You are about to hear a story suggested by actual events.
So that no innocent person shall suffer, names and places have been changed.
Auto Light and its 96,000 dealers bring you a story from the front pages of our great
metropolitan newspapers.
A story taken from life.
Tonight's presentation of Suspense.
Tonight, Auto Light presents Mr. James Mason as the greatest thief in the world.
An astounding case drawn from the unclosed files of Scotland Yard.
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And now, with the greatest thief in the world and the performance of Mr. James Mason, Auto
Light hopes once again to keep you in suspense.
Files of criminal record office in Scotland Yard contain two bulky folders, one relating
to the evidence against Peter Marriott, the other against a criminal known only as the
Squire.
Concerning Peter Marriott, we are in possession of a number of facts.
Some we gain through our own investigations, others through interested parties.
Concerning the Squire, we know a good deal less.
That for some five years he committed jewel thefts amounting to half a million pounds
is common knowledge.
That at no time until the end did we find one scrap of evidence is further stated in
the file.
The question that the Yard has not been able to satisfactorily answer is whether Peter
Marriott and the Squire are one and the same.
The case is a mathematical fantasy.
For example, we know that Peter Marriott attended a shooting party in West Riding as
the guest of Sir Leslie and Lady Bandridge.
We know the gist of what transpired, but was the Squire present at that time?
Good shooting, Marriott.
Thank you, sir.
Blessed if I know how you do it.
Every time I get a shot at them, those blinking parties seem to know it's me.
It's just bad luck, sir.
It'll get better.
But they do, you know.
They fly off screaming with laughter.
It's old Bandridge.
Come on, you chaps.
Nothing to worry about.
Really, sir.
Oh, well, perhaps tomorrow.
I'm for a drink.
Right, sure.
By the way, I've been meaning to ask you ever since you got here.
I kept slipping my mind.
Anything new in London about that Squire chap?
I don't think so, sir, not since his last haul.
You've heard about him up here, too, eh?
Who doesn't hear about him?
It's a disgrace, I tell you.
I've written a letter to the Times.
Parliament should do something.
I understand Scotland Yards up a tree.
Duff bunglers.
Not like the old days.
Catch the man, give him a horse-whipping.
Then send him to Dartmoor.
That's what we would have done.
They say he's quite clever.
Clever?
Nonsense.
They were making a hero of the Blighter.
The Squire.
Impudent Squire.
Ha!
Man is not a gentleman.
Just a blasted little jewel thief.
I don't imagine the Honourable Percy Pindell considers him little.
Oh, yes, that was the last one, wasn't it?
According to the paper, 20,000 pounds.
An emerald necklace and two diamond rings.
Percy's a fool.
I always told him so, too.
A child could have opened that safe of his.
I'd like to see this Squire try his game with me.
Be a different story, I can tell you.
I imagine that it would.
By the way, didn't you tell me that you used to dabble in the diamond market?
A few years ago, sir.
Nothing much.
This evening, I must show you one or two nice little things I bought Lady Pamela in Italy.
I'd love to see them, sir.
Two days after the shooting party, Sir Leslie Banbridge reported that jewels,
a magic to the sum of 8,000 pounds, had been stolen from his safe.
It was the Squire's work.
No prints, just the unmistakable.
It's just the unmistakable method that had tantalized us for five years.
At that time, there was no more reason to suspect Peter Marriott
than the other 18 guests, all of whom had seen the jewels in question.
We know now that there was a girl in Peter Marriott's life.
A girl whom we felt to be a rather odd acquaintance for a man in his position.
Hello, Ginny.
Where have you been?
Thought you was coming by last week.
I'm sorry, I was away.
With brass knobs on.
Honestly, I brought you a present.
You have?
You are a duck.
I've missed you.
Forgive me?
Don't I always give us a kiss?
You have missed me, haven't you?
Where's the present?
Here.
Oh, Peter.
Oh, it's lovely.
Thanks ever so.
Is it real?
Absolutely.
You couldn't find a better ruby anywhere.
It doesn't look real.
Take my word for it, it is.
How lovely.
You shouldn't have, though.
Must have cost a packet.
You're my girl, aren't you?
Look, you see this parcel I've got here?
Will you keep this for me, just for a little while?
Oh, what is it?
Nothing important.
You don't have to open it.
I wouldn't.
As a matter of fact, it's like the other parcel I gave you a few months ago.
Go on, pictures.
That's why.
You'll get in trouble one of these days, you will.
I don't believe you.
I bet there's aren't pictures in there.
Oh.
What do you really do?
I mean for a living.
I've told you, nothing very much.
Stock exchange.
I have some money.
Why?
I just wondered.
What made you wonder?
I think maybe you're a bit shady.
What an odd thought.
Is it?
What makes it so odd?
Why don't you ever take me nowhere?
Why do you always have to meet here, never go dancing, no nothing?
Isn't it nicer this way?
No, it ain't.
You're ashamed of me because I'm not swell like you.
Jenny, it isn't that.
It's only that I want to be with you alone.
What do you want me to say, then?
I don't know.
There's something funny about you.
Oh.
A man was here the other day.
A man?
Who?
What do you mean?
Oh, so there is something.
Jenny, tell me about it.
Well, he was just asking about the gent what visited me last time.
That was you, Peter.
What did he say?
I told him I wasn't in the habit of gassing with strangers and off it.
What did he look like?
Look here, I don't like the way you're talking, like a ruddy copper.
I don't think I'm going to tell you anything.
I'm sorry, Jenny.
Please, go on.
No, I don't feel like it.
Now, look, I've got to know. It's important.
Well, 999, after please.
I think you'd better tell me.
You hit me.
What did he look like?
Jenny?
Well, he was your height, maybe a little thinner, with black hair.
How was he dressed?
I don't know.
All right, I suppose.
Grey overcoat, bowler.
He wasn't a copper, I don't think, if that's what you're worrying about.
Too polite.
Any name?
No.
Said he was a friend of yours from abroad.
Said when I saw you to say something about Canada and you'd know what he meant.
It can't be. He's dead.
It can't be.
Immediately following the Banbridge robbery, the Squire was inactive.
We kept an eye out for the stolen jewels, but as in the past, there was no sign of them.
However, we learnt one interesting fact, that Peter Marriott had attended several parties given by victims of the Squire.
Although it was a very slight chance and quite possibly coincidental,
we felt it advisable to wait until the next morning to see if he had been killed.
Although it was a slight possibility and quite possibly coincidental,
we felt it advisable to assign a plainclothesman to watch him.
On September 7th, 1949, the detective made his routine report.
Followed suspect to Larnes Tea Shop, Notting Hill Gate.
He sat at a corner table, alone.
Five minutes later, he was joined by another man.
Hello, Peter Marriott.
Hello. Sit down.
I don't think I'd have recognized you. You've had quite a job done on your face, haven't you?
Yes.
Well, rather like old times, huh?
What happened? I thought you...
No, not now, my dear fellow. It's a long story. Don't worry, you'll hear about it.
How long have you been in London?
Oh, ages. Nearly six years.
Funny you took so long getting in touch.
Isn't it? You look prosperous, I must say.
So do you.
I suppose that girl told you I'd been inquiring.
Yes.
I thought it best to make sure one doesn't want to make mistakes, does one?
Look here, get to the point. What do you want?
Same dear fellow, aren't you? All right. First, what about my name?
I thought you were dead. No harm there. You know, I couldn't use my own name after I left Canada.
Yes, but my dear fellow, Peter Marriott. Well, there can't be two of us, you know.
Why not?
Well, because when I found out five years ago that you were calling yourself that, I had to change my name to something else.
Well?
Well, now I think I want my own back.
You can have it. There must be more than a few Peter Marriott's in the world.
Definitely. But we're special, you and I. Very special.
Go on.
You see, I've been reading a lot about you. You're quite a top. Races, hunt balls and all that.
Oh yes, I followed you very closely. You can be of great help to me, old man. Great help indeed.
What's the game?
We can do business together. Just like old times.
I don't think so.
But I do. You and I. And the squad.
For the next month, well into October, Peter Marriott, as a suspect, became a dud.
He led an exemplary life. And we began to feel that once again we'd made a mistake.
He attended several parties and no robbery attempts followed.
However, it was two days after a ball given by a wealthy sportsman that our detective assigned to Marriott made his report.
October 28th. Suspect left his flat at 5.30 p.m. and walked towards Tube Station.
Followed but lost him. Cannot be certain whether this move was purposeful or not on his part.
Is that the house?
Yes.
Well, you're not going to drive up to it, are you?
Okay. I didn't ask you to come along, you know.
Well, I suppose you know what you're doing.
You can stay here.
There are lights on in there.
Sevens quarter.
What do I say if a bobby comes along?
See that switch under the dash? Flick it. Then step on the starter.
The motor won't catch. You can say you're having motor trouble.
All right.
Come on. Did you get it?
Come on. She won't catch.
The ignition, you bloody fool.
Oh. Did you get it?
You don't think I went in there for a cup of tea, do you?
Of course I got it.
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. James Mason with Pamela Colino in The Greatest Thief in the World.
Tonight's production in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
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And now, Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood sound stage, Mr. James Mason,
in Elliot Lewis's production of The Greatest Thief in the World.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Once again the squire had struck, this time to the tune of 14,000 pounds in Oriental jewels.
Once again the resources of Scotland Yard were unable to discover one shred of evidence.
It was useless to bring Peter Marriott in for questioning because we had no proof of his complicity.
There was nothing to do but intensify our surveillance and hope that a piece of the stolen jewelry would turn up,
or that one of our informers would uncover something.
On November 26, 1949, Marriott drove down to Kent and the estate of Lord Simon Leddington.
Again, we had no knowledge of the conversation that took place during that visit.
I say Joan. Hello. Just running over to Paddock Wood. Want to come? Love to.
Hop in.
Headache? Murderous. Too much for me last night.
Take an aspirin. You'll need it for tonight.
If I have one more hot-buttered rum, I'll die.
Not you, Peter. I say, Daddy was furious with me this morning.
Oh? Why?
Well, for behaving the way I did with you.
He saw us kissing in the playroom. Said I had no right to lead you on,
but you were a very nice young man and deserved a better fate.
His lordship was a discerning man.
Peter?
What were you doing in the library this morning?
Nothing. Why?
Well, I saw you looking at the safe. Just like a burglar. Very suspicious.
Rubbish. Probably nothing in it, anyway.
Besides, no self-respecting cracksman would touch a thing like that. It's too easy to open.
I bet the Squire would.
He was a very frank amateur. He learned everything from me.
Do you want anything in the village?
Drop me at a pillow box. I've got a couple of cards to post.
Right. I'll meet you in half an hour outside the cinema.
Our man followed Marriott when he left Lady Joan Leadington's car in Paddock Wood.
He posted two cards, then strolled down the road to the Hotel Rackham.
When he went into the tavern, our man remained outside.
What'll you have, sir?
Double scotch.
Johnny Walker, sir?
All right.
Right, cheer water.
Bit of pre-Christmas cheer, huh?
I don't like this. Outside. See? In the mirror.
Ah.
I think the man from the yard. I've noticed him hanging about.
That won't do at all. What does it look like in the house?
The devil should I know. Give me time, can't you?
A bit touchy, aren't you?
My dear old boy, in this business one can't get nerdy. You ought to know that.
You should have stayed in London.
No, it's better this way. We can keep an eye on one another.
Oh, that's not a buck you have.
Double scotch, sir.
On November 30th, Marriott returned to London.
We had an idea that he'd contacted someone in Rackham Hotel Tavern.
Possibly the elusive stranger we knew to be meeting Marriott from time to time.
In any event, we kept a man at Paddock Wood.
No attempt was made during the next three weeks upon Lord Lettington's house.
And we kept a man at the house.
On December 21st, it was noted that Peter Marriott visited Virginia Hibbert in Hammersmith at a late hour.
You really have no consideration for me at all, really.
You haven't found time the night to come calling.
I'm sorry, Ginny, but I had to talk to you.
Oh? What's up?
Please listen. I may have to go away.
I'm sorry, Ginny, but I had to talk to you.
Oh? What's up?
I may have to go away. I may not be able to see you again.
Not ever?
Ever. You're a good girl.
Sometimes I haven't been kind, but I've always known that I could trust you.
It hasn't just been making use of you.
I hope not.
Ginny, that man who came to ask you about me...
Has he got something to do with it?
Yes. I knew him a long time ago in Canada.
Oh.
We worked together.
It was in a mining town.
One night there was a game, a poker game.
It ended in a fight.
My face was badly slashed and I... I shot a man.
Lummy.
I ran away and a doctor did a plastic surgery job on my face.
I changed my name too.
The bloke who came back, is he the one you...
No, no, no. The man I shot was a miner.
The fellow who came back was the one I worked with.
I thought he'd been killed in the fight.
Oh.
Now you see why I was afraid when you told me about him.
He knows about that man that I killed.
The dirty rotter blackmailing you, eh?
Yes, that's right, Ginny.
I'm going to have to do something about it.
The police are following me.
So you see, I can't let this thing go on.
There's some money in here. I want you to take it.
You don't have to do that. You've treated me all right.
I don't want your money. I don't want you to go away.
It's for you. There's a thousand pounds here.
No.
Take you, Ginny, and get out of London.
Go to some nice little town and get married.
No. I want to be with you.
Take me with you. I could learn to be a lady.
Honest, I'd try.
You are. Don't worry about that.
Dear Ginny.
Don't go, Peter. Don't go, please.
Maybe I'll come back.
And if I do, I'll look for you.
Truly?
Truly.
Give us a kiss.
On the morning of December 22, 1949,
our file on Peter Marriott was still inconclusive.
He was a strong suspect,
but there was the other man whom we knew he had seen from time to time.
There was now the possibility that he was the squire.
We expected an attempt on Lord Lettington's house
and kept our detective in Parrock Wood.
That same night, on the 22nd,
Lord Lettington's safe was opened
and a large amount of currency, as well as jewelry, was stolen.
The plain clothesman we'd left to guard the estate
was later found unconscious in some bushes.
You were an idiot to come back to the hotel.
They'll be looking for you.
Or you.
Quite a haul.
I like the paper best.
Diamonds are pretty, but there are bloody nuisances to get rid of.
You won't have to worry about that any more.
Oh?
I'm fed up.
Things were all right with me before you showed up.
But think how much nicer it is for me.
You've been such a help.
I can do so much better business with you.
It's finished.
Come on, now. You'll do better after a drink.
Well, I'll have to get away from here.
At least you'll have to.
I imagine half of Scotland Yard will be here soon.
What about that detective?
I put him out.
He'll live.
Not a very nice Christmas present, I'm afraid.
Ah, here we are.
Cheers.
I meant it, you know.
About us.
No. No, you didn't.
Because you wouldn't like people to know, would you?
It doesn't matter.
Oh, but it does.
What do they do to murderers in Canada?
Hang them?
Or that delightful American system?
Electricity?
You're a fool.
Do you think I've spent these years getting where I have
to allow you to come along and mug it up?
You've had it too soft, Peter.
You're spoiled.
You're the one who's had it soft.
I could talk, too.
You know, I have an idea that you're threatening me.
That's not very healthy, is it?
No.
I shouldn't try it, Peter.
Whatever you're thinking.
Turn around.
Why?
I don't want to shoot you in the back.
Is that what you're going to do?
Kill me?
Turn around.
Don't do it, old boy.
I have a gun, too.
I'll count three.
One.
I was always a better shot than you, remember?
Two.
Last chance. Put down your gun.
Three.
We found the body of Peter Marrett in the bedroom of the hotel
raccoon, Paddock Wood Kent.
He'd been shot once through the head,
and the pistol lay by his side.
The jewels stolen from Lord Leadington's safe were on the
dressing table.
The currency was missing.
However, there were one or two points still left unanswered.
The gun was devoid of fingerprints.
The deceased was not wearing gloves at the time his body
was discovered.
There was further the question of an open window and marks on
the sill.
Scotland Yard still is not certain who went through that
window, an unknown assailant or the squire.
Suspense presented by Auto Light.
Tonight's star, Mr. James Mason.
Friends, this is Harlow Wilcox again to remind you that Auto
Light is the world's largest independent manufacturer of
automotive electrical equipment.
Auto Light makes over 400 products for cars, trucks,
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See him soon and have worn-out spark plugs replaced with
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and gas savings.
And remember, you're always right with Auto Light.
Next week on Suspense, another play suggested by actual events.
The case for Dr. Singer.
The story, atomic spies in the United States today, how they
operate, how they are caught.
Presented on Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with
music composed by Lucian Moraweck and conducted by
Ludd Gluskin.
The greatest thief in the world was written for suspense by
Anthony Ellis.
Featured in tonight's play were Pamela Colino, Joseph Kerns,
Ben Wright, Eileen Erskine, Raymond Lawrence, and Ted
Osborne.
James Mason will soon be seen in his own production,
Lady Possessed, in which he appears with Pamela Colino.
Remember, next week on Suspense, a tale we call the case for
Dr. Singer.
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