["The Last Supper"] Well, it wasn't supposed to be a real murder, no. It was just a demonstration of how one might be committed, and... When the make-believe was over, everyone was surprised that the victims still lay there... Until they noticed the widening pool of blood... Real blood. ["The Last Supper"] Hello, creeps. This is Peter Laurie, opening the doors of the Mystery Playhouse. Well, the lid's off again. Mr. and Mrs. North are on the scene. Yes, the two turtle doves of crime are on the loose again... With their usual unpredictable results. The whole thing starts when Jerry North promises to meet Frisbee Clisbee... With the mystery rider on the street corner of Times Square during the rush hour. He should have known that anyone with a name like that could only mean trouble, but... Be that as it may, he and Pam find themselves bucking this Times Square crowd... As they wait for Frisbee. Oh, Jerry, I wish people would stop pushing and shoving. You can't expect miracles, darling. Only everybody would stand right where they are until everybody else got out of the way. Somehow, I'm afraid that wouldn't work. Total strangers walking all over my feet, kicking me in the shin. What's that got to do with it? Darling, my feet are being squashed to a pulp. I meant the total strangers. Would your feet feel any better if acquaintances were stepping on them? Well, at least there wouldn't be so many. There are more people I don't know than I have known. Oh. Well, anyway, it's... Oh, here comes Frisbee. Oh, thank heavens. Now maybe we can get away from here. Hello, Pam. Hello, Jerry. Well, you're late for being... Time, fooey. I should allow myself to be brow-beaten by a watch and me a mechanical gadget. Okay, Frisbee. Anyway, come on now. Let's get out of this crowd. Why? What's wrong with the crowd? It's too crowded. Another illusion, Shaffer. What's that? I thought you Norse loved your fellow man. We do. But we don't like him walking all over our feet. Sorry, but the crowd is part of my plan. What plan? Jerry, my boy, I'm going to prove to you that when I write a murder, it's murder. Hmm? You said Snorty couldn't get away with it. I don't think he could. Who's Snorty? A character in my book commits a murder, a beautiful murder, in a crowd. In a crowd? But wouldn't somebody notice? That's just the point. Not if there was a distraction. Not if there was a distraction. Sorry, Frisbee, I still don't believe it. I'll take the story, but you've got to change that scene. I'll starve first. Huh? Okay, so I wouldn't starve. He's got me there, Pam. I like to eat too much. Ah, me. Selling my soul for a bowl of soup. It's filet mignon, brother, and you know it. Well, anyway, the principles are the same, or the lack of principle. But I won't have you murdering my murders. After all, there's a limit to what an artist will tolerate. I'm sorry, Frisbee, I just can't believe that man. Look, look, look. You believe this is a crowd, don't you? Definitely. Well, if I were to kill somebody right here, right now... What? ...in front of all these people... Are you okay? ...and nobody noticed... But Frisbee... ...then would you take that scene, Jerry? Oh, stop it, fellow. What's the use of it here? Would you? Would you? Well, naturally, but... Okay, that's all I wanted to know. Frisbee, you don't really mean that you really... Hey, you. Why don't you look where you're going? Well, as a matter of fact, I wasn't going anywhere. I was just standing here. Oh, well, why, Skye, huh? Hardly. Now, look, stranger, why don't you run along and leave me alone? Oh, you want to get rid of me, huh? I suppose I ain't good enough to talk to you. Okay, okay. Hang around, and it'll make you happy. Now, what were you saying, Frisbee? Wait a minute, wait a minute. I ain't through with you yet. Oh, sorry. Huh? I said I'm sorry. What kind of a way to talk is that? What do you mean? Don't you know you've been insulted? I hadn't noticed. Gee, Mr. Frisbee, I don't know what to do with him. He don't want to fight. Well, sock him. Huh? Go on, sock him. Why, Frisbee. Well, what are you waiting for, Punchy? I can't sock a guy unless he makes me mad. Thank you, Punchy. You so great delicacy of evening. Why, you. Oh, what's the matter now? Delicate, am I? Take that. Oh! I'll show you who's delicate, you dirty rat. Hey, you knocked me down. So I did. Hey, maybe I am delicate. Or maybe I'm not. Well, did you see me do it? Did you see me do it? Do what? With a murder. What are you talking about? Come here. What is it? Look, in that doorway, see that fella lying on the steps. Oh, Frisbee. Looks just like a drunk, doesn't it, huh? Wait a minute, wait a minute. That ain't no drunk. Ah, you keep out of this, Mr. Frisbee. I seen what I seen with my own two eyes, I did. I was standing right here on this spot. What's your name, sir? Me? Yeah. Gerald North. I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. North. My name's Willis, Cuthbert Willis, and I'm prepared to testify I am. I ain't afraid. He can intimidate me. He can. What are you talking about? Your friend here, I seen him. He is your friend, ain't he? Yes. Well, sir, just goes to show you ought to be more careful what kind of friends you choose. I seen what he did. I give up. I positively give up. Well, I should hope so. I still say it would have worked, Jerry. If only Punchy had put up any kind of a fight. Are you referring to me, Mr. Frisbee? Yes, Punchy, I am. Why did you let him knock you down so fast? If you'd only created a real disturbance, nobody would have noticed me. Oh, gee, I'm sorry, Mr. Frisbee. I'm afraid it's like this fella says. I have great delicacy of feelings, and I guess tonight I was feeling extra delicate. Oh, it spoiled my feud. You stabbed him, you did? I saw it with a knife. Frisbee, you didn't. Not really. Oh, no, of course. Come on, bud, get up. How can he get up? You killed him. Nonsense. Do I look like a lunatic? Okay, so looks are only skin deep. Now, look, Jerry, I wouldn't really kill a guy just to prove a point. Oh, thank heavens for that. But I did go through the motions, and no one would have noticed either if Punchy hadn't been feeling so plain delicate. Come on, bud, get up. Bud. Wait a minute, Frisbee. This fellow's not going to get up. What do you mean? I mean, this fellow's really been stabbed. He's dead. ["The New York Commissar's Theme"] New York Commissar? I'd like to speak to Lieutenant Wagon, please. Okay. Hello, Bill. Tam and I have... What's that? Guess there's been a murder. Okay, Bill, relax. After all, you don't think we enjoy finding bodies, do you? Right in the doorway of the Kramer Building. I'm calling from the drugstore next door. Okay, we'll wait. So long. And Bill's coming right over. Oh, good. Now, where's Frisbee? I want to ask him... Mr. Nook! Mr. Nook! He's getting away, he is! What? The murderer! He's getting in a cab! He's going to escape! That's right. Look, Jerry, there's Frisbee getting in a cab in front of the store. Yeah, come on. Frisbee, wait a minute! Frisbee! He won't wait! I knew it! I knew it! That wacky idiot. He's only going to make things worse. Come on, Tam, we've got to catch him. The taxi's turned the corner already, Jerry. We'll never be able to catch him. Never mind that. I think I know where he's gone. Are you a mind reader? No, darling, a script reader. And it's taught me what goes on in what Frisbee uses for a mind. Well, Tam, here's the elevator. Get in. All right, Jerry. Push the button for the fifth floor, will you, please? Yes, Jerry. And now, will you please tell me why we came here? Because, according to the papers on the dead man, this is where he lived. But what makes you think that Frisbee will be here? Because, darling, I've published Frisbee's books for years. Oh. And you accused me of talking in circles. It's really simple, sweetheart. In every one of Frisbee's stories, the first place the hero goes in checking up on a murder is to the victim's apartment looking for clues. And you think Frisbee is living the part now? Well, it's worth a chance. Now, let's see. 5C. There it is, darling, right across the hall. Okay, come on. And do his heroes have any special ways of getting into apartments that don't belong to them? Mm-hmm. They usually pick the locks. Let's see if it works. Well? Yep, it's open. Come on. I don't see him. Then maybe he's in the other room. Frisbee! Golly, Jerry. What is it? Suppose the person who picked that lock wasn't Frisbee. Then, sweetheart, we are definitely sticking our necks out. That wouldn't be the first time. Somebody's been here. Look at the papers all over that desk. Yeah. Let's see what they... Wait a minute. What is it, darling? Look, alongside the desk. Oh, golly. Feet. Yeah. Where there are feet, there's usually a body. Let's see. Yes, there is. Uh-oh. It's Frisbee. Oh, Jerry. Jerry. Is he... Wait a minute. Oh, it's all right, Pam. He's breathing. Oh, thank heavens. Frisbee, are you all right? Hello, Pam. Jerk. Well, what are you doing here? How'd you find me? How did you know where I was? Jerry read it in the book. Oh, my head. Ooh, how did they do it? Do what? Get it through the door. Your head? No, the General Grant. What the devil are you talking about? The tank. I was hit by a tank, a General Grant. Frisbee, aren't you exaggerating? Oh, well, perhaps slightly. Do you think you'll be all right, Frisbee? Well, I'll never be the same. Oh, well, maybe it'll be an improvement. Did you catch her? Her? Who? Shirley Anderson. No, I see you didn't. Who's Shirley Anderson? The dead man's fiancee. Pardon, ex-fiancee. Well, why should we have caught her? Was she here? Well, she must have been. Did you see her? No, but she'd be the only one who wanted the letter. What letter? When I came here, I found a letter from Shirley to Bud, breaking off their engagement. Seems they had a fight. What for is the letter? Well, I had it in my hand, and everything went black. Oh. So Shirley Anderson was General Grant. Well, she must have been. Oh, my head. Oh, I know that girl has a... She's a lot stronger than she looks, or I'm getting soft-hitted. And, uh... Jerry, who are you calling? I want to see if I can get hold of Bill Wagon. Okay, but don't tell him I'm here. Bill won't hurt you, Frisbee. Oh, the police are fools. They'll lock me up and try to sweat a confession out of me. I've got to solve this crime before they catch me. Oh, cut the dramatic. I know what I'm talking about. Sure, it happens in every book you write. But Bill isn't like that. You're just making matters worse by running away. But, Jerry, I didn't kill Bud, and I... I'm sure you didn't, but... Oh, wait a minute. Hello. Green Drugstore? Well, I work. You do me a favor. Will you please go next door to the Kramer Building and give a message to Lieutenant Wagon of the New York Homicide Squad? Yes, I think you'll find him there. Just tell him that Jerry called and say that he and Pam are at Bud Barnes' apartment. It's 5C in the Sylvester James Apartments. That's right. Thank you very much. Jerry, let's face it. Let's face what, Frisbee? Look, I am a genius. And a genius has no business sitting on the floor holding his head. There's a crime to be solved, and I'm the man to solve it. Well, when Bill gets here... I can't wait for Bill. Time is of the essence. First, we must array our facts. Okay, array away. Well, number one... Whoever killed Bud must be someone who knew of your plan to put on a nack for Jerry with Bud. Ah, check. But that gets us nowhere too fast on account of there are too many. Bud and I decided on the act at a party last night at which there were guests, more guests, and assorted sundries. I see. So, we have to find something more specific. Uh, check? Uh, check. Punching is out. He knows from nothing, even less. Uh, check? Uh, check. Well, uh, let's see. There's, uh, Harvey Hollis. Harvey Hollis? Yeah. Used to be in love with Shirley. Maybe still is. So he could have killed Bud to get Shirley Anderson for himself, not knowing that they'd had a fight. That's it. But I doubt it. However, I can't overlook any possibilities. But my money is still on... Miss Anderson herself. Definitely. Had a fight with Bud. She was at the party. So, motive, knowledge. All she needed was the opportunity. Uh, check? Uh, check. Then what are we waiting for? Bill. Waste of time. The time is... I know, I know. Of the essence. That wouldn't be running away. You'd be with me, and you could call Bill from Shirley's. He could meet us there. Well... Jerry, I am not one to be framed for murder and take it lying down. Say nothing about a conk on the noggin. Which you did take, lying down. Well, I must have satisfaction. It's up to me to crack this case. I think he's right, Jerry. Come on, let's go to Miss Anderson's with him. Well... You said that before. Come on, Pam, let you and me go. Jerry can join us if he wants to. Now, wait a minute. But time is... Of the essence. Okay, okay, come on. Let's go. Why, Frisbee, Frisbee. Hello, Shirley. I want you to meet Mr. and Mrs. North. Oh, how too, too exciting. I've heard so much about you and everything. How did it go? What? The ads. You went bad, Frisbee. Oh, did it work? It must be too, too exciting to work out a perfect crime. I'd love to see you in the movies. I'm going to be a good friend of yours. I'm going to be a good friend of yours. I'm going to be a good friend of yours. I'm going to be a good friend of yours. I'm going to be a good friend of yours. I'd love to do it. Except that if you did, really, I mean, how would anyone know? And if they didn't, what fun would it be? Oh, come on in. Thank you. Stu's here, Frisbee. You know him, Stuart Payne. He was at the party last night. Yes. Oh, Stu, look who's here. Oh, hello there, Frisbee. Hello. Stu, this is Mr. and Mrs. North. You know, the Mr. and Mrs. North. How do you do? How do you do? Oh, Frisbee, you haven't told me. Did you fool Mr. North? I'm simply bursting. You didn't mind, did you, Mr. North? I think it was such a cute idea. Quick, that's the word for it. Did you, Frisbee? Surely, somebody killed Bud. I know, you did. I mean, really. I beg your pardon. I pretended to kill him and pushed him into a doorway. Somebody must have been hiding in there and really killed him. What? That's impossible. Why is it impossible, Mr. Payne? Well, I mean, why would anyone want to? I don't know, but somebody did. I've always wanted me to be an actress, but I'm never any good, even though my profile does look something like Katharine Hepburn. Well, I suppose I'll be suspected, won't I? Because you look like Katharine Hepburn? Because I can't act like Katharine Hepburn. Oh, just think what Bernhard would have done with a moment like this. I'll bet Davis, I think she's terrific, don't you? Simply terrific. Aren't we somehow getting away from the point, Miss Anderson? Oh, no, not at all, Mr. North. My lover has just been killed. At least she's supposed to be my lover. I could make with the hysterics and stuff. You'd all be pitting me and sniffling and saying, there, there, poor little girl. I see. Shirley, you hated Budd, didn't you? No, Frisbee, but I do think that he was a stinker, if you'll pardon my saying so. She's upset. She doesn't realize what she's saying. I think she does. In fact, I know she does. She loved Budd. Why should she have wanted... But he done her dirt, ditched her, and hell hath no fury, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. That's not so. Budd and Shirley are... Are all washed up, Stu. Let's face it. Shirley, you didn't kill Budd. Of course not, silly. Then why keep on saying things like... They happen to be the truth. Mr. North, yes? I killed Budd. Stu, you didn't. Excellent, excellent. It all fits. Does it, Frisbee? Yes. I couldn't have done it better myself. What do you mean? The perfect buildup to the confession. Sort of like my handling of death rides a pogo stick, don't you think, Jerry? Yeah. Stu's lying, Mr. North. He didn't kill Budd. He couldn't have. Why not? Well, he... Well, I mean, he's just not the type. I mean, I know him. I... Oh, dear, I don't know what I mean. I tell you, I killed Budd. Then I suppose you stole the letter, too. What letter? About Shirley's fight with Budd. Okay, as long as you know about it anyway, it doesn't make any difference. Here. Here it is. Let's see it. Here you are. Thank you. Is it Frisbee? Uh-huh. This is it. Now, do you believe me? Oh, Stuart. Miss Anderson, may I use your telephone, please? Oh, yes, of course. Oh, Stu, this isn't like you at all. It positively isn't. What? Going around killing people. What ever made you do it? Sure, Budd was a stinker, but even so... In fact, he was a terrific stinker. He was... Oh, you know, Stu, I don't blame you. Oh, stop it, Shirley. Hello, Bill. I thought I'd be able to get you at Barnes' apartment. Us? Well, we're at Miss Anderson's. Well, I know. I said we'd stay there, but... But Bill... But Bill! He's angry. Well, Bill, you don't understand. We have the murderer for you. What's that? You don't say. Okay, well, we'll wait here anyway. Yes, honestly, we won't budge until you get here. Okay, so long. Well, what do you know? I don't know, Jerry. What do you know? I told Bill we'd caught the murderer. Yes? Well, he said, so has he. Excellent. A nice twist. A very nice twist. There now, Stu, I told you it wasn't you. Who was it, Mr. North? Harvey Hollis. Oh, no. Oh, yes. That's why you had the fight with Budd, Miss Anderson. You had jilted him for Mr. Hollis. What, sir? Miss Anderson jilted Budd for Hollis, and Budd threatened to kill Hollis. Hollis has admitted that much. No, no, it's not true. So Hollis must have killed Budd in self-protection. Bill told him. He says he has proof Hollis is the murderer. What a fool. What a complete and absolute fool. Who? Me. To think that... There he goes. Hey, wait a minute. He's getting away, Jerry. We've got to stop him. Come on. Oh, dear, he knows we're following him. He's speeding. Yeah. Drive it. Don't let him get away. He turned the corner. So did we. Oh, golly. Exciting, but sort of pointless, don't you think? Not if we want to catch Payne. But do we? What do you mean, Prisby? Of course we do. You see, Prisby, Hollis didn't really kill Budd. Oh, I know that. The guard driver, a car just cut in in front of us. Jerry. Jerry, are you all right? Yes, darling. Are you? I don't know. Oh, okay, Jerry. You win. What do I win? My surrender, unconditional. I'm a man of deep sensitivity. Auto crashes, bangs on the belfry, not for me. Have your Bill arrest me. What's the third degree compared to this? Oh, don't worry, Prisby. He won't arrest you. Oh. Because we know who the murderer is now. So do I, but the police won't believe it. I think they will, Prisby. If we ever stand still long enough for them to get to us. Well, Mr. Payne's gotten away, so I guess the thing for us to do is to go back to Miss Addison and wait for Bill there. Yeah. Well, I certainly hope he'll listen to you. Because I'm kind of allergic to being beaten with a rubber hose. Hello, Miss Addison. We've come back. Oh, that's too bad. Thank you. I mean, Lieutenant Wigand will be very angry. Oh, why? We told him we'd meet him here. I know, but you didn't. Do you mean he's been here? Oh, yes. Where did he go? Out looking for you. Well, maybe we better go look for him. Round and round we go. Oh, no we don't. We're staying here if Miss Addison doesn't object. Not at all. Not at all. Come in. Thank you. Come in and sit down and tell me all about it. Who did it? It couldn't be Harvey, you know. That's absurd. Besides, Harvey had nothing to do with my breaking off with Bud. I know that, Miss Addison. Bill didn't say anything about Harvey. I just made that up to see what Payne would do. What did he do? Didn't you see? He ran away. But where did he go? We don't know. He got away. Well, it doesn't matter anyway because he's not the murderer. Oh, good. But how do you know, Frisbee? Well, it's obvious. He only confessed to protect you. Why, how romantic. Are you sure? Of course. That's the way it's always done. Always? In his stories. But then who really killed Bud? Well, you see... Sorry, Pam. There's only one person who could... Sorry, Pam. Oh, that's all right, Frisbee. What were you going to say? What was I going to say? I was just going to tell her the name of the murderer. It's Cuthbert Willis. Who? Cuthbert Willis. Who's he? A little man who claims he saw me kill Bud. What makes you think it was Mr. Willis, Frisbee? Well, it's simple. Nothing points to him. What do you mean? The least suspicious character, don't you see? Oh, Frisbee. I hate to disappoint you again, old man, but I'm afraid it isn't Willis. It must be. No. Well, that leaves Shirley. Really, Frisbee, really? No gentleman would accuse a girl of murder in her own parlor, even if it were true, which it isn't. Well, now, wait a minute, wait a minute. It wasn't my idea. No mine. But, Jerry, you said... I said it wasn't Willis. But that only leaves Shirley and Stuart. And don't you agree that his confession was just to protect her? Of course he confessed to protect her. Well, he's obviously in love with her. That's just the point. I don't get it. Well, as I see it, Payne was so much in love with Miss Anderson that he killed the man she was engaged to in order to be able to have her for himself. Not knowing that she'd already had a fight with a fiance. Then when he found out about the fight... And found there were letters proving there had been a fight. He had to get those letters to keep her from being accused of the murder. And then when that didn't work, he was willing to give himself up rather than see her arrested. Then the confession was on the level? That's right, Frisbee. Huh, interesting twist. I'll have to try that sometime. But if it's Stuart Payne, how are we going to catch him? He's already made his getaway. Oh, perhaps he'll be back. I'm afraid not. Well, Frisbee, if this were one of your stories, he'd walk in just about now with a gun in his hand. Oh, no, I'd never use that. Why not? Boy, it'd be too convenient. It'd seem contrived. Would it, Frisbee? Stu. Yes, it's me. And as you see, I have the gun too. That's what I went for. Unbelievable. No, it isn't, Frisbee. And it isn't contrived. I sort of had an idea he'd be back. Yes, you're right. I am back. Surely I loved you. I'd have done anything for you. I'd have stolen for you. I'd have killed for you. I did kill for you. What did I get out of it? First it was Bud and now Harvey. No, Stu, that's not true. Mr. Norris just made up that story about Harvey. I don't believe it. It's so. I just wanted to see what you'd do. You can't fool me. I know her. She never loved me. She never will. Well, all right, I'll fix her. I'll kill her. No, Stuart! Mr. Payne, look out behind you. What? Right. Boy, stop that gun. You! Mr. Norris, you knocked him out. Hold the phone. I'll get it. Oh, this is too much. This is positively too much. What's the matter, Frisbee? Oh, it's bad enough that my perfect murder failed and the confession was on the level and the murderer shows up right on cue. But for you to get the gun away from me with that oldie look out behind you. Oh, oh, oh, Pam. No, no, no. Oh. Mr. Norris. Yes? That was Lieutenant Wigand on the phone. He wanted to know where you were. I told him you were back here again. Well, didn't he want to talk to us? No. He said he doesn't like to use that kind of language on the telephone. Well, darling, Payne has confessed again to the police this time. Well, I hope Frisbee believes him this time. I hope so, too. He should have believed him the first time as soon as he saw the letter. Well, of course he should have. Mr. Payne pretended that he didn't know anything about the murder until we told him. But he stole the letter before we told him. That's right. That clinched it. Yes, darling. Oh, poor Frisbee. Nothing worked out the way he'd have done it. Well, maybe we can give him his ending at least. What's that mean? Well, at this point, in all of his adventures of Mr. and Mrs. Wallaby, Mr. and Mrs. Wallaby retire. Well, pleasant dreams. And thanks for supplying us with tonight's bedtime story in a mystery playhouse. See, I hear that your entries for the Globe Theatre radio playwriting contest are coming in front. My friend Herbert Marshall, director of the Globe Theatre, asked me if I wouldn't say something about the length of the script. Your script should take about 25 to 27 minutes to play, including all allowances for sound effects and music bridges. This should mean about 25 to 27 double-spaced typewritten pages. Mr. Marshall wanted me to emphasize that it's better to write them long than short. For any additional information you need about the Globe Theatre contest, write to the station or to contest editor Armed Forces Radio Los Angeles, USA. Well, we'd better start down to the green room right away or we'll be late for the preview performance of our next mystery playhouse attraction. Follow me, please. Come. Come. Come, come. Mr. Joyce, why do you speak to me this way? After all, Mr. Joyce, I'm not criminal. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. No. No. No. I'm sorry. All right, cry it out. Don't, don't let the pain get to me. Will you pull yourself together, please? Just give me time. Just give me some time and let me think I was wrong. Mrs. Crosley, I'll come back later. No. No, don't leave me. But I... Well? Well, Mrs. Crosley? Will they... Will whoever had the original letter sell it? Why, yes, I think so. Who had it? The Chinese woman who was living in Hammond Town. The Chinese woman. Does she want very much for it? I imagine she wants a very large sum. Mr. Joyce, are you going to let them hang me because of a paltry sum of money? What... Do you think it's so simple as all that to secure possession of that letter? Why, you have no right to make any such suggestion to me. Well, then what will happen to me? Well, you should have thought of that before. Justice must take its course. I know that I have no right to ask you to do anything that isn't proper, but you must do everything you can to help me. Mr. Joyce, you're my conqueror. Now who else will help me? You've got to. You've got to help me, Mr. Joyce. Now, please, I'm getting down on my knees. Mrs. Crosby, please, stop it. Could your husband raise the money? Yes, I'm sure he could. Well, you know that he'd have to be told what it was for. Yes, but does he have to see the letter? He's in love with me, Mr. Joyce. He'd make me sacrifice to save me. Well, I'm not sure that I... Well, he's an old friend of yours. Now, I'm not asking you to do anything for me. I'm asking you to save a rather simple, kind man who never did you any harm from all the pain that's possible. Mrs. Crosby. All right. I'll help you. But on one condition. Yes. Now, you tell me the truth about the letter. Now, will you tell me the truth about that night? Oh, yes, yes, I will. I will. All right. Did you or did you not shoot Hammond in self-defense? Well, of course it was in self-defense. I swear to you, Mr. Joyce, it was in self-defense. Now, you've got to believe me. You must help me. Please, Mr. Joyce, I'm placing my life in your hands. I wouldn't lie to you. Now, I will. Very well, Mrs. Crosby. I, um, I must go now. Mr. Joyce, what are you going to do? Do? I don't know. Yes, creeps. Next time, we are going to go dramatic. Yes, it's one of the classic stories of its kind, written by the fine English author, Somerset Moam. So be in your seats next time. I'll be waiting for you. I'll be waiting for you. I'll be waiting for you. I'll be waiting for you. I'll be waiting for you. So be in your seats next time, ready for the curtain on the letter. This is Peter Laurie closing the doors of the mystery playhouse. Good night, sweet night. This is the Armed Forces radio service. This is the Armed Forces radio service.
