You are about to hear a story based on actual events.
To protect the innocent, names and places have been changed.
Auto Light and its 96,000 dealers bring you Mr. Herbert Marshall in a story taken from life.
Tonight's presentation of Suspense.
Tonight, Auto Light presents Betrayal in Vienna, the true story of a man who traitorously destroyed an empire, starring Mr. Herbert Marshall.
Well, there's Stanley Smart, baseball's genial genius. How do you like the series, Stan?
The World Series, Hollow?
No, no, no. The intricate series of Auto Light units that make up the electrical system of your Auto Light equipped car.
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And all those units and their thousands of component parts are related like a team by Auto Light engineering design and manufacturing skill to give you the smoothest performance money can buy.
Never break up that winning combination, Hollow.
Right you are, Stan. So friends, if your Auto Light equipped car needs replacement parts, insist on Auto Light original factory parts. You'll find it pays.
And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light.
And now with Betrayal in Vienna and the performance of Mr. Herbert Marshall, Auto Light hopes once again to keep you in...
...suspense.
September 15, 1913.
Today started much like any other, but one thing I now understand.
It will end differently.
And more than the day will end, much more.
This afternoon I called, as I often do, on the countess von Venal.
I asked not to be announced and stood unnoticed in the doorway.
Her charming salon was crowded with guests and overflowing with music and the familiar brilliant scene was suddenly precious to me.
Then I heard Lieutenant Haushofer's voice, low but sharp in my ear.
Colonel. Yes.
We've just received word, Helsinger was shot this morning as a spy.
Come.
Now, where did you hear?
1426 o'clock. A wireless message from Petersburg to the Russian embassy.
May I fetch you something, sir?
Water? Here, let me help you to a chair.
No, I'll be all right.
Sir, I know, everyone knows how much Captain Helsinger meant to you.
The report said he died with great courage.
Enough?
Yes, sir.
They've done us the courtesy of sending his body home. Have you any instructions, sir?
Talk to General Stracker, arrange a military funeral with all honors.
Of course, sir.
That's all.
Yes, sir.
Ask a Helsinger dead. I'd known, of course, but like a stupid child I'd hoped and believed some miracle would save him.
Somehow I found the strength to leave.
It was dusk, the blue hour.
Up and down the broad avenues lights were coming on.
I hailed a cab to go to the post office and sitting alone in the back of the carriage I suddenly knew I had to leave Vienna.
Say goodbye for good.
Never had I felt so old.
My driver stopped at the side entrance to the central post office.
I told him to wait.
Before I went in I turned the collar of my topcoat up and pulled my hat brim down.
It was closing time and the great building was almost deserted.
I crossed to the main desk.
Yes, sir?
Opera box number 13.
Well, the letters are just to opera box number 13.
Yes, of course, sir. I look. One moment.
I am in a hurry.
Yes, sir, I am looking. I don't seem to find...
You're sure there are letters, sir? I mean addressed like you said?
Certainly. They've been here weeks. I've been too busy to call for them.
Yes, sir, but I don't see...
You're looking on the wrong side. The box is to your right there.
Oh, yes, sir. I was confused. I'm sorry.
Here you are, sir.
Thank you.
Sir, just a minute.
Yes?
Did you notice, sir? Does it look like rain tonight?
I mean, did you notice the weather?
The weather?
There's not a cloud or breath of wind. Good night.
Kaiserhof Cafe. Hurry.
I look back. A man was running across the street toward the post office.
I wondered then had I almost stepped into that abyss which for two long years had yawned at my feet.
I opened the letters with my penknife. In one envelope, 6,000 kronen. In the other, 8,000.
No note. No writing of any kind.
I put the money in my wallet, folded the envelopes and put them in my pocket.
14,000 kronen in my pocket. 300,000 in a bank of Rome.
I was rich. Very rich. And having made my decision to leave, I was free.
At the Kaiserhof Cafe, I changed to another cab. A routine precaution and went to my hotel.
There I put on my dress uniform for the last time. I looked in the mirror and saluted myself.
Said goodbye to being Colonel Alfred Riedel, commander of the 8th Corps, creator of the Emperor Franz Josef's Black Cabinet.
Colonel Alfred Riedel. A name whispered with terror in every capital of the world.
I decided to dine at Holbombs and asked for a table where I could watch the dancing.
Good evening, Colonel Riedel.
Good evening.
I'm sorry, sir. I see you don't remember me.
But I do very well, huh?
Istanbul, 1909. I sent you there in July and you remained through November.
In your reports you complained of the heat, but you nevertheless did a good job.
Your number was Q41. You're an Austrian citizen. Your mother was Greek. And you speak both Greek and Turkish.
Oh, that's enough, sir. I've won my wager.
Wager?
I told my friend, he's sitting over at that table, that I met you only once, five years ago. It was certain you'd remember me.
I was right. Your memory's infallible. And what a blessing in your work, Herr Colonel.
A mixed blessing, my friend.
Oh, I see what you mean, sir. I suppose there are some things in every man's life he'd just as soon forget.
Exactly.
But he was thinking of the innocent follies of a man's youth, while I was thinking, remembering again with eye-seeked clarity that day two years ago when my secret life began.
How I wished I could forget that day. For until then I enjoyed my life, my friends, most of all my work.
For I had created a secret service which I could have matched with Scott and Yard or the Dersim Bureau.
But that day I remembered it was cool and bright and I drove early as usual to the Abwunden Gesellschaft, that vast beehive of activity which I directed.
I hurried through the many self-locking doors, the labyrinth I had created, the web I had built.
And to that last I reached the center of the web where I, the spider, lived.
There were several people in my outer office, among them Oscar Helsinger, my dearest friend, the person I trusted above any man in the world.
When I came in, he embraced me.
Congratulations, Alfred.
For what?
I was telling Lieutenant Househover today's an important anniversary. Six years to the day since you and I were assigned to counter-respy now.
She is. And I suppose we can congratulate ourselves.
Lieutenant Househover, do I have any appointments?
There's someone waiting inside. And this man, he's one of the agents you assigned to follow Madame Boudin.
Oh yes, well, has she been arrested?
Well, no sir, not yet.
She's still under surveillance?
Well, not exactly, Herr Colonel.
Then tell me exactly.
She's... we don't know where she is. She gave us the slip.
Impossible.
Well, first she went into the flower market through the east door. We stayed right behind her, Fritz and me.
Idiots! One of you should have covered the front door.
Yes sir, I know. Inside the market we lost her in the crowd. And then by luck I spotted her later near the bridge. Fritz wasn't with me.
You lost her twice?
Well, she's clever, Madame Boudin. She was walking fast and she dropped something. I leaned down to pick it up and when I looked up she was gone. It was just her handkerchief she dropped.
I don't care if it was the blueprints or the fortifications on the man. On page 31 of my manual I say that one should never change objectives. Your objective was Madame Boudin, not the contents of her purse.
Yes sir.
You and the other agent are relieved of further duties. Dismissed.
Yes sir.
You said someone else was waiting for me, Lieutenant Hussop?
Yes sir, in your office. It's Major Rakovsky, sir, the new charge d'affaires at the Russian Embassy. Probably a courtesy call.
Ask her to wait for me.
Oh, no hurry Alfred.
Good morning Major Rakovsky.
Good morning Colonel Raylore.
Sit down Major.
Thank you.
Cigar Major?
No.
Excuse me then.
Now then, I'm very busy Rakovsky. Can we come to the point or save it for another day?
To the point. I quite agree. I don't enjoy a chess game when I have my opponent's queen. I have yours Raylore. You're a checkmated.
You are sure you don't want a cigar?
I neither smoke cigars nor opium.
Indeed.
Yes. Some men smoke both.
To the point Major.
That, Herr Raylore, is the point. The period. And the sentence preceding this period, you will henceforth deliver to me as the representative of the Tsar of the Russia's all secret military plans of the Imperial Austro-Hungarian armies.
Is that all?
For the present?
If I for one moment took you seriously, you wouldn't leave this building alive.
And what's one life more or less? But the secret, the secret of one Alfred Raylore, that he is a dope addict, that secret plus facts, names, places, dates is in the files of my embassy.
Unless you agree, those facts will be brought first to the attention of General Stryker, then to France yourself himself.
Let me assure you this is no pipe dream, Herr Raylore. This is real. And these 20,000 gold kronen are also real. We'll arrange future payments through the post office.
You wonder why we pay when we don't have to, huh?
Because the money will be some consolation for you and we are not unfriendly.
Come here, Raylore, you needn't fear you'll be discovered. Who'd suspect a man in your position? Well, I know this has been sudden, but you realize you have no choice.
No choice.
One week from today then at the Este Cafe on Birkenstrasse. You'll be there at two. Good day, Herr Raylore.
Oh, Alfred, finished?
Oh, yes, finished.
Why, you look pale, Alfred. I didn't notice before.
I'm tired.
Oh, you work too hard. Oh, I have a gift for you. Special memento for today. For the anniversary I mentioned. Here, it's a pen knife.
A knife?
You're thinking the old saying about a knife between friends, but it doesn't mean friends like you and me. You know, I wanted to have that silk sheath embroidered with your name and insignia, but there wasn't time. I can still have it done.
No need, no, I'll have it done. It's a beautiful piece of work, a knife.
I thought so.
Oscar, tell me, what creature devours spiders?
Why, I don't know.
I'll tell you, Oscar.
Another spider.
Spiders devour everything.
Even their own.
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Herbert Marshall in Betrayal in Vienna. Tonight's production in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Say, Harlow, who's the lead standout?
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And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light.
And now, Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood soundstage Mr. Herbert Marshall in Elliot Lewis's production of Betrayal in Vienna.
A dramatic report well calculated to keep you in suspense.
I, the spider, devouring even my own, betraying my own, my country, my friends. But it's not really hard to betray your friends, not at first.
The world doesn't change for you overnight. The sun shines in the morning and warms you. And a woman is still beautiful.
Everything goes on as it did for a while. For myself, I constructed excuses. That plan for the three-pronged invasion of Serbia, which I handed over, can be changed.
Then the Russians' information will be useless. As soon as I conquer the opium habit, and I am conquering it, I'll be free.
Yes, I explained to myself, comforted myself. But still at night, I often felt a chill go through me.
For in the dark corners of my mind, I knew I was a traitor to my people, my friends, my country.
Reidel, we have decided on the following plan. You'll arrest one of our spies, a certain Austrian named Zane. You'll put him on trial. You may sentence him to death.
Am I permitted to ask why? Zane is expendable, shall we say? But that's not our major purpose. You're a mastered intrigue. Suppose you give me your guess.
I will catch a Russian spy. I will force him to confession, since I will know everything about him using your files. The public will be amazed, shocked, pleased.
I will be an even greater hero, and therefore more valuable to you.
Reidel, I fully believe you are worth the 100,000 kroner a year we pay you. It's a small price for the destruction of an empire.
If I may be so bold, here, Reidel, that's the first stupid statement I've ever heard you make. You're not destroying this empire. Corruption and decadence are doing that. A thousand and one corruptions, not yours alone.
Are we more corrupt than you? We are not corrupt, in my opinion. Then you are a fool.
Perhaps. But I'm a fool who's calling the tune, whereas you're a wise man who's dancing to it. Am I right, Herr Reidel?
He was right. I danced to his tune. I had to. I ordered the arrest of the Austrian citizen Adolf Zane. He went on trial, charged with treason, with betrayal of his country to the Russians.
The trial was an enormous success. I stunned the court and astonished the world with my knowledge of Zane. I knew every step he'd taken for the past five years, every penny he'd collected, every secret he'd sold.
But how could you know this? How could you possibly know it?
A lesson. Confine yourself to answering questions, Herr Zane. Proceed, Colonel Reidel.
On the 19th of March at 11 p.m. you turned over to a Russian representative all the correspondence, the most secret correspondence between our beloved emperor and the Kaiser of the Germans. Isn't that true?
Yes. Yes, it's true. But how could you know?
Do you know the penalty for your crime? Yes. Tell me.
Death. By hanging. And what else? What else? I don't know.
The convicted traitor will be buried in civilian clothes in an unmarked grave.
Colonel, for the love... I wasn't the only one. What about Arnold Sonderheim? He's just as guilty as Zane.
You will answer questions. And Hoffman Kish. He's been a spy for two years right in the bureau. Silence!
Colonel Reidel, if this man has accomplices, surely the court wishes to hear. Of course, your honor, but...
While it cannot save this miserable man's life to tell us their names, it will in some way redeem him in the eyes of his countrymen.
Proceed, Adolf Zane.
It wasn't that I was afraid he would betray me. He didn't know. Nobody knew except Major Rakowski himself.
But I had been ordered to arrest one spy, try one spy, have one spy executed. And now he was implicating others.
When the trial ended, I was congratulated by the Crown Prince himself. I was the most celebrated man in the Empire.
But at three that morning, I was summoned to a meeting. You fool! We gave you Zane, not Sonderheim and Kish.
I could not control him. You had the brains. You pretend you... No, never mind. The damage is done.
Now, we want the name of your top agent in Petersburg. No. I hope that was an involuntary no.
I no longer use Opium, Major. I'm no longer your man. Ah? And how about the letters addressed to Opera Box 13, Herr Reidel?
The letters fat with Cronon you've called for so regularly. You're no longer a dope addict, but you're a traitor.
Then we can prove it. Now, come. The name of your top agent. But why? For what?
Your prestige has been built up at great expense to us. Now, we must repair our own prestige. I won't do it.
Plans are one thing. People are another. Ah! Don't be naive. When your Austrian army is marched, they'll be sliced to ribbons because of you.
Thousands of men will die. Men I don't know. Don't trifle with us, Reidel. The name.
In Helsingfors there's a man, Yalmar Kikkonen. There are nobody. I want your key man.
Your key man, Reidel? Who is in Petersburg? In Petersburg? No one in Petersburg. There is that much we know. His name. His name!
There is an importer on the Nevsky Prospekt. His name is Melanchinsky. He is our top agent. Ah! His real name is Oskar Helsinger. He is my friend.
When Oskar was arrested, he smuggled a message out to me. Alfred, someone close to you betrayed me. Find out who.
I thought then of suicide, but I waited, hoping for some miracle. Then today word came that he was dead.
And I knew there was nothing left for me in Vienna. But in Italy, in the sun...
I didn't finish my dinner. I decided to pack and leave Vienna immediately and catch the train for Rome that leaves shortly after midnight.
At my hotel I started across the great, bright, nearly deserted lobby. Colonel Reidel! Yes?
We found this silk thing. Looks like a knife sheath. Is it yours? Where did you find it?
I must have dropped it when I left my room. I valued it a great deal, you. You'll see it was a gift from a friend.
From a dead friend, betrayed by me, his dead hand reaching out to trap me. For at that moment I knew I was lost.
Knew with dreadful certainty where I had dropped the sheath. In the cab, the fiat I took from the post office. It had been found there by...
Slowly I looked around the lobby and saw them. Drabbly dressed men, too obviously not looking in my direction.
The postal clerk had signaled them when I called for the letters. They'd arrived too late, but somehow by some stroke of... of impossible luck...
They'd found the cab I took and they traced me to my hotel.
Where's your elevator, sir? I'm not going up. Yes, sir? I've a headache. I think I'll take a walk.
When I went out through the big revolving door I knew without looking that the two men were behind me. My boots rang on the paving.
But when I stopped, their footsteps sounded a moment behind me. I crossed the park. They followed.
I knew they wouldn't kill me in the street. The government wouldn't risk the scandal. But with pain and pride I knew too they would surely kill me somewhere.
For men from the organization I had created would follow their quarry to the ends of the earth.
I ducked in through a great coffee house and cut out another door. One was waiting there. The other followed me through.
I tried to trick them then by tearing the envelopes to bits. The envelope was marked opera box number 13, screwing the paper in their path.
But they were well trained by me. They never faltered. They left the evidence blowing down the dark street in order not to lose their man.
Then I knew it was hopeless. I went back to my hotel and sat down in my room to wait.
The door is unlocked. Gentlemen, I've been expecting you. Good evening, Prince Otto. Good evening, General.
Good evening, Lieutenant Hauswoffer. Colonel Reddell, we would like a complete account of all your activities.
I will write an account if you'll permit me the time. Of course.
Colonel, how could you have done it? It wasn't difficult.
Treason takes over a man's heart as the camel invaded the poor Arab's tent. A little at a time. At first, a man betrays himself.
But how, sir? A man like you.
I endowed myself. I was an opium addict. Committed to opium, I was forced to commit myself further.
Have you a gun, Colonel?
That's the best way, of course.
Have you a gun? No, sir.
Lieutenant? I have a Luger. General Stryker, I believe, carries a Mauser.
I prefer the Luger. Here you are, then, sir.
Come, gentlemen. We will wait downstairs.
Now it is all written down. Outside, the cathedral is striking midnight. Midnight, September 15, 1913.
I look out over the sleeping city, east, where the sky will pale before the rising sun.
There, in the east, the Russians are ready. To the west, facing our German ally, the French, too, are ready.
I have made them so. In six months, in a year, two years at the most, those armies will march.
Whatever the outcome, I would have made my contribution, but I won't be here to see it.
I'll lie in an unmarked grave. I've said goodbye to Vienna, to all I loved.
Now it is time to say goodbye to Alfred Redl.
When I snap off the safety on this gun, when I pull the trigger, it'll be the end of an empire, of an era.
Suspense presented by Auto Light, tonight's star, Mr. Herbert Marshall.
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Next week on Suspense, our star will be Mr. Cornell Wild in another story based on actual events, the terrifying study of a pyromaniac, a dramatic report we call The Flame.
In weeks to come, we shall also present Mr. Ray Milland and Mr. Richard Widmark, all on Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis, with music composed by Lucian Moroweck and conducted by Lud Bluskin.
Betrayal in Vienna was adapted for Suspense by Sylvia Richards from research gathered by Dana Lee Thomas.
Joining tonight's cast were Ben Wright, Joseph Kearns, William Johnstone, Herb Butterfield.