WEBVTT

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Auto Light and its 98,000 dealers bring you Miss Agnes Moorhead.

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In tonight's presentation of Suspense.

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Tonight Auto Light presents the exciting new radio play by the originator of Suspense,

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Mr. William Spear.

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The story is called Death and Miss Turner, our star, the first lady of Suspense, Miss

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Agnes Moorhead.

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Hey, Harlow.

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Howdy, Sheriff.

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Arrest anyone lately?

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No, but I want to check up on you because I heard you've been boasting you've got a system

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that can't lose.

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Why, Sheriff, of course my system can't lose.

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It's the best there is, the Auto Light electrical system on my Auto Light equipped car.

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My every unit and component part is related by Auto Light engineering design and manufacturing

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skill to give the smoothest performance money can buy.

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What system is that, Harlow?

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The electrical system, Sheriff, including the Auto Light starting motor, distributor,

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coil, generator, battery, spark plugs, and all the other parts of the complete Auto Light

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electrical system installed as original equipment on many leading makes of our finest cars,

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trucks, and tractors.

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You mean you're always right with the Auto Light electrical system?

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You sure are, Sheriff.

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That's why it pays to insist on Auto Light original factory parts for your Auto Light

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equipped car.

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And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light.

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And now, Auto Light presents transcribed, Diff and Miss Turner, starring Miss Agnes

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Moorhead, hoping once again to keep you in suspense.

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We went out for a walk this morning.

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I was dead and I went out for a walk.

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Miss Briggs went with me.

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It was her idea.

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I wouldn't have particularly thought of it.

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She brought the new picture in this morning.

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She took my chair and stood on it and took off one shoe and hammered the nail in the

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wall and hung the picture up.

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She asked me if it was hanging straight and I said, I thought so.

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And she said, well, and she took off her glasses and gave me a little inquiring expression.

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She always does that after she's done something for me.

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She wants my approval.

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So I looked at the picture hanging there and I smiled and I said, it's lovely.

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Plain black frame.

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Yes, you're right.

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That's just the right frame for it.

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I beg your pardon?

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The frame.

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I said it's good.

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The frame?

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Yes.

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Yes.

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There are some other pictures downstairs we could have framed if you like.

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That would be a lot of trouble, wouldn't it?

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Not a bit.

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I think I could, I could sleep some more.

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There's a headache just hovering over me.

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I don't want to wait until it gets me.

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Of course, you'll finish your nap.

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You know what might be nice though later on?

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To get some air, go for a stroll in the park.

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Go out today and have lunch somewhere nice like 96 Piccadilly or Claridge's.

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How about it?

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I'll ring up and reserve a table.

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Cool.

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Maybe I can borrow that red coat that's hanging up in there.

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Yes.

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That's fine, Rachel.

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I was dead, long, long dead, and I went out for a walk.

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My name is Rachel.

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Yes, there can't be any doubt about that now.

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And then the American meets the Englishman and says, well, how are things here, old boy?

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And the Englishman says, better than next year.

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I know, it's pulling a long face, like my dad always says, if I could get a steak, I couldn't

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afford it anyway.

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Are you getting tired, dear, sir?

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You've seen enough of London for today?

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Oh, no, no, I'm enjoying this so very much, as long as we don't walk too fast.

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We're not, are we?

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Oh, no, it's lovely.

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How long have you been in London, Rachel?

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You know I can't tell you that, Miss Briggs.

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Yes, of course.

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You're just hoping that I just might let something sort of slip accidentally, aren't you, Miss

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Briggs?

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Yes, I guess so.

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It would be nice, wouldn't it?

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No, no, it wouldn't.

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Don't count on it, Miss Briggs.

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It's not going to happen.

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I can't risk it.

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Look, there's a fine shop where I got our new picture done this morning.

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The black frame you like so much.

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He's framing some more for us.

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Let's just go in and see how he's coming along.

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Is this the new shop?

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Yes, it is.

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Hello there, anybody in?

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Who's that?

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Oh, Miss Briggs, isn't it?

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How are we today?

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Fine, thank you, Mr. Putney.

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My friend here and I thought we'd just look in and see how a little job of work is going.

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I see, I see.

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Yes, yes, that was the four oils by, who was it?

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Ah, Turner, that's it, Turner.

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Let's see.

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Ah, no, no, I'm afraid we haven't got them yet.

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There they are hanging up there on the line.

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They're awfully good, aren't they, Miss Briggs?

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Who did you say...

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I've been here before.

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Make a pardon?

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It was the same.

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Oh, I'm afraid not.

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You see...

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What do you mean?

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I tell you...

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Well, I only just opened my shop four days ago.

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Well, I'm not talking about your shop necessarily, Mr. Putney, but these.

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Oh, these paintings.

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I don't know.

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Miss Briggs brought them in by Turner.

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Turner?

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That's preposterous.

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JM Turner?

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Why, these have nothing to do with him.

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In the first place, he was watercolor, in the second place, landscape, and in the third...

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Not, not JM Turner.

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Another Turner.

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The sign.

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Ah, Turner.

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Oh.

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Interesting painter, this one, don't you think?

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Not exactly macabre, but something shivery about it.

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All four of them seem to have a...

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Well, I guess you'd call it an ominous overtone.

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Really?

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I don't feel that particularly.

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Wouldn't you call it a little nightmarey when a painter goes to this much trouble?

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All this detail, painting a man, his hands, his suit, the handkerchief in his pocket,

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the carnation in his buttonhole, and then leaves out his face.

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In all four paintings, no face.

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I see a face.

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Yes.

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Of course.

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Well, not complete, not to fill in features, but the qualities of this man's face are

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all there for me, even though they're not there for you.

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I should know this man if I met him.

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We must be going.

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He's dead, I think.

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We rode back in a taxi, Miss Briggs and I.

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She had a bundle which Mr. Putney said she'd ordered or something.

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I wasn't listening to them.

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Every time I opened my mouth to say something, I gave them an advantage.

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Every time I went out for a walk with one of them, like today, I showed things in my

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expression that told them what they wanted to know.

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I'd fallen into the trap when Miss Briggs had suggested that walk this morning.

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I'd been weak.

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I should never have gone.

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I want to be dead, and I won't be brought back from it.

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Oh, how did that fit you?

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Yes.

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What have you got there?

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This?

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Some stuff I ordered the other day for Mr. Putney.

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Oh, what is it?

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You laugh.

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No, no.

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Well, I know it's foolish, but as my dad says, think hard.

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Never do a royal flush.

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I must say, I don't know what that means.

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Quite a knock-card player.

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Anyway, it's something I've always wanted to have a private dabble at.

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They say it relaxes the nerves.

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And who knows?

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I'm younger than Grandma Moses.

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Paints.

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You bought a box of paints.

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And brushes.

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This one, if you please, costs two guineas.

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It's for the fine detail work, he says.

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Sable.

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Huh?

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It's a sable brush.

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And these things, you mix your colors on them.

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Colors.

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And then there's, whatever, this is fixative.

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And well, anyway, I've gone and got a perfect smasher of a real professional kit.

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Now, someone will teach me to draw a straight line.

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You didn't buy this box of paints for yourself, did you, Miss Blake?

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Well, whatever.

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You bought them for me.

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That was it, wasn't it?

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I was a painter.

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That's what you're waiting for me to find out.

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R. Turner, the painter who does portraits of a man without a face.

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It's Rachel Turner.

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Is that it?

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I don't remember it, but is that it?

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Am I Rachel Turner?

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I've...

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Wait here.

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I'm going to get Dr. Greig.

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I looked at the door a moment after she'd gone.

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Then a square of white became the only thing in the room.

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I picked up a canvas board.

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I drew a chair forward and popped the canvas against it.

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I was doing my best not to sink.

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Not to govern my actions, simply to allow whatever might happen.

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My hand was tearing away the cellophane wrapper from the charcoal.

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I leaned over the square of white prop there on the chair, and like plunging a dagger into

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a white body, I invaded the whiteness of the canvas with a bold and perfectly symmetrical

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oval in black, done with one stroke.

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Charcoal fell from my hand.

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Now the oil was spreading onto the palette, save a brush stabbing into the colors, blending

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them to make a perfect flesh tone.

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Why?

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For what sake?

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For the roaring in my ears like the sound of a train rushing through the night.

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Rachel?

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Well, we meet at last.

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That is to say we meet as people meet in a drawing room, a cocktail party perhaps, where

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the hostess hasn't had the time to introduce us all around.

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We find each other elbow to elbow at the punch bowl.

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At this moment, you who smile to me as I hand you your glass, and I say, my name is Grice.

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I'm Rachel Turner.

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I'm a painter.

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Oh?

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The subject on which I'm dreadfully ill-informed.

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I'm a psychologist myself.

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Sir Bartley Grice, of Her Majesty's College of Medicine.

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Evans?

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Not only a painter, but a positive encyclopedist.

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How could you know that?

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Have we met before?

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We've not met at all this way.

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We don't meet, you and I, Sir Bartley, until some months in this year, 1952, when you were

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my doctor.

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And I am a patient who has lost her memory.

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How much do you know now, Miss Turner?

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You're going to be sorry.

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More than that, you'll be the object all the murderous hatred my tortured soul is capable

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of if you persist in bringing me back.

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I shall risk that.

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Many people hate me.

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I save many others from being hated.

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You were, you painted this just now in those fifteen minutes while Miss Briggs and I were

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talking?

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Yes.

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It's remarkable.

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It's amazing to me.

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It's wonderful.

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This man's face, why him?

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I mean, for what reason this particular countenance?

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Is he real from life?

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Yes.

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What's his name then?

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Who is he?

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I don't know.

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I, I saw him only once.

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Well then, why do you feel compelled to bring back this face to show to yourself again now?

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Why?

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It's the face of the man I murdered.

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Auto Light is bringing you Miss Agnes Moorhead in Death and Miss Turner.

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Tonight's presentation in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, suspense.

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Say, Harlow, does my car have an auto light electrical system?

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It sure does, Sheriff.

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For yours is one of the many leading makes of our finest cars, trucks, and tractors equipped

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with an auto light electrical system.

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And auto light is the world's largest independent manufacturer of automotive electrical equipment.

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What kind of chores does this system do, Harlow?

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Well Sheriff, it goes to work at the flick of the ignition switch and performs every

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second your engine runs.

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It works too every time you turn on your radio, sound your horn, use your electric windshield

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wiper or heater.

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That's why it will pay you to treat the electrical system of your car to a periodic checkup at

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your car dealers or authorized auto light service station.

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You can find the location of your nearest authorized auto light service station in the

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classified section of the telephone directory under automobile electrical service.

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Or call Western Union by number and ask for operator 25.

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And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with auto light.

13:38.200 --> 13:43.760
And now, auto light brings back to our Hollywood sound stage Miss Agnes Moorhead in Elliot

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Lewis's production of Death and Miss Turner, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.

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You murdered this man whose face you've painted here?

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Yes, yes I...

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How did you murder him?

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I don't know.

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You have no recall of having actually done it.

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Were you unable to tell yourself where it happened or when?

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No, no I only, I'm sure that I killed him.

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Miss Turner, we're going to give you something to make you sleep.

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Now if you'll just roll up your sleeve Miss Briggs please.

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Please, just a minute dear.

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Yes, for a period of time now.

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We shall need to help you sleep.

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I hope it'll be a brief one.

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You've wanted to sleep a great deal of recent months, haven't you?

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Yes, because you were afraid of reality, of your thoughts while awake.

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Well, you were always dozing off, taking a nap, staying in bed till half the day was

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gone.

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Now...

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Now I know I'm a murderer.

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So I've earned the right to be drugged into forgetting it for a few hours.

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I was already dead.

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I'd forgotten.

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Why couldn't I have been allowed to die?

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Why not have hung before while it didn't matter?

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But for what?

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Well for a murder you can't describe, of a man whose death in circumstances pointing to

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violence we have no record.

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Why no one on earth has come forward to accuse you of any crime.

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How did you find me?

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What was I doing?

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Where was I when you found me?

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You must remember what happened yourself.

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Live through that horror again.

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Only then will you know what is true.

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In the meantime I shall help you in every way I can.

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Hate me if you like.

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It's better than hating yourself.

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Good night, Miss Turner.

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So many years to remember.

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A life brought back to be my own.

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The figures and landscapes and people which belonged to me when nothing had been mine

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the day before.

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It was all there up until my birthday.

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What happened on the 16th of April?

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I remember the night before, it was the last thing I remembered until the waking here in

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the hospital on the first day of May.

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I was standing in the lobby of the hotel just having got off that rickety elevator and my

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bag was packed.

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It was there at my feet and the porter came around from behind his booth and handed me

16:22.280 --> 16:23.280
an envelope.

16:23.280 --> 16:24.280
After that nothing.

16:24.280 --> 16:31.280
Black.

16:31.280 --> 16:35.480
White.

16:35.480 --> 16:36.480
Piano.

16:36.480 --> 16:37.480
Tune.

16:37.480 --> 16:38.480
Train.

16:38.480 --> 16:39.480
Teach.

16:39.480 --> 16:40.480
Barista.

16:40.480 --> 16:41.480
Lawyer.

16:41.480 --> 16:42.480
Pallet.

16:42.480 --> 16:43.480
Paint.

16:43.480 --> 16:44.480
Porter.

16:44.480 --> 16:45.480
Ticket.

16:45.480 --> 16:46.480
Train.

16:46.480 --> 16:47.480
Snow white.

16:47.480 --> 16:48.480
I beg your pardon.

16:48.480 --> 16:49.480
I beg your pardon.

16:49.480 --> 16:50.480
I beg your pardon.

16:50.480 --> 16:51.480
I beg your pardon.

16:51.480 --> 16:52.480
I beg your pardon.

16:52.480 --> 16:53.480
I beg your pardon.

16:53.480 --> 16:54.480
I beg your pardon.

16:54.480 --> 16:55.480
Snow white.

16:55.480 --> 16:57.480
She has that long train at the boys' cabin.

16:57.480 --> 16:59.480
Oh yes, yes, quite right.

16:59.480 --> 17:00.480
Blood.

17:00.480 --> 17:01.480
Bread.

17:01.480 --> 17:02.480
Train.

17:02.480 --> 17:03.480
A thought.

17:03.480 --> 17:09.960
Miss Turner, have you noticed anything about your response to this word?

17:09.960 --> 17:10.960
Which word?

17:10.960 --> 17:11.960
The word train.

17:11.960 --> 17:12.960
Oh.

17:12.960 --> 17:16.080
I've put it to you three times and each time you for some reason avoided connoting what

17:16.080 --> 17:18.600
one should expect to be the most commonplace definition.

17:18.600 --> 17:23.760
You haven't answered with smoke or wheels or what a station or underground.

17:23.760 --> 17:28.720
Have you any idea why you should be unwilling to recognize the word train as a high-speed

17:28.720 --> 17:31.160
conveyance traveling on wheels on rails?

17:31.160 --> 17:34.600
I don't have any idea.

17:34.600 --> 17:35.600
Book.

17:35.600 --> 17:36.600
Dealer.

17:36.600 --> 17:37.600
Yorkshire.

17:37.600 --> 17:38.600
Train.

17:38.600 --> 17:39.600
Train.

17:39.600 --> 17:40.600
Wreck.

17:40.600 --> 17:41.600
Thank you, Miss Turner.

17:41.600 --> 17:48.960
I think that will do us for the day.

17:48.960 --> 17:53.520
Miss Briggs took me back to my room.

17:53.520 --> 17:54.520
I was in a fever.

17:54.520 --> 17:55.520
I could hardly walk straight.

17:55.520 --> 17:58.520
She kept dabbing at my forehead with her handkerchief, but it didn't do any good.

17:58.520 --> 18:03.600
I could see her lips moving, probably asking me if I was all right and could she help me,

18:03.600 --> 18:05.600
but I couldn't hear her.

18:05.600 --> 18:10.000
There was another horrifying, terrible sound filling my ears.

18:10.000 --> 18:13.760
I held my hands over them, trying to shut it out, but it only grew louder.

18:13.760 --> 18:16.120
In my room, Miss Briggs tried to push me toward the bed.

18:16.120 --> 18:19.800
I could see her lips screaming, you must lie down, but I pressed her out of the way and

18:19.800 --> 18:21.320
lunged for the canvas board.

18:21.320 --> 18:25.720
My hands and arms were numb as though they were floating out of my control, except that

18:25.720 --> 18:26.720
they ached agonizingly.

18:26.720 --> 18:31.720
There were flashes before my eyes, pounding waves that threw my head back and forth as

18:31.720 --> 18:34.720
though I were being battered in some apocalyptic storm.

18:34.720 --> 18:41.720
Came a sightful shrieking, torn from the throat of a damned stolen torment, and I fell forward

18:41.720 --> 18:44.720
on the ground and something fell with me.

18:44.720 --> 18:58.720
And I saw the picture I'd painted, and the voice that was shrieking was my own.

18:58.720 --> 18:59.720
I can't, I can't.

18:59.720 --> 19:00.720
Lie down.

19:00.720 --> 19:01.720
Yes, lie down.

19:01.720 --> 19:02.720
Lie down.

19:02.720 --> 19:05.720
This is it, isn't it?

19:05.720 --> 19:06.720
Oh, yes.

19:06.720 --> 19:09.720
All right, roll up that sleeve.

19:09.720 --> 19:11.720
Yes, now Rachel.

19:11.720 --> 19:13.720
Who did that picture?

19:13.720 --> 19:14.720
Delirious, like a mad woman.

19:14.720 --> 19:15.720
Yes, yes, yes, quiet.

19:15.720 --> 19:16.720
Now Miss Turner.

19:16.720 --> 19:17.720
Are you kidding me?

19:17.720 --> 19:18.720
You're like me, Miss Diamond.

19:18.720 --> 19:19.720
You sting me.

19:19.720 --> 19:20.720
No, the mixture's a little bit different this time, Miss Turner, but it will stop hurting

19:20.720 --> 19:21.720
in just a moment.

19:21.720 --> 19:32.720
There, all ready.

19:32.720 --> 19:42.720
Oh, yes, it won't be long.

19:42.720 --> 19:44.720
This picture you've just done.

19:44.720 --> 19:45.720
Is it good?

19:45.720 --> 19:47.600
I think it's extraordinarily good.

19:47.600 --> 19:49.720
Are you sleeping?

19:49.720 --> 19:52.720
Sleeping, but awake.

19:52.720 --> 19:56.720
Asleep, but not asleep.

19:56.720 --> 20:01.720
Can you describe this picture to me as though I hadn't seen it?

20:01.720 --> 20:11.720
A man sitting in a railway compartment looking out of the window of a train, opposite him

20:11.720 --> 20:14.720
with her back to us is a woman.

20:14.720 --> 20:19.720
It's as though we were the woman whose attention is on this man.

20:19.720 --> 20:21.720
As though we were this woman?

20:21.720 --> 20:22.720
Yes.

20:22.720 --> 20:27.720
Don't you mean that you are this woman, Miss Turner?

20:27.720 --> 20:30.720
Yes, yes, I am.

20:30.720 --> 20:33.720
What day is it now?

20:33.720 --> 20:34.720
My birthday.

20:34.720 --> 20:36.720
April 16th, past April.

20:36.720 --> 20:40.720
Yes, yes, as David said today.

20:40.720 --> 20:45.720
I'm aboard the Flying Scotsman Express.

20:45.720 --> 20:50.720
I'm on my way to Edinburgh to paint the moors.

20:50.720 --> 20:53.720
I'm in the first class compartment.

20:53.720 --> 20:56.720
Alone, I'm relaxed and happy.

20:56.720 --> 21:01.720
I feel the urge to paint something right here as the train goes speeding along.

21:01.720 --> 21:04.720
And what do you paint?

21:04.720 --> 21:11.720
A man, that is the embodiment of a man, his posture, his clothes.

21:11.720 --> 21:16.720
But for some reason, I can't paint his face.

21:16.720 --> 21:22.720
I know his face, but I find it impossible to transfer it to the canvas.

21:22.720 --> 21:28.720
I make four separate versions of him, but each time my brush remains poisonly there,

21:28.720 --> 21:39.720
refusing to invade the oval of white where the face should be.

21:39.720 --> 21:47.720
At Manchester, I get out to stretch my legs, walking up and down the station platform.

21:47.720 --> 21:54.720
And when I resume my compartment, I find that I have a fellow traveler sharing it with me.

21:54.720 --> 21:56.720
He's turned away as I enter.

21:56.720 --> 22:00.720
He's occupied with closing the window as it has begun to rain outside.

22:00.720 --> 22:06.720
As I seat myself opposite him, he turns to face me directly.

22:06.720 --> 22:08.720
He's a man.

22:08.720 --> 22:17.720
It's his face which is missing from the portraits that lie on the chair beside me.

22:17.720 --> 22:19.720
How do you do?

22:19.720 --> 22:21.720
How do you do?

22:21.720 --> 22:22.720
I, I...

22:22.720 --> 22:25.720
How do you do?

22:25.720 --> 22:29.720
Pardon. Do you feel not well?

22:29.720 --> 22:35.720
Forgive me for staring at you. I didn't... I mean looking at you in this way.

22:35.720 --> 22:37.720
It is all right. Fine.

22:37.720 --> 22:40.720
I'm a painter, you see.

22:40.720 --> 22:44.720
A painter? Yes, good. Can I see?

22:44.720 --> 22:50.720
Well, this is the impossible part. Here, you see these pictures?

22:50.720 --> 22:56.720
Hmm? Ah, yes. Very interesting.

22:56.720 --> 23:01.720
I mean, not to know who it is, his face.

23:01.720 --> 23:07.720
Oh, but I do know. I didn't feel I could do the face before, but now I can.

23:07.720 --> 23:11.720
Oh, sure. Why?

23:11.720 --> 23:14.720
Because it's your face.

23:14.720 --> 23:16.720
My face?

23:16.720 --> 23:20.720
What for, my face?

23:20.720 --> 23:23.720
Yes, yes I know it's clear, but...

23:23.720 --> 23:26.720
I mean, you are going to put my face in there?

23:26.720 --> 23:28.720
Yes.

23:28.720 --> 23:34.720
Well, all right. All right. Go ahead.

23:34.720 --> 23:36.720
You mean, now?

23:36.720 --> 23:38.720
Sure.

23:38.720 --> 23:44.720
What do I do? I mean, am I all right to sit here like this?

23:44.720 --> 23:51.720
Yes, yes. Just that way, please. If you tilt your head just a little more.

23:51.720 --> 23:54.720
This is all right? Yes.

23:54.720 --> 23:58.720
You're in the shadow, though. If there was only a little more light.

23:58.720 --> 24:02.720
Good arc. I have it. Would it be too much trouble if we changed places?

24:02.720 --> 24:05.720
There's good light here where I'm sitting.

24:05.720 --> 24:08.720
Pardon? If we change places, I'll sit over there and you...

24:08.720 --> 24:15.720
Oh, uh, change places. Sure.

24:15.720 --> 24:21.720
I sit down where he is in, and he places himself exactly where I've been sitting a moment before.

24:21.720 --> 24:25.720
For a moment he looks at me, smiling.

24:25.720 --> 24:30.720
And then, it's happening. There was a grinding, cracking sound.

24:30.720 --> 24:34.720
Most of the steam of the door is still smiling to pie.

24:34.720 --> 24:39.720
And then an inferno of splintering wooden glass and rending steel came screaming at him.

24:39.720 --> 24:44.720
And the car sent into his place and got him blanking his head.

24:44.720 --> 24:48.720
I killed him. He stayed in places with me.

24:48.720 --> 24:52.720
It was I who was meant to die. It was my life. My life.

24:52.720 --> 24:56.720
I killed him. I killed him.

24:56.720 --> 24:58.720
He killed my dad.

24:58.720 --> 25:05.720
I killed him. I killed him.

25:05.720 --> 25:07.720
I...

25:07.720 --> 25:13.720
I...

25:13.720 --> 25:18.720
No. You didn't kill him. You know that now.

25:18.720 --> 25:31.720
You remember. You come back from the edge of reason.

25:31.720 --> 25:37.720
I'm going home. Sailing at midnight. It'll be midwinter.

25:37.720 --> 25:40.720
The snow on that Connecticut bridge.

25:40.720 --> 25:44.720
Those leafless elves in their rolling, purple shadows.

25:44.720 --> 25:48.720
They gave me a farewell tea this afternoon and I even had a cocktail.

25:48.720 --> 25:51.720
The hostess was much too busy to introduce us all around,

25:51.720 --> 25:55.720
but a very nice gentleman came up to me and introduced himself.

25:55.720 --> 25:58.720
My name is Grice. I'm a psychologist.

25:58.720 --> 26:03.720
I am Rachel Turner. I'm a painter.

26:03.720 --> 26:24.720
Music

26:24.720 --> 26:30.720
Suspense. Presented by Auto Light. Tonight's star, Miss Agnes Moorhead.

26:30.720 --> 26:33.720
This is Harlow Wilcox speaking for Auto Light,

26:33.720 --> 26:37.720
world's largest independent manufacturer of automotive electrical equipment.

26:37.720 --> 26:41.720
Auto Light is proud to serve the greatest names in the industry.

26:41.720 --> 26:44.720
They are members of the Auto Light family,

26:44.720 --> 26:48.720
as well as are the 98,000 Auto Light distributors and dealers in the United States

26:48.720 --> 26:52.720
and thousands more in Canada and throughout the world.

26:52.720 --> 26:58.720
Our family also includes the nearly 30,000 men and women in 28 great Auto Light plants from coast to coast

26:58.720 --> 27:01.720
and Auto Light plants in many foreign countries,

27:01.720 --> 27:06.720
as well as the 18,000 people who have invested a portion of their savings in Auto Light.

27:06.720 --> 27:10.720
Every Auto Light product is backed by constant research

27:10.720 --> 27:15.720
and precision built to the highest standards of quality and performance.

27:15.720 --> 27:20.720
So remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light.

27:20.720 --> 27:26.720
Music

27:26.720 --> 27:31.720
Next week, a story based on fact and taken from your morning newspaper.

27:31.720 --> 27:35.720
The exciting report of one man's efforts to prevent a national tragedy.

27:35.720 --> 27:41.720
The story is called, Man Alive. Our star will be Mr. Paul Douglas.

27:41.720 --> 27:50.720
That's next week on Suspense.

27:50.720 --> 27:53.720
Suspense is transcribed and directed by Elliot Lewis

27:53.720 --> 27:57.720
with music composed by Lucian Morawick and conducted by Ludd Luskin.

27:57.720 --> 28:01.720
Death and Miss Turner was written for Suspense by William Spear.

28:01.720 --> 28:04.720
In tonight's story, Jeanette Nolan was heard as Miss Briggs,

28:04.720 --> 28:08.720
Joseph Kearns as Dr. Grice, Paul Fries as the man on the train,

28:08.720 --> 28:11.720
and Charles Davis as the shopkeeper.

28:11.720 --> 28:20.720
Magnus Moorhead may currently be seen touring in Don Juan in Hell by George Bernard Shaw.

28:20.720 --> 28:27.720
You can buy Auto Light electrical parts, Auto Light staple batteries,

28:27.720 --> 28:31.720
and Auto Light resistor, all standard type spark plugs, at your neighborhood Auto Light dealers.

28:31.720 --> 28:34.720
Switch to Auto Light. Good night.

28:34.720 --> 28:48.720
Music

28:48.720 --> 28:51.720
This is the CBS Radio Network.

