BTS Suspense. This is the man in black. Here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense. Heading our starring Hollywood cast this evening is Mr. Paul Lucas. And with him are Miss Heather Angel and Mr. Bramwell Fletcher. A story by John Dixon Carr dealing with strange, very strange happenings in a London curio shop. And called Mr. Markham, Antique Dealer. Is tonight's tale of Suspense. If you've been with us on these Tuesday nights, you will know that Suspense is compounded of mystery and suspicion and dangerous adventure. In this series our tales calculated to intrigue you, stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation and then withhold a solution till the last possible moment. And so with the performances of Heather Angel, Bramwell Fletcher, Paul Lucas as Mr. Markham, Antique Dealer, we again hope to keep you in Suspense. This is the story of a man who commits murder and gets away with it. Does the idea shock you? Do you believe that justice must always be done? But let's be honest with ourselves. You and I needn't be cynics to know that justice is very seldom done. Innocence flinches. Guilt is childlike and bland. Innocence is imposed upon. Guilt can encompass all things, even a successful murder. And I know this because I was the murderer you say? Oh no. Inquire Scotland Yard. I was the victim. In Bond Street, not far from Piccadilly, there used to be an establishment, which in a less fashionable part of town would have been called a shop. Under windows in letters as discreet as a visiting card were the words Charles Markham, Antique Dealer. Such a delightful fellow, Markham. Such a character. Thirty years ago, yes as long as that, this antique shop was a dingy place. Despite deep carpets and crystal chandeliers, it rustled with the ticking of a hundred clocks. It was shadowed by damson armor and the loom of tall tapestries. And late one summer night, when the shutters were long closed on those windows, a four-wheeler drew up before the door in the gaslit street. That's all, Cabby. You needn't wait. Very good, Miss. Good night. Good night. He must be here. He must be. I won't go back to that place. I'll kill myself first. Look here, old man. You needn't be. Oh, I beg your pardon. And I beg yours. I'm, I'm not the person you were expecting, am I? No, madam. As a matter of fact, I was expecting a police officer. A police officer? Oh, merely an old friend who was a police officer. Oh, merely an old friend who often drops in for a talk and a drink. You are Mr. Markham, aren't you? Yes, my name is Markham. Can I be of any service to you? I want to come in. I, I, I want to buy a present for somebody. Really, madam, this is hardly the time. Yes, I, I know it's late, but... It's nearly one o'clock, madam. Surely tomorrow morning will be... That'll be too late. This is a special occasion. It's, it's a birthday present. A birthday present. That's it, a birthday present. I've got to deliver it before breakfast. And, uh, Sir George Lytle says this is the only place in London to buy antiques. Sir George flatters me. Won't you let me come in? Just for five minutes. Well, under the circumstances, madam, I think it might be managed. Now, one moment while I put some lights on. No, please. That one little light will be enough. But you won't be able to see anything. That doesn't matter. I, I'll trust your judgment. Just as you like. This way, madam. What's that? That noise? Oh, you mean the clocks, madam? There are more than a hundred clocks in this room. I'm very fond of them. Don't they get on your nerves? Ticking away together like a nightmare? Striking the hours together? They don't strike together, madam. When the hour approaches, you will hear a musical din that lasts for some time. Might I interest you perhaps in a clock? No. I hate them. Now, all the same, this grandfather clock might amuse you. What about it? Observe the signature. Johannes Gukarver, Londini, facet A.D., 1752. You could see better, madam, if you raise that veil. I'll keep my veil down, thanks. Just as you please. But look at the clock. I open the glass face like this. Then I push the second hand forward like this and... One o'clock and all's well. One o'clock and all's well. What was that voice? Only the clock, madam. Nothing more. The clock spoke? Clever, isn't it? The devise of old John Carter. Anticipating Mr. Edison's gramophone by more than a hundred years. Oh, but you don't like clocks. No. May I ask whether the present is for a lady or a gentleman? It's for a man. Oh, has he some knowledge of antiques? Yes. I mean... Furniture, perhaps. Porcelain, bronzes, tapestries, weapons. He might be very much interested in weapons. Then I imagine his name is Mr. Ronald Gilbert. Now, will you tell me, Miss Ray, why you really came here tonight? So you know who I am. Oh, naturally. You are Miss Judith Ray. And why did you come here? I wanted to see what sort of a man you actually were. Oh, and have you found out? No, but... but I won't go back to prison. I won't. As you will. But since it's to be a business conference, Miss Ray, and I imagine it is... Yes. Well, then suppose we go into my office, here at the back of the shop. Will you proceed me? Thank you. I must excuse the dust covers I've put on the chairs here. I'm leaving for a holiday tomorrow, and the shop will be closed. Then I return next week, Miss Ray. I shall expect the amount requested. In cash, of course. But I can't raise 2,000 pounds. You ought to know that. Well, your fiancée could raise the money, I imagine. Ron? Do you think I'd have Ron know where I've been? Or what I've been? It's better than having his father learn it, surely. Now sit down, Miss Ray. I'll stand, thank you. Now, that's a very foolish gesture. But the ladies will do it. They think it gives them dignity and shows the disdain of the poor blackmailer. You see, I make no bones about it. I am a blackmailer. You seem rather proud of yourself. Why not? I am the one person in England, perhaps in the world, who has made it a large-scale business. Congratulations. And what is all life about blackmail? The child says, if you don't give me that, I'll scream. The woman says, if you go on behaving like this, I will leave you. Your sex, Miss Ray, are blackmailers from the cradle. You know, Charles Markham, I wonder... Yes? I wonder if anybody's ever hurt you very much. Hurt me? What do you mean? When you talk about the world and people in general, your face goes white under the eyes. You pick up that letter opener from the desk... Not a letter opener, please, Miss Ray. A Medici dagger. It's a century-old work. It isn't the money that really interests you. I don't understand. You hate the world. You just want to torture people. But you think you've been tortured, isn't that so? This is a very sharp dagger, Miss Ray. If I throw it down on the desk, it sticks. Like that. Isn't it so, Charles Markham? My motives, Miss Ray, aren't in question. I wonder... Whereas your motives are. Now, let me see. Ten years ago, in 1903, a certain girl called Blatty Wilson, a real name, I believe, fell in love with a rather contemptible underworld character named Arthur Akers. Please! No humiliation was too great for her. She worked for him, lied for him, stole for him. I was only 18. I didn't know what I was doing. Now, this girl, for a very shabby theft, was sentenced to three years' hard labor at Holloway Prison. Five months later, she escapes from prison and disappears. All these years afterwards, she appears in the West End as Miss Judith Ray, fashionable millionaire. Haven't I made up for it? Haven't I? No. I'm not going to make. After ten years... It's the way of the world, my dear. I didn't create it. And I'm forgetting the best part of the comedy. This paragon of virtue next falls in love with Mr. Ronald Gilbert, son of Major General Sir Edmund Gilbert. Such a respectable family. Stop it, please! Then, shall we say, 2,000 pounds? Suppose I did raise the money. I don't know how, but... Suppose I did raise it. Well? What guarantee would I have that you wouldn't ask for still more money? We shall ask for more money, Miss Ray. That's my privilege as a black mayor. Then... Then I'm never going to be free of you. Is that it? Well, frankly, that's it. Unless I kill you, of course. What if I did kill you? People have threatened it before, but they haven't meant it. Maybe I mean it. Well, we can easily test you out. There's a sharp knife stuck in the desk in front of you. I'm going to get up and deliberately turn my back on you. Like this. Be careful, Charles Markham. As a student of human nature, I'm curious. How much will you risk to keep this secret? Have you the courage to kill and risk hanging? Yes. I think I have. What was that? Now, aren't you glad you held back at the last moment, Miss Ray? I said, what was that? That, my dear, was the front doorbell. Probably my friend, Inspector Ross, from Bigmore Street Police Station. Come in, old man. Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be with you in a moment. You wanted me to attack you, didn't you? No, I was merely curious. And in any case, Miss Ray, it would be useless to kill me. Useless? Why? Because I shouldn't die. Don't talk rot. Oh, it's quite true. A man in my position must take certain precautions. If you kill me, I should be back to haunt you within half an hour. And I don't happen to be joking. Come in. I'm here, Martha. Good Lord, Judith. Ron. Mr. Ronald Gilbert, as I live. Ron, what are you doing here? He hasn't got anything against you, has he? Speak up, Mr. Gilbert. Have I? The fact is, Judith, I... Look at him, Miss Ray. See how he changes color and twists his moustache and altogether resembles a boy caught in his mother's gem cupboard. Perfect picture of a gentleman being a gentleman. Look here, Markham. I'm not very clever. You can always make a fool of me when you start talking, so let's stop talking. I've brought the money. What money? Oh, merely my fee for keeping quiet about you. So you went to Ron, too. You told him about it. Naturally. If possible, always sell you wares in two markets. How much money? Never mind, Judith. I hoped I could do this without your knowing. How much money? Three thousand. It's all I could raise. Has he... has he told you who I am and what I've been? Look here, Judith, who the devil cares who you are or what you've been? I happen to be in love with you. I... Never mind. Let's get out of here. Ron, it's no good. He'll only come back for more money. I know that. But what else can we do? Nothing, I'm afraid. Well, what's that knife doing there stuck in the desk? Nothing dangerous, I assure you. No? Merely a curio. I pick it up like this, I flip it down like this, and pick it up again. Miss Ray was very much interested in the dagger. Now, may I have that envelope with the money, please? There you are. Take it. Thank you. As I explained to Miss Ray, I'm leaving tomorrow for a holiday, hence the general disarray and the dust covers on the chairs. But before my departure, I'm glad we could settle this affair, as you would say, like gentlemen. Before we clear out of here, Markham, there's just one favor I'd like to ask. Well, of course, old man, ask away. This is your job, I suppose. You can't help being what you are, but never again, as long as you live... Well? Never even say the word, gentlemen. Be careful, Ron. Look at his face. Tell me, Mr. Gilbert, how much money is in this envelope? You heard what I said, 3,000 pounds. Then take it back, my friend. I fanged. We can't strike a bargain after all. What do you mean? Just what I say. Here is your money. You will now oblige me, both you and Miss Ray, by leaving my shop. What... what are you going to do? Tomorrow morning, perhaps even tonight, I'm going to get in touch with the police, and I shall tell them where they can find Letty Wilson, alias Judith Ray. You can't do that, Markham. Oh, yes, he can. You hit him where it hurts. 3,000 pounds, my friend, is not enough compensation for the way you talk. There is a way through the shop. Shall I escort you to the front door? No. Oh, so you prefer to stay here and make a fool of yourself. You're not going to tell the police, Markham. I promise you that. And how are you going to stop me? With this. Ron, put that gun away. It's a funny thing, Judith. I felt a bit of a fool, you know, bringing this revolver along. But now I've got a use for it. Oh, yes, I've got a use for it. Maybe the best thing would be to go into the street now and call a policeman. You'll never get into the street, Markham. Are you following me into the shop? Yes. So both of you, it appears, came here under false pretenses. You said you wanted to pay me some money. The money's still here, but you've lost your chance to get it. And your dear Judith said she wanted to buy a present for you. I showed her this grandfather clock here, this talking clock. You go a step beyond that clock, Markham. I warn you. Nonsense, old man. You wouldn't dare shoot. Wouldn't I? No, and I'll call your bluff. One step. Two steps. Charlie! I know you'll hold silly tried, my friend. You wouldn't risk it. No, you wouldn't. What's happening to me? Don't try and grab onto the clock, Markham. It won't save you. You wouldn't risk your life. You wouldn't risk your family position. You wouldn't risk your life. One fifteen and all's well. One fifteen and all's well. I had to do it, Judith. Don't you see I had to do it? Did you? Is he? Oh, yes. Yes, he's done for. I tell you, I had to do it. Keep your voice down. Why? That shot sounded like the crack of doom. I wonder if anybody in the street heard it. You mean the police? Yes, Ron. What in heaven's name are we going to do? Steady, steady. We'll find a way out. Maybe he's not dead, Ron. Go and look at him. He's dead, all right. Please, Ron. Go and look at him. Well? Shot through the heart. The bullet went clean through him and smashed the face of the grandfather clock. That's all I can see in this dim light. This isn't happening to us. It can't be happening. I've got to think, but it's hard to think. You see, Judith, I'm not in a rage any longer. I'm just numb and a little bit scared. You're not going to give yourself up. And have this whole thing made public? Not likely. Wait a minute. There may be a way out. What way? He said he was going for a holiday. Remember? Well, suppose he did. That gives us time. It means his absence won't be noticed. The shop will be closed. Nobody will come here for days. And certainly nobody will come here tonight and... What's that? The police officer. I forgot the police officer. What police officer? A friend of Markham's. Inspector somebody or other from Wigmore Street. He's inspected here tonight. Then we're finished. No, Ronnie. We're not finished. He can't see anything out there. The shutters are down and the door is covered. Could you... Could you pick Markham up and carry him? Yes, yes, I could. Why? There must be a back way out of the shop. Probably in the office. Hurry, Ron. I don't like to touch him. Hurry, Ron. Please. He's as heavy as a sack of meal. He seems to be looking straight at me. I know. Everything here seems to have eyes and move a little in the shadow. Didn't you see the expression in Markham's eyes just before you... No, no, I didn't. He seemed to be looking behind us or beyond us. I don't know how to describe it. And he said something too that scared me. He said he couldn't die. He said... Close the door, quick. This police officer, Judith, he can't get into the shop, can he? Of course he can. The front door isn't locked. That's true. What's wrong with me, Judith? I came in that way myself. And there's no time to lock the front door now. Our only hope is through the back way. I thought I'd seen a back door and... There it is. Just a minute. I've killed a man. That means I'm a murderer. A fraction of a second, one tick of a clock in there, and you change from an ordinary happy person into... into what I... Well, Judith, well... I'm sorry, Vaughan. The door's locked. Isn't there a key? No. Maybe in his pockets on a key ring. There isn't time, Vaughan. I think I heard the front door open. Our visitor's coming in. I've got it. The dust covers. Those white cloths that... that cover, that fit over the chairs. Look at them. What on earth are you talking about? We used to play a game when we were kids. Somebody sits in a big chair, you know, you... you fit the dust cover over him and... and nobody can tell he's sitting there. Don't you see, Judith? That's how we can hide Markham's body. It might work if there's time. There's got to be time. Take the big cover off that chair. The wing chair. All right. Maybe there's a chance. I'll fit him into it. Arms along the chair arms. Feet push back. Now. Put the cover back again and... and pull it round down his feet. Don't let it touch his chest. The blood will show through. There. That's got it. You can't see anything now, can you? No, but... Ron. Well? What did you do with the gun? The gun? The gun you shot Markham with. Oh. Oh, Judith, I put it down on the floor when I picked up his body. Out in the other room? Yes, yes. I'm afraid so. And it's too late now, Judith. The police are here. What are you going to say? I don't know. Trust your wits and try and brazen it out. Yes? Come in. Good evening, Miss Ray. And good evening, Mr. Gilbert. Charles Markham? You're Charles Markham? Correct, Miss Ray. Why should that surprise you? Why do you look as though you were seeing a ghost? Because we are seeing a ghost. If you're Charles Markham, whose body is... Judith, be careful. Body, Miss Ray? Did you say body? Miss Ray's upset. She doesn't know what she's talking about. If you killed me, I should be back to haunt you within half an hour. That's what he said. I tell you, Miss Ray isn't herself. She had bad news today. A relative of hers died. I've been trying to make her feel better. Indeed. Do you think it would make her feel better to bring her here? I don't understand. My dear sir, you are very welcome. But the situation is truly a little odd. I come in here and find you two looking as guilty as a pair of murderers. If in my private office in the middle of the night. There's nothing odd about that. I wanted to buy Judith something. At one o'clock in the morning? Yes. Why not? Well, may I ask how you managed to get in? The front door was open. We just walked in. If you wish to buy something, why not stay in the showroom? Why come to my office? Hang it all. You don't think we wanted to steal anything, do you? Well, that thought did occur to me. You see, there was nobody else here. There's nobody here, Mr. Markham. Not a living soul. Then you didn't meet any chance my brother? Your...your brother? Yes, my brother Robert. You couldn't have mistaken him if you had seen him. He looks so much like me that few people can tell us apart. Oh. So that's it. Poor Robert. Often deputizes for me. He's learned to act like me, think like me, and talk like me. But he doesn't like the work very much. Of course, you know what my work really is. Is this part of the game? Are you playing a game? Are you trying to play cat and mouse with it? Robert is an idealist. He thinks, poor fellow, that my profession is beneath contempt. But he acts the part and acts it well because I pay him. And I find it useful to have a double who will run risks for me. What have you done with his body? We...we haven't done anything with him. If you've killed Robert, my friend, you've committed a totally useless murder. You don't see him here, do you? But I see his handiwork. Meaning what? I've warned him many times about throwing a knife down on a polished desk top. Those scratches on the desk are fresh scratches. Of course, if you give me your word of honor that he's not here... Of course he's not here. Well, in that case, all we can do is sit down and make ourselves comfortable. Will you sit there, Mr. Gilbert, and you, Miss Ray, in that wing chair by the window? What's wrong, Miss Ray? Why don't you sit down? I prefer to stand, thank you. Then perhaps you won't mind if I sit in the wing chair? It's a very comfortable one. My brother always says... Don't...don't sit down there for the life... Oh. So that's it. Yes. That's it. It is rather a thick chair. I press against the dust cover and blood comes through. I lift the bottom of the dust cover and... What's the use of going on with this? I killed him. You admit that? Yes, I admit it. But Judith had nothing to do with this. I swear she hadn't. My telephone, you notice, is against the wall. I shall have to turn my back to you when I ring. Ring? Where? Bigmore Street Police Station. Oh, no. Give him a chance. Please give him a chance. Hello? Hello, operator. I want Regent 0586. I won't let them take you on. I won't. It's no good, Judith. I killed a man. I meant to kill him. That's all there is to it. A very sensible attitude, my friend. And if the lady has any idea of flying at me with that knife, just notice what I've got here. A.32 revolver in one chamber fired, picked up off the floor in that room where... Hello? Hello? Wigmore Street Police Station. For the last time, Mr. Markham. Won't you give him a chance? Be quiet, Miss Ray. May I speak to Inspector Ross, please? Inspector Ross speaking? Isn't that Mr. Markham? Got it in one, Inspector. Charles Markham here. I understand you were going to drop in and see me tonight. I intended to, Mr. Markham, but I'm afraid I can't make it now. Why not? Anything wrong? Only a robbery in Davies Street, but it's likely to be a long job. Sorry I can't get there. Well, that's perfectly all right, Inspector, because actually I rang up to make sure you wouldn't come here tonight. You see, I've got a lot of work to do, and I'm leaving for Eastbourne early tomorrow morning. Let's make it some other time, shall we? Oh, glad to, Mr. Markham. No crime has been committed up your way, I suppose? No, Inspector. It's as quiet as the grave. I've never known a more peaceful night. Goodbye. Why did you do that? Now, please, don't excite yourself, Miss Ray. Didn't you hear what I told the Inspector? Yes, but is this some more trickery? Trickery? How can it be? I don't know. That's what I'm asking you. I should call it generous when I let my poor brother's death go. You're not doing this without a reason. Naturally not. But has it occurred to you, either of you, that I might not want my business dealings revealed in court? What are you driving at? And has it also occurred to you that a man's double, who looks exactly like him and shares all his secrets, may become a danger rather than an asset? He knows too much, he wants too much, and so... I think I understand. You're glad he's dead. Not glad, my dear. You shock my brother with feelings. But definitely relieved. Look here, you can't get away with this. Get away with it, sir? Aren't you forgetting that you are the murderer? Then what are you going to do? It is very simple. We three, in an unholy partnership, will dispose of Robert's body. Or would you rather hang? He's got us wrong. There's no other way. But how can we dispose of the body? This seems worse than killing him. It's filthy, cold-blooded practical necessity. And as for disposing of the body, nothing is easier. We shall simply gather the... And so, as I said before, this is the story of a man who commits murder and gets away with it. Now, Ronald Gilbert looks back across the years and is still firmly convinced of his own guilt. But of course, Gilbert never shot anybody. I was the man who committed the murder. Don't you remember? The bullet that killed my brother is supposed to have passed through his body and smashed the face of the grandfather clock. But that's an impossibility. The face of a grandfather clock is much higher than the heart of a man. You see, two shots were fired at the very same instant. Gilbert missed and smashed the clock face. I fired from the door of the office and did not miss. That was why my brother looked past those two. I went out by the back door, locked it, and reappeared at the front afterwards. It was not Robert Markham who died. I am Robert Markham. It was Charles who died that night. And I killed him to stop forever the wholesale blackmail that was poisoning the lives and blasting the hearts of a thousand half-crazed people. His records are destroyed, his correspondence are burned. He is dead and gone. I have assumed his name and identity ever since. I committed a murder. And yet, if you sat on a jury, dare you say that you would condemn me? Come now, would you? And so closes Mr. Markham, Antique Dealer, starring Paul Lucas with Heather Angel and Bramwell Fletcher. And the story of suspense. This is your narrator, the man in black, who conveys to you Columbia's invitation to spend this half hour in suspense with us again next Tuesday, when we will have the pleasure of bringing you Mr. Charles Lawton and Miss Elsa Lanchester, who will star in one of the most famous and suspenseful of Agatha Christie's thrillers, The ABC Murders. The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear, the director, Lut Bluskin, and Lucian Morawick, conductor and composer, and John Dixon Carr, the author, collaborated on tonight's suspense. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.
