I...
I killed a man.
Henry, don't fool about such things.
I'm not fooling, Mary.
Look, here.
No, don't go in.
Henry, who is it?
How did it happen?
Good girl.
I was afraid you'd be here.
Never mind me.
What about you?
Well, I'm in for it, I guess.
No, it couldn't have been your fault.
You wouldn't hurt anyone, please, Henry.
How did it happen?
Well, this man in there, he gave me some bonds.
Asked me to sell them for him.
I lost them.
Don't ask me how.
Some thief must have picked my pocket.
Anyway, this man came up here today and demanded the bonds or the money from them.
Darling.
I tried to explain, to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen.
He got rattled.
He was in a hurry.
I tried to explain, to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen.
He got rattled.
And I, well, I managed to get that little gun of yours.
We struggled for it.
It went off and...
No.
But it was self-defense.
Oh, what English jury would believe that?
The man did give me the bonds for witnesses.
Who would believe I didn't sell them and keep the money and then kill that man to keep
him from talking?
We've got to be practical, Mary.
Did you call the police?
No.
I waited for you.
Why, Henry?
Because there is a possible way out if you'll stand by me.
Stand by you?
What? I'll do anything you say.
Mary, it will take nerve if you weaken.
Henry, you're my husband. I love you.
Tell me what to do, and I'll do it.
If all life's problems were as simple as women,
I told her my plan.
The dead man looked like me in a general way.
My size, black hair, eyeglasses.
And after he dropped 20 floors to the street, he wouldn't have any features.
Mary would simply hurry downstairs, perhaps a bit hysterical,
which would be difficult in the circumstances,
identify my broken body, and allow herself to be consoled.
Could be suicide or an accident, whichever suited her.
Unless she forgot.
She forgot about the bullet in the man's body.
Yes, the bullet that would convict her of killing her own husband.
My plan was a great inspiration, but it had one terrifying angle.
To make identification complete, I had to change clothes with the dead man.
That was a fearful ordeal, a nightmare, but it had to be done.
It was almost too much for me, but I think I told you,
I'm equal to anything if I put my mind to it.
But I'll take to my grave the horrible memory of dragging that body
to the bedroom window and pushing it through.
I walked down the back stairs, 20 flights of them.
I saw the crowd in the street around the body.
I took a bus, the first one I saw.
I changed to another and another, destroying everything that might identify me,
but keeping a little bag filled with money.
It's quite a coincidence, Mr. Leclerc.
What? What? I didn't get that.
I say it's quite a coincidence that you came to this rest home
the day following the murder of Henri Vibard.
Well, very well. Make the most of it.
Dr. Sampson, do you consider that coincidence?
I had to come here sometime.
Yes, Sergeant Freeman, since he's here, you had to come sometime.
Well, apparently you've brought this woman with you.
Bring her in. Let's get through with this farce.
Thank you, thank you. Perhaps that would be best.
Madame Vibard, will you come in, please?
A big moment, and I wasn't even excited.
I'm like that.
Little things may bother me, but big things, really important things,
and my nerves are like steel.
Mary walked into the room.
I looked at her without a flicker of an eye.
She was a changed girl now, so different from the girl I married.
Prison does that, I suppose.
She was looking at me.
Our eyes met and held.
For a moment, there seemed a shadow of doubt in her face.
Then she took a step toward me.
Hello, Henry.
No, no, young woman, please.
Don't try to involve me in your troubles.
A friend of mine.
Henry, it won't do. You can't get away with it.
Now, Dr. Sampson, this woman is either crooked or crazy.
Let's take this calmly.
Madame Vibard, you're positive this man is your husband?
Oh, yes. This is Henry Vibard.
He pronounces it Henri.
Never mind the pronunciation. Is he the man?
Yes, sir.
He's changed a little.
It's only three years.
He looks older.
His hair has turned gray, and he isn't wearing his glasses,
but he's the same age.
Glasses?
One moment, please. I never wore glasses in my life.
My vision is perfect.
Monsieur Leclerc, that is your name.
Suppose you try to read this newspaper without glasses.
Oh, no, no.
Look, I'm in no mood to give demonstrations just to plead.
There, you see? He doesn't dare.
Make him try. He can't read a word.
I tell you not a word.
Monsieur Leclerc, it might be expedient.
It would certainly settle the issue once and for all.
Oh, very well, Doctor, since you suggest it.
Give me the paper.
I pretended to be nervous just to give them a thrill.
Then I opened the paper to the want ads.
Dread them all glibly.
The small print.
Glasses? I've got eyes like a hawk.
Mary didn't know that because the summer I met her,
I was avoiding the police, and part of my disguise included glasses
and touching up my prematurely gray hair.
I never told Mary.
I didn't know how far I could trust her.
When I finished reading the paper,
Mary just stared at me,
unable to believe the evidence of her own eyes.
Silence for a moment, then...
I'm sorry, sir.
Perhaps these young women can think up some other difficult trick.
She'd like me to perform.
Trick? It was a trick. He can't read.
Madame Rivard, we've had quite enough.
No, this is my husband. He's fooled you.
That's all that paper. It's a trick.
Of course, a trick. I did it with mirrors.
Young woman, you're not clever.
You've got plenty of nerve, all right, but you're not clever.
Why didn't you say I have a mole on my right shoulder,
a small scar on my hip, and very flat feet?
Almost anyone could have told you these things.
I use the swimming pool every day.
Now, Sergeant Freeman, I can't applaud you apart in this.
For three years, I've done my best to help you,
because I thought you were trying to help me regain my memory
and take my right foot place in society.
But I must tell you, sir, I no longer feel that way.
Not after you try to connect me with this jailbird.
Jailbird. That's right, Henry.
I'm a jailbird, and I deserve to be.
I helped you, and that was wrong.
But don't think you're safe.
I'll rot and die in prison, but you won't know about it.
You'll be dead. For heaven's sake, take this woman away.
Yes, Sergeant. Come along, Madam Lebar.
No! Let me tell him something.
Have you forgotten Nate Blackburn? Henry, well, he hasn't forgotten you.
Blackburn. Blackburn came to me in prison,
and I told him the whole thing.
By tomorrow, he'll know right where to find you.
He knows. Now.
Where is he?
There, in the doorway, stood Nate Blackburn.
A gun in his hand. He was smiling.
Dr. Sampson and Freeman started forward,
but he waved them back with a gun.
No one spoke as he walked across the room
and stopped in front of me.
Hello, Frenchy.
Well, you had some mistake.
Yeah, but you made it, Frenchy.
I had a hunch you'd get together with your wife sooner or later.
I spent a lot of time and money keeping an eye on her.
Okay, my man, put away that gun.
That sort of thing doesn't go in this country.
You're right, Copper, I know.
Only this is a special occasion.
You won't get a mile away.
I know that too.
Blackburn, I'll give you the money.
What money?
Well, that bring back Jack Randall.
Well, let's put this girl back in circulation.
Listen to me. I can explain if you let me.
It wasn't like you think at all.
Nate, we used to be pals. Remember?
New York, San Francisco, Paris.
We were lots of fun.
I bailed you out in Rio.
I'll make good, Nate.
I swear it will. Only...
No, don't. Don't.
I can square it.
So, I lasted after all.
You didn't think I'm good, did you, Doctor?
You don't know me?
Anytime I really try, I can...
I can...
Dr. Sampson, can he sign this confession?
I doubt it, Sergeant. He's too badly off.
Yes. Yes, I...
I...
I can...
S...
I didn't think he could.
Is he gone?
That's all.
Strange fellow.
Not at all the criminal type.
What is the criminal type, Doctor?
I've never found it.
He's gone.
Suspense. Presented by Auto Light.
Tonight's star, Mr. Charles Boyer.
Mr. Wilcox, why do you always say you're always right with Auto Light?
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Remember, you're always right with Auto Light.
Next Thursday for Suspense, our star will be Mr. Broderick Crawford.
The play is called Deadline and it is, as we say...
A tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
Tonight's Suspense play was produced and edited by William Spear and directed by Norman MacDonald.
Music for Suspense is composed by Lucian Mora-Wacken, conducted by Ludd Bluskin.
The case of Henri Vibar is an original play written for radio by Bradbury Foote.
Charles Boyer may soon be seen in the Douglas Cirque production, The First Legion.
You can buy Auto Light staple batteries, Auto Light standard or resistor spark plugs, Auto Light electrical parts at your neighborhood Auto Light dealers.
Switch to Auto Light. Good night.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.