Auto Light and its 98,000 dealers bring you Mr. Herbert Marshall in tonight's presentation
of Suspense.
Tonight, Auto Light presents part two of one of the most famous of all literary puzzles,
Charles Dickens' unfinished novel, The Mystery of Edwin Groove, our star, Mr. Herbert Marshall.
Hello, Senator.
How's our legislative leader?
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The battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use.
And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light.
And now, Auto Light presents Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Groove, starring Mr. Herbert
Marshall, hoping once again to keep you in suspense.
When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness, he shall save his soul alive.
So it has been said, so it has been written.
What of him who strives to turn away in torment and desperation and finds that he cannot?
What is it that will happen to him?
What is it that will happen to me?
It was on a gray Christmas morn that I, John Gaspar, instructor in music at Cloister and
College, sought the answers to those questions.
I sought them within myself, within my music, within the paling stars seen dimly through
the organ locked windows.
But no answers came, only a memory or a dream.
I seem to see a man walking alone through the deserted night-blackened streets of Cloisterum,
the deserted streets which were suddenly no longer deserted.
When the memory was gone, the dream was over, and I was at my gatehouse lodgings looking
for him who should have been there, looking for the man I suddenly knew would never be
there again.
Edwin!
Chris Parkle!
Dean Chris Parkle, open up!
It's John Gaspar.
Open up, I say!
Gaspar?
What is it, man?
My nephew, Edwin Rue, where is he?
Edwin?
Yes, he went to the river last night to look at the storm with Neville Landless.
With Neville?
Yes, and he never came back.
Where is he?
Ask Landless where he is.
Neville's not home either.
Not home?
I'll be down directly.
As he joined me, the great realization of what might have transpired was clearly writ
upon Dean Chris Parkle's face.
Hardly he roused a number of cottage servants from their holiday beds, and a search was
begun.
A search for my missing nephew, Edwin Rue, and for the Dean's missing protégé, Neville
Landless.
There it is.
The river.
The river they went to see at the height of the storm last night.
You never saw them again, Gaspar?
No, neither one returned.
Was there any quarrel between them?
Any hint of the disagreements they'd had upon other occasions?
None.
But Christmas Eve dinner had gone exactly as I'd planned.
They'd shaken hands.
Apparently it resolved their differences, and when they left, they went arm in arm.
Tell me, Gaspar, whose idea was it to visit the river?
Was it Neville's?
I have not cast doubt, but it may be undeserved.
It could have been anyone's suggestion, mine, Edwin's.
I don't like this, Gaspar.
There's a feeling about it all that strikes still to my bones.
Park, one of the searching parties.
They've found someone, Gaspar.
They've found...
Edwin Rue is still among them, I think.
Easy does it now, sir.
Take them off!
Easy, if you please, Mr. Landless.
Take your hands off me.
What right have you to seize my person like this?
Will you take them off me?
In a moment, sir, in a moment.
There you be, Dean Chris Barker.
We've found your man, as you can see.
Yes, Joe, I see you may release him.
Aye, sir, but it's belligerent he is.
I'd beware of him if I was you.
Didn't want to return without a toll, he didn't.
What is all this, sir?
What is the meaning?
I was out for an early morning walk when these laggards seized me bodily.
They forced me to return here and said it was by your orders.
As it was, Neville.
But why, sir?
Surely there's some explanation.
Why?
Where is my nephew, Landless?
Your nephew?
Yes, Edwin Drude, where is he?
Why ask me why should I know of Drude's whereabouts?
Because he was the last person in his company and he's not to be found.
Speak, sir, where is he?
Stay, stay, Jasper.
Permit me to question him.
Neville, you left Mr. Jasper's residence last night with Edwin Drude?
Aye, aye, yes, sir.
You went down to the river together?
Yes, to see the reaction of the storm upon it.
How long did you stay there?
Well, it was ten minutes, more or less.
And then?
What Drude took leave of me.
Did he say where he was going then?
Why, yes, to return to Mr. Jasper's.
That was the last you saw of him?
The very last.
If something's happened to Drude, I most certainly had nothing to do with it.
What are those stains upon your jacket, Mr. Landless?
Ha!
The stains?
And that walking stick you're carrying, Joe.
The same stains are upon it.
Aye, so they are.
Blood stains they be, Mr. Jasper.
And the stick, to whom does that belong?
Why, to Mr. Landless, sir.
He took it off him.
Had to, the fuss and all he was putting up.
Well, of course they're blood stains.
I fought with these men thinking they were footpads.
If their blood has been spilled, it must be theirs or mine.
Neville, I think you'd best accompany us to the authorities.
At my suggestion, we repair to the residence of Cloystrum's Lord High Mayor, Mr. Thomas
Sapsey, and as we stood there in his parlour, the rendering of authority was as I knew it
would be.
Not unlike the person, the Mr. Sapsey himself.
Unimaginative, dull, stupid.
Well, gentlemen, this all seems quite clear to me.
Quite clear.
And I am one who has spared little pain, little pain, gentlemen, in training myself to see
things clearly.
They may be clear to you, sir, but they are far from being so to me.
Patience, young man, patience.
Justice will be done here, of that you may rest well assured.
Yes, well assured.
And now, allow me to enumerate the situation.
Point number one, there have been several witnessed quarrels between the two young men
in question.
The missing Edwin Drew to the here present Neville Landless.
The quarrels have been repaired, sir.
Mr. Jasper himself bears witness to that.
I have stated there was no quarrel or apparent difference at your last meeting, Mr. Landless.
Quite so, quite so.
One meeting without quarrel, several with.
The scales are unbalanced, I quote.
Particularly one might say as the subject or object of those quarrels was the fiance
of Mr. Drew.
Surely, Mr. Sapsey, it is not necessary to bring a young lady's name into this.
I apologize for the necessity, Mr. Jasper, but it would seem to me that the charming
and delightful Miss Rosa is truly at the heart of the matter confronting us.
At his heart, yes.
In one respect, I am forced to agree with you.
There is no doubt that Landless was extremely envious of Edwin's good fortune in being
betrothed of Rosa.
Yes, as I say, the heart.
Now point number two.
The two gentlemen disappeared together into the night.
Point number three.
Mr. Drew never appears again.
Point four.
Mr. Landless is apprehended upon the heath, obviously fleeing cloisterum, and is returned
only by force.
Point five.
Unexplained blood stains are found upon his person and upon the stick he was carrying.
I was not fleeing cloisterum and the blood stains are not unexplained.
Circumstances indicate otherwise, Mr. Landless.
Yes, otherwise.
And the taking of a fellow creature's life is to take something that don't belong to
you, you know.
Taking of a fellow creature?
What madness is this?
Oh, Mr. Jasper, surely you don't believe that-
My interest lies only in the return of my nephew.
And if he is never to return in seeing that justice is rightly done.
Yes, precisely what I had in mind, Mr. Jasper.
Precisely.
My further suggestions to Mr. Sapsee were immediately carried out.
Black cards were posted, the river dragged, a feverish search began, days went by, then
weeks.
And the end result was nothing.
No trace of Edwin Drew was ever found.
Only when all hope was abandoned, Mr. Sapsee delivered his final resolution.
It would appear, gentlemen, that the mystery of Edwin Drew has not as yet been solved.
No, not solved.
However, certain horrible suspicions as yet remain.
In the interests of all concerned, therefore, I make the following suggestion.
It is that Mr. Neville Landless remove his presence from the city of cloisterum, and
unless there comes a time when certain horrible suspicions no longer exist, that he remain
away from here forever.
Late afternoon of that same day I went to see Rosa.
We met in the garden of the seminary house.
You wish to see me, Mr. Jasper?
That is a desire which has lived with me for a long while, Rosa.
However, the unhappy circumstances of the past few weeks have prevented its fulfillment.
And you feel that Mayor Sapsee's announcement has now cleared the way for you?
Not for me.
For us.
Grief does not come to an end with an official pronouncement, Mr. Jasper.
Surely even the natural sadness you feel must be tinged with relief.
Relief?
You no longer are faced with the prospect of a forced, distasteful marriage to Edwin.
You're free of your promise to your parents.
Now that Edwin's gone, there's nothing to prevent our getting married at once.
Our getting married?
I'm sorry I put it so bluntly, my dear, but we waited so long, kept our love for each
other buried so deeply.
Sure you can't blame me for speaking so frankly now.
No, and with Edwin gone, there's no need for me to be silent.
You have my solemn word for it, Mr. Jasper, that there is not one drop of love in my heart
for you, rather only loathing and hatred.
Rosa!
I have always despised you, though I tried to hide it for Edwin's sake.
Despised you because you pursued me with your eyes, with your thoughts, whispering to me
in your mind of your obscene love, even though I was engaged to Edwin.
Edwin, the nephew you so falsely pretended was the dearest thing on earth to you.
Rosa, you're overwrought.
The strain of these past weeks.
You refuse to believe.
I can't believe it, my dear.
I love you, Lone-old-man.
The man I love, the man I still love, is Neville Landless.
Landless?
Yes, Neville, the man I was going to marry.
What do you mean, Rosa?
You were going to marry Edwin?
No, Mr. Jasper.
You told me you were.
That was before Edwin and I released each other from our vows, Mr. Jasper.
Released?
Then Edwin didn't have to die.
No, Mr. Jasper.
Whether Edwin was alive or dead, I was free to marry the man of my choice.
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Herbert Marshall in The Mystery of Edwin Drood.
Tonight's presentation in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Hello, our committee is investigating.
And what have you found, Senator?
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Why those fiberglass retaining mats that surround every positive plate to reduce shedding and
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And we've found the Auto Light staple battery is a favorite of millions of car owners from
coast to coast.
Thank you, Senator.
Friends, see your Auto Light battery dealer.
He services all makes of batteries, and he has an Auto Light staple for your car if a
replacement is needed.
To quickly locate him, phone Western Union by number and ask for operator 25.
I'll tell you the name of your nearest Auto Light battery dealer, where you can get an
Auto Light staple, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car
use.
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 the mystery of Edwin Drood, a tale well calculated to keep you
in suspense.
How does one relate the ending of a world, the stunning collapse of all that has meaning,
of all that is life?
I will not attempt to do so.
Everything that can be said was said on that fateful afternoon.
And so the story of Edwin Drood was over.
Or so I thought.
Good day to you, Mr. Jasper.
Huh?
Oh, it's you, Donald.
Eh, him what he's known as old Donald should be.
Come to pay another visit to the western place of the Orleans, Mr. Jasper.
Why, no, no, no, Donald.
As a matter of fact, I hadn't even noticed that I was walking past the crypt.
My mind was elsewhere, I imagine.
I thought perhaps you might be coming round for another lesson in burying dead bodies,
Mr. Jasper.
What's meant by that about, Donald?
Well, now I recall one night old Donald gave you a lesson about finding bodies of the Orleans,
up here and there with his hammer, he did, pointing out the hollow walls.
You remember, don't you?
Oh, yes, yes, I believe I recall something like that.
An evening without anything to do, I don't curiosity.
It could have been, Mr. Jasper.
Though it didn't seem as such on last Christmas Eve, it didn't.
What about last Christmas Eve?
Why, you was down here again, Mr. Jasper.
Topping the walls with a total hammer yourself, you were.
You're mistaken.
I was nowhere near the crypt on Christmas Eve.
Perhaps.
I would have wagered you had a bottle or two of holiday cheer beneath your belt at the
time.
Perhaps.
Though I would have swore it were you.
Hello.
Come in, Mr. Jasper.
Come in.
And who may you be, sir?
Thatcher is the name, Dick Thatchery.
Came calling, found you out, made himself at home.
So I note.
This?
Favorite of mine, mulled wine.
Thought I'd prepare, honor the occasion of all.
The occasion of an absolute stranger making himself at home in my lodgings.
Not ordinary circumstances, hmm?
Quite agree.
Nevertheless, honorable occasion.
Perhaps you care to explain, Mr. Thatchery.
Gladly.
Perfect, sir.
Won't you join me?
I'm awaiting that explanation, sir.
I bring your greetings, sir.
Greetings from whom?
Your dear boy, Mr. Jasper.
Greetings from Edwin Root.
Greetings from Edwin?
Aye.
Send you the best.
Apologize for not writing.
Trust you're not worried.
Told you didn't die.
Honorable occasion.
Indeed, this is an occasion, Mr. Thatchery.
I've been worried sick about the dear boy.
You found him well?
Blooming, best of health.
Where is he?
Where did you meet with him?
London, some lodging house.
Kept meeting on stairs, natural thing.
Of course, quite natural.
Business took me to Cloisterham.
Told Edwin.
Made me promise a greeting.
Here I am.
Care to try the wine?
Quite good.
My apologies, Mr. Thatchery.
Certainly I would.
Toast to Edwin?
To Edwin.
Ah.
Perfect.
Well, you're on your way now.
You're over.
One moment, Mr. Thatchery.
I must write Edwin and tell him how happy you've made me.
What's the dear boy's address?
He hasn't got it.
He moved.
Didn't say where.
Then there's no more you can tell me about him, where he can be reached.
Nothing.
I see.
Wondering if it's a tall tale, Mr. Jasper?
No real greetings.
No real Edwin.
Surely that's a possibility, Mr. Thatchery.
Ordinarily, not now.
Mementos.
Wanted you to have them.
Remember him.
Oh, duty fully discharged.
I'll be leaving.
Good day, Mr. Jasper.
Excellent, boy.
I scarcely have the time to say goodbye.
I'm going to go.
We really heard him leave, this Mr. Thatchery.
I was staring at the object he placed upon the table.
A watch and chain.
Edwin's watch and chain.
He'd been wearing them the night of the big storm.
The last night he'd been seen alive.
Mr. Thatchery.
Mr. Jasper, one moment, please.
Good afternoon, Rosa.
Have you heard the news, Mr. Jasper?
What news, Rosa?
It concerns Edwin Brood.
Edwin?
Yes, he's alive Mr. Jasper.
Edwin's alive.
Did you hear me Mr. Jasper?
Did you hear what I said about Edwin?
He's alive.
That's a rather astounding statement for us to...
I know, I could scarcely believe it myself, but here.
This came to me in the post today from London.
It's a letter from Edwin.
Oh isn't it wonderful Mr. Jasper.
We were all so certain that he was dead that someone had killed him on the night of the storm.
And there, there in your very hand is the proof that he's alive.
No greater horror can visit the mind of man than a certain knowledge he has suddenly become mad.
And such was the horror which dwelt within me that fateful day.
For it was the only explanation that was left.
Edwin was dead, he had to be.
The memory or dream that had lived with me since Christmas morn was too clear, too sharply etched for there to be any doubt.
Edwin was dead.
And yet within a single afternoon two people had brought me proof that Edwin was alive.
Proof as clear, as sharply etched as that memory.
A sane mind does not exist in a world of such paradox.
I've gone mad.
Time finds no haven within the dread confines of madness.
Nor was that day an exception.
Somehow without my knowing of it the day was gone.
In what had been a sunlit sky a night-darkened storm lay muttering ominously.
My mud-spattered gaiters, bone-weary legs, spoke mutely of hours of aimless wandering,
hours of doing fruitless battle with that thing of horrible wonder apart, which was now my mind.
And then I was where I'd been destined to be all along.
The one place where the truth could be found.
Incontestable truth.
I entered the venerable crypt of Troystrath.
The flashes of lightning etched in weird relief the low inhabitants of the dead.
Half-standing pillars of stone assumed the attitude of watchful guardians,
grinning evilly from their sentry boxes of the night.
And the broken wall for which I made my way was an ancient catapult,
concealing within it the secret that only I knew was there.
I climbed to its top and looked down upon the rubbish that almost filled the hollow space between its sides.
A rusty spade lay nearby.
I seized it and began to dig.
Again time became meaningless.
There was nothing but the feverish labor of uncovering the truth,
of finding a rusted watch and chain that would not possibly lie bright and untarnished on my table,
of uncovering a skeletonized human hand that was incapable of writing the letter I'd seen.
And then the labor too became meaningless.
There was no watch, no chain, no hand.
There was nothing in there but rubble.
Looking for something, Mr. Jasper?
Landish!
I asked you if you were looking for something, Mr. Jasper.
What are you doing here? You were ordered to stay away from Christendom.
I came back, Mr. Jasper.
Why? What are you doing here?
Same thing that you are, seeking the truth.
The truth about what?
The mystery of Edwin Drew.
There is no mystery. Edwin Drew is alive.
Is he?
Ask Rosa, ask Mr. Datcher, and they'll tell you. They know he's alive.
No, Mr. Jasper. You killed him last Christmas Eve. Edwin Drew is dead.
He's not, I tell you. How could he be?
If he were dead, why isn't he lying in this grave? The grave in which I...
The grave in which you buried him?
No. There was no grave. Only a dream. It was all a dream.
What was a dream, Mr. Jasper?
Everything. Following him back to the river, my hands around his throat,
hiding his body here in this wall. It was all a dream. Can't you understand?
I've been driven out of my mind by a dream. I didn't do it.
But you did, Mr. Jasper.
You are a fool, analyst. Look for yourself.
This grave I prepared for him is empty. He isn't there.
No, but he was here until two weeks ago.
Two weeks ago?
That was when a London detective and I found what was left of him.
That jury?
Yes. With the help of doodles and his invaluable hammer, we found Edwin Drew.
We found the food, found the watch which identified him.
You told me just now how you killed him.
The watch? And Rose's letter?
Written several years ago, reposted from London.
Shall we go now, Mr. Jasper?
Go?
You took me before the authorities once. Now it's my time to take you.
Prospect of the gallows make you happy, Jasper?
In the way, Lenz. At least I'll go to it, knowing that I wasn't mad.
Suspense. Presented by Auto Light. Tonight's star, Mr. Herbert Marshall.
This is Harlow Wilcox speaking for Auto Light, world's largest independent manufacturer of automotive electrical equipment.
Auto Light is proud to serve the greatest names in the industry.
That's why during the early morning hours of the morning, the
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If you live in a television area, check the day and time of suspense so that you will be sure to see this program.
Next week, we recreate an historical puzzle as we attempt to locate a sunken treasure.
The story based on fact is called Gold of the Atomar.
Our star Mr. John Hodiac.
That's next week on Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with music composed by Lucian Morawick and conducted by Lud Bluskin.
The mystery of Edwin Drood was adapted from Charles Dickens' unfinished novel by Sidney Marshall.
In tonight's story, Ben Wright was heard as Landless.
Featured in the cast were Betty Harford, Joseph Kearns, Ramsey Hill, Charles Davis, and William Johnstone.
And remember, next week, Mr. John Hodiac in Gold of the Atomar.
This is the CBS Radio Network.