Tired of the everyday grind? Ever dream of a life of romantic adventure? Want to get away from it all? We offer you... Escape! Escape! Designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure! You are running over the fog-locked cliffs of Dover by your side a girl who believes you're a madman and pursuing you, bent on destroying you a man whose terrible secrets you've stumbled upon and from whom there is no escape. Listen now as Escape brings you Walter Brown Newman's story Two and Two, Make Four. My head hurt. I sat up and opened my eyes. Fog all around, thick and close and still. I could see trees and a few yards of dirt rolled. My watch was gone and my wallet... rolled, slugged and rolled and dumped. But where? I scrambled to my feet and I stood there in the ditch suddenly worried about the time. It would be bad to be late going aboard. As for the ship sailing without me, I stepped onto the road. Which way led back to Calais? Someone was coming. Hello? Qui est là? Why don't you answer? I can't see. Oh! Down the road then across the field alongside a brook. I ran till I thought my lungs would burst. I stopped to listen but the blood was pounding so I couldn't be sure I wasn't followed. I ran some more. The brook went under a small bridge. On it leaning against the stone wall looking down at me was a girl with a knapsack on her back. I climbed up the bank. Mademoiselle, c'est vous plaît, mademoiselle. I'm sorry, I don't speak French. Did you hear those shots? A few minutes ago right past my ear almost blew my head off. Well, you should tell the police or something. I have to be going. I have a long way to go. Wait a minute. Sorry, I really must go. No, no, no, wait, wait. What time is it, please? Well, not quite quarter to seven. The way it looks now will have fog at least until noon. Noon? You mean it's a quarter of seven in the morning? Yes, of course in the morning. Well, I've got to... Hold on, hold on. Which way is Calais? Calais? Well, that way, about 20 miles. Twenty? I've got to make my ship. You mind if I walk along with you? Well... My name's David Parker. Mine's Haydock, Emily Haydock. I'm in the Merchant Marine, second mate on a freighter. You want a walking trip or something? That's right. I figured. The knapsack. American? Yes? Me too. I thought you were French at first. Why was that? Took it for granted. Most people in France are. Well, I don't understand. We're in England, not France. Why should you think that you... What do you mean, England? Didn't you just tell me we were 20 miles from Calais? Yes, but Calais is somewhere out there across the English Channel in France. And where do you say we are, you and me now? And of course, about two miles from Dover. Now look, look, look, look, look. I've been robbed and dumped out here in the countryside and shot at, so please don't make jokes. I'm not. What's today, quick? Thursday, 10th of July. Why? Then we're in France. Look, I tell you we're not... When I registered at the hotel in Calais last night, I noticed the date. It was the 9th of July. Now look, you asked me where we are and I told you. England, near Dover. Now suppose I didn't see the sunrise in Calais just an hour ago. Sunrise? Sunrise, sunrise. What sunrise? I've been up since five. There's been no sun for a week. It's one of the worst fogs they've ever had. Oh, drop it, drop it. I tell you, I saw it. You're either joking, a lying or crazy. No, no, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. No more of that lying, that crazy, do you hear? No more of that crazy. What else am I to think when you say you were shot at and you saw the sun? Sun today. And you insist you're in France when you're in England. All right, Miss Hadock, turn around. Now what do you see alongside the road? Gate? Stonewall? Yeah, yeah, and in front of the gate. A mailbox, why? And what does it say on the mailbox? Villa Montbeju. I don't know what beju means, but it's French, French. What do you say now? We're in England. You don't know where to stop, do you? All right, all right. I'm going into this villa, whatever it is, and phone for a taxi to take me to my ship. I was going to offer you a lift, but now I'd sooner cut my tongue out. How do you like that? Oh, go to the devil. You're in England. Hello. Hello. Speak English? Do you understand English? Say, is there anyone here who speaks English? I speak English. Oh, good, good. May I use your phone to call a taxi? Of course. Won't you come in? Thanks. I have no money on me, Mr. Putney, Dr. Putney. I haven't a penny with me, doctor, but I'll be able to get some from the clerk at the hotel, and I'll send you whatever the call costs with the taxi driver. Oh, not at all, not at all. There's the phone. Thanks. Hello. Hello. Oh, come on. Service is always a bit slow at this hour. I'm sorry. The fact is, I got angry with a silly girl out on the road. Did you? Yeah, she tried to kid me. Well, the joke will be on her when she's trudging along the road and sees me riding in my ease to Calais. I'll... Oh, come on. Riding to Calais? In a taxi. I wouldn't have minded if she'd let the joke drop. But no, she went on and on about this being England and that I was crazy to think otherwise. I'm afraid I don't understand the joke. I mean, this is England. Look, I don't find it funny, doctor. I thought I made that clear. The next one who tells me I'm in England when I know I'm in France, I swear I'll take... You know you're in France? Yes. Yes. Sit down, young man. Isn't this France? England. Near Dover. How can I show you? Here, here's a copy of the London Times, yesterday. Wednesday, July 9. But the name on the mailbox, Villa Watts, is that French? Most of the villas have names like that. Mont-Bijou, Saint-Souci. Still, it's England. Sit down. I'm a physician and I'd like to ask you... Oh, no, no. Young man! Young man! Two and two make four. I repeated it like a charm, like they told me in the hospital. When you feel unsure of yourself, remember, two and two make four. There's an explanation for everything. Don't doubt yourself. After a while, I stopped trembling. I opened the gate and went out onto the road. I saw a man with a gun in his hand. He was a young man. I was trembling. I opened the gate and went out onto the road. And there was the girl. Oh, everything all right? Did you come back to say I told you so? No, I... Well, I thought you might need help. I thought that... Watch out. There's a truck coming. There's an inn just around the curve. Get down! Get down! He might shoot you again. Get down! Mr. Parker, please, that was a backfire. That's all it was. A... backfire? Of course. What else could it be? There's an inn just around the curve and I have money. Wouldn't you like to have breakfast there and talk? Oh, I... I'm all confused. Anyone would be after a blow on the head. No, no, it's not just being slugged. I wish it were only that, but with a case like me, the... You're not a case. Oh, that's just it. I am. About six weeks ago, unloading cargo, a crate hit me on the head, scrambled my memory. They sent me to the hospital and the ship sailed without me. She's due back in Calais this afternoon. I was to report aboard if the treatment proved successful. They told me it was successful and discharged me yesterday or... Maybe it wasn't yesterday and none of it happened and I'm imagining it all. Try not to worry. It'll all come back to you. But suppose what comes back never really happened. That's the point, you see. That's the point. I remember a lot about yesterday, but what if I only think I remember and it's all in my... Shh, shh, shh. Now relax. We'll have breakfast in here. If you remember, you remember. Yeah, yeah, but do I? I recall leaving the hospital and going to a hotel. Then I went to an all-night restaurant and I remember leaving a bar at daybreak. Oh, sit down, Miss Hadark, please. Thank you. I remember all that clearly. But an hour later I'm in England and that's impossible. Well, you might have wandered aboard a channel steamer. Use your head. It's a two or three hour trip by boat. Well, an airplane then. Excuse me, I thought perhaps you'd like your coffee now while waiting for breakfast. Uh, Miss, is there an airfield nearby? Oh, yes, sir, but it's not an object of interest for tourists today. Our church is very nice, though. How far away is it, the airfield? Oh, you won't see no planes coming or going, sir. The BBC broadcast said no air traffic in or out of Dover for the sixth straight day. Good morning, Mr Smith-Travers. Breakfast, Rosie. Yes, sir. Anything else for the present, sir? No, no, no. No air traffic six days in a row. You'd think that would teach them, but will it? I beg your pardon. I leave it to you. Is there any reason for maintaining this undependable method of transportation, a method absolutely at the mercy of the elements, when there's a cheaper, better, less bothersome, simpler and always certain way of crossing the Channel? You mean the boats? No, no, of course not. The tunnel, the Channel. Tunnel. Tunnel? Yes, of course. Rosie, I want coffee now. Right, Mr Smith-Travers. The Channel Tunnel. 20 miles through solid impermeable chalk in Dover, out at Calais. Less than an hour's drive. No fuss. I never heard of it. Is it something recent? Recent? Oh, you're strangers here. Tourists, eh? Yeah. Well, you heard of Napoleon Bonaparte. Oh, yeah. He had it dug by the Sixth Corps of the Engineers of the Imperial Army. Took them three years. All done in secret, of course, for a surprise attack on England. You mean to say there's actually a tunnel beneath the English Channel in use? Certainly it's in use. I've been through it scores of times. Business, you know. Import, export. Just drove back from Calais a few hours ago. Ah, morning, Doctor. Good morning, Smith-Travers. Just advising them to go by way of the tunnel if they want to get to Calais. Ah, yes, of course. Much the best way. Eh, did it in 23 minutes this morning. A new carburetor, you know. Well, good morning to you, sir. Liss. I, uh, must have seen like a lunatic, Doctor, not knowing I was in England. You see, I was in Calais, and an hour later I was in England, and I didn't understand how that was possible. I didn't know about the tunnel beneath the channel. Try not to excite yourself, my boy. Everything will soon be all right. What? I've brought someone with me. Constable. Eh, Miss Poorfellow. Poorfellow, you mean... Oh, you do think... But I told you... I didn't know about the tunnel. I must have gone through the tunnel. He didn't know until Mr. Smith-Travers told him. Yes, I heard. But Mr. Smith-Travers is also of the firm conviction that we British are descended from the ten lost tribes of Israel, that Shakespeare never existed, and that after a bit more research we'll be able to transmute base metals into gold. We know him and like him, and, eh, humor his eccentricities. Come along, Mr. Parker. I think it in the public interest that you not be on the public streets. Yeah, come along, I got an idea. Listen, listen. I was in Calais at sunrise. I can prove it. I just remembered the name of the hotel. The Hotel de l'Amard. Phone them and they'll tell you that there's a David Parker registered there. They have my passport at the desk. Give me a good one. You're hurting him, you big bully. I was in Calais. I was. Two and two make four. Two and two make four. Two and two make four. You are listening to Two and Two Make Four, tonight's presentation of Escape. Keep listening for the climax in tonight's exciting story on Escape. And listen tomorrow for CBS Radio's exciting World Music Festivals concert. Three excerpts from Albin Berg's tragic opera, Warchek, will highlight the program. That's tomorrow daytime on most of these stations. And now back to Escape and the second act of Two and Two Make Four. They took us to a room in the town hall. Dr. Putney, it turned out, was not only a physician, he was the local magistrate as well. For more than three hours he questioned Miss Haddock and me in turn. He made us repeat our stories endlessly. Where she met me, how I behaved, what I said, what she said and all the rest of it. It was almost noon before he was finished. And watching the clock on the wall, my ship coming nearer to Calais with every tick, I was almost beside myself with anxiety. You need care, my boy, rest and help. Now we have a fine institution in Folkestone near here which can give you that care. A few weeks, possibly days. Institution? Look, I've got to get to Calais. Miss Haddock, will you try to convince him it's for the best? There's nothing wrong with me. I'll try once more to show you reality, Mr. Parker. You say you were in France at sunrise. I do, I was. I was. And you insist you were in England an hour later. Look, please, please, call the Hotel de la Mer in Calais. I checked in there. There's bound to be a record of it. That will prove I'm telling the truth. And if the call is made and it doesn't prove you're telling the truth, will you take my advice about the institution? Yes. Constable, put through a call to the Hotel de la Mer in Calais. If the hotel bears out Mr. Parker's story, you'll let him go? Miss Haddock, if it turns out that Mr. Parker is right, but how could he be? Two and two make four. Two and two make four. What's that? I have the hotel, sir. Use the constable's phone, Mr. Parker. I'll listen in on my extension. Hello, desk clerk. Hello, hello. Hello. Is there a Mr. Parker registered there? David Parker? Parker? David Parker. Parker? David Parker? Oh, yes, there was, but he has checked out since two hours ago. But he... I mean, he couldn't have... You're mistaken. No, sir, I am not. Not if you mean that Mr. Parker is an American seaman. I returned his passport personally when he paid his bill. I have the... I'm not even who I thought I was. All right, Dr. Putney, I'll go with you. Before you do, let me speak to you in private, please. May we, doctor, would it be all right? I'll give you two minutes. Constable, we can arrange for an ambulance to Folkestone. Yes, sir. Mr. Parker. No, no. That's not my name. Two and two make four. Yeah. Two and two make four. You must have faith in yourself. If you're convinced you were in France one moment in an England an hour later, then that's the way it was. It's a physical impossibility. No, it's not. You could have come through the tunnel. There is no tunnel. If a tunnel is the only explanation for what happened to you, then there is a tunnel. Two and two make four. Yeah. You really believe my story? I believe you. All right, then. All right. What do I do now? You tell me. Come on. You know the answer. I... I find the man in the restaurant, the man who said there was a tunnel, Smith Travis. Right. Open the window. All right. I'll go first and I'll help you down. Come on. Here's my nap set. Got it. Got it. Got it. Got it. Now you. Time's up, I'm afraid. Miss Haydock. Come back here. Miss Haydock. Mr... Mr X, whatever your name is. Constable, stop them. I'll do my best, sir. The fog hit us before we'd run 20 feet. We dodged around corners, then stopped at a garage and looked up Mr. Smith Travers address in a directory. It proved to be a little villa like a dozen others I'd seen that day. There was no answer when we knocked at the door, so we waited. And before very long, Mr. Smith Travers drove up in a light truck. Look. Look, look, look. The police I left at the hotel in Calais. He's got it. Good afternoon. I'll take that. Oh. Oh, uh, yes, yes, yes, of course. Yeah, my passport, too, please. Yes. Uh, I see you've concluded the tunnel does exist. That's right. Blast, you're the first to ever have. It's a bit of bad luck for me, that is. If I hadn't had a flat tire halfway through, the passport and police would be in ashes by now. You, uh, phoned the hotel in Calais. Yes. Yes, yes, I thought you might. I heard you shouting at the end about the hotel, so I drove over and... Didn't it make you doubt your senses when they told you you checked out? Oh, you have no idea. Yes, I was counting on that. Yeah, it rocked me, but only for a minute. How the devil did you get in my machine in the first place? Well, the way I figure, I was knocked on the head by some thug and robbed this morning in Calais. Whoever did it may have thrown me in your truck to get me out of sight. I was never so surprised in my life. I mean to say, I skidded near Dover, side-swiped a tree and heard the back door bang open. When I stopped and went back there, you were lying with a bolt of my silk in your arms. Took my breath away. When you started to groan and sit up, I was beside myself. I... What's the matter? It just occurred to me. You're not English. Bad thing to have someone not in the government and a foreigner to boot to know about the tunnel. Security, you know. Do you mean the British government knows of the tunnel? No, it doesn't. I've sent letters to every Prime Minister since MacDonald telling them about it. Charts, diagrams, descriptions. Useless. They think I'm a crank? I can't blame them. What would Mr. Eisenhower say if you told him there's a tunnel between London and New York? You see what I mean? Got acknowledgement just once. CID man came around and blabbed the whole story to everyone. Told them to keep an eye on me as a dangerous lunatic. The only way to protect the secret after that was to ride it like a mania. So I told everyone too. Best security measure ever devised. Now, however, there are three of us who really know about the tunnel. It's awkward. I don't know what to do. Oh, I can tell you exactly. You're going to take me back to Calais now, otherwise I'll beat you to a pulp. I ought to anyway, making me doubt myself as you did. Taking you into the tunnel, that might be the best way. We'd never tell anyone, I swear it. Yes. I don't want you to see the entrance and exit, though. You will have to wear blindfolds. Agreed. Now, let's get going, then. Here's taking you into the tunnel is the best way. Music Music Music Music Music Music Say, how much longer before we're in the tunnel? You can take off the blindfolds now we're in it. Oh, wonderful. The tunnel? Yes, they did a fine job, the Six Corps. They had what they got for it. Boney flung them in the Russian campaign when they'd finished and saw to it they all died. Best way of keeping a secret, eh? How did you learn of it? Reading in the British Museum. I was broke and unemployed. I found an old diary by one of the engineers, investigated and found it was true. I wrote to the government, told them about that. Well, it was too good to let it waste so I set up a small import-export business. Cheaper transportation gives me an edge on my competitors. Are we in Calais? Well, no, but it's as far as you go. I've got to kill you. I can't let you live. It's too dangerous now that you know. The shotgun failed me twice today. Perhaps a little over... Get out of the truck, please. Get out of the truck, please. Unless you want your blood all over the young lady, please get... out of the truck, please. Now, perhaps... Well, I won't think you cowardly if you turn your back. Listen... Oh, come now, no temporizing, just take it. Oh, dash it all. Emily? I almost... I think I'm going to faint. Help me get him back into the truck, huh? Just let me sit here for a moment. Yeah. David? Huh? We'll tell the authorities the truth about the tunnel and all. Everyone ought to know. It's too good a thing and makes travel and trade and communication so simple. We've no right to keep it a secret. Check. I'll tell the authorities. We came to the end of the tunnel at exactly 2 o'clock by Miss Haydick's watch. Time and to spare in order to board my ship. We left Mr. Smith Travers in the truck and made our way into what was apparently a small warehouse. And from there through a door. We found ourselves on the corner of a street much like any other street in Calais. A fog had rolled in since sunrise as thick as the one we'd left in England. One moment. I want to make a note of this street or we'll never find the tunnel again. You got a pencil? Never mind, I have one. There's no street sign. No, up there on the side of the building. They don't put them on lamp posts like we do on the States. All right, I've got it. Say, uh, when do you get back to the States? September 1st. School term starts on the 10th. I teach kindergarten in Baltimore. We're supposed to put in at Baltimore Christmas week. Well, that's marvelous. We could have Christmas Eve together. Yeah, New Year's too maybe. I'll look forward to that. You'll write meanwhile, won't you? I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you did. What made you believe in me so strongly? Oh, I don't know. You see, I... What's the matter? I'm not sure we're walking toward the harbor. That's the trouble with a foreign city. You turn a corner and you're lost. And this dirty fog is so... Well, let's try this way. Would that be a policeman in the doorway? Where? Oh, yes, yes, it is. Parlez Anglais. A little. Which way is the harbor? Turn at the next corner to the left and walk four streets. Well, thank you, thank you. Oh, how do you pronounce the name of the street I've written here? Street? There's no street. A street? What does it say? In English. This way to the air raid shelter. We have put them on almost every building in Calais. Air raid shelter? Then we'll never be able to find our way back to the tunnel. Eh? Jean D'Armes, are you sure? But of course. As sure as I am, that two and two make four. Two and two make four. This is Barrett, your announcer, Bill Anders. The special music for Escape is composed and conducted by Leith Stevens. Next week. You're on a catch sailing the coral seas, snaking your way through the tricky channel toward an island of black pearls, while on the shore, waiting for you to land, is the man who has sworn your death, and from whom there is no escape. So listen next week when Escape brings you Robert Tallman's story, The King of O'Onotu. Stay tuned now for Nightwatch, which follows immediately over most of these stations. America listens most to the CBS Radio Network. The the the the the the the the that that that
