Now, Romo Wines present... Suspense! Tonight, the larger and our distinguished star appearing as the storyteller and as the larger, Robert Montgomery. Suspense is presented for your enjoyment by Romo Wines. That's R-O-M-A, Romo Wines. Those excellent California wines that can add so much pleasantness to the way you live. Finding ways to make living more enjoyable is an art in which Miss Elsa Maxwell is an expert. This famous hostess and authority on hospitality gives you a good thought. Entertaining friends is one of life's finest pleasures. And I suggest to you, next time you have friends into dinner, serve them either ruby red Roma burgundy, so tartly rich and pecan, or pale golden Roma sauternes with its delicate, delicious flavor. If you choose burgundy, serve it cool. Or if sauternes, serve it well chilled. Use any glasses you have and serve whichever one you like best with any food. I happen to like burgundy with the richer meat dishes. Sauternes with fowl, fish, or the like. But you follow your own tastes and you'll be perfectly correct. The main point is, serving these wonderful Roma wines is a delightful compliment to your friends and a great addition to the adjoinment of meals. Well, the only possible thought I can add is that Roma burgundy and sauternes, like all Roma wines, are the best that California's magnificent sun-ripened grapes can provide in fine flavor, color, and fragrance. Are always unvaryingly good and delicious, protected by all the ancient skill of Roma's noted wineries. Yet all this goodness is yours for only pennies a glass. Listen, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wines. Roma, R-O-M-A, Roma wines. Yes, right now a glass full would be very pleasant as Roma wines bring you suspense. This is the Man in Black with a few words concerning London in the year 1888, a London terrorized by the fifth in a succession of recent murders, murders of young, attractive women. The unknown killer at large and little else absorbed the horrified imagination of the great city, of all those in fine quarters and all those in small grimy houses. As for example, Ellen Bunting. Ellen was no different from all the other middle-aged housewives dwelling in squalid Whitechapel. She knew all the known facts of the case. As that artful storyteller, Mr. Robert Montgomery, will tell you, Ellen knew it was quite proper to refer to this wielder of the knife as the Avenger. On Thursday night, the 16th of April, 1888 it was, Ellen Bunting and Robert, her husband, sat before their fireplace reading the newspaper account of the latest murder. The Avenger had struck again. As Ellen expressed it, he might be anybody. He might be the fellow you pass on the street. The fellow standing next to you, the man you bump into. Oh, it's a terrible thought. Yes, if only the police had something to go on. But it looks like the Avenger's just too quick for them. Look, it says here that this girl he got last night was like all the others. Pretty, blonde, and, let's see, described by her friends as a very light-hearted girl. Oh, what a pity. Did you ever stop to think who fits that to a tee? In fact, fits all those girls? Why? My own Daisy. Yes. Well, maybe it's a good thing she's with her aunt instead of here. London ain't a safe place for any girl right now. Just the same. I can't help thinking how fine it'll be to have her back. Now, Bunting, you know that Daisy seems just as much my own daughter as she is yours. But I'm telling you, there's no sense even thinking about having her back right now. We just can't afford it. I know that, Ellen. Only, well, maybe we could manage it some way. How? I just crimped myself hard crazy trying to keep us going, but you don't care about that, do you? Oh, no, your Daisy's more important to you than I am. No, no, no, Ellen. That damn time about you. And we haven't had a lodger for months. Nobody even comes to look at the room anymore and, oh, oh, I'm sorry, Robbie. I didn't mean to take on so. Oh, no, Ellen, it's all right. Well, don't you go worrying another second, old girl. First thing you know, you won't be pretty no more. Or you'll have your face all wrinkled in this. Now, see here, Bunting. Oh, come on, no. Let's see a smile. Come on, come on, just one. Oh, leave me alone. I won't care. Oh, get on with you. Now, who do you suppose that could be? Oh, for late for visitors. I, Bunting. Do you think it could be somebody looking for rooms? Yes. It might be. You want me to go to the door? No, no, no, I'll go. You just stay in here. And I'll be sure to get a good look at who it is before you let him in, dear. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, down there. I'm coming. I do hope that it's... Yes, sir? Is it not true that you let lodgings? Yes, sir. Won't you come in, sir? Thank you. Could I take your cape, sir? There's no need. Now, I am just looking for a quiet room. It must be quiet. Oh, we have that, sir. Above all, our house is quiet. You know, I'm afraid that you'll be afraid of the noise. Your bag, sir. May I take it? No. I'll hold it. If you'll be so good as to show me the room, please. Oh, yes. Yes, sir. It's right up these stairs, sir. This way. Thank you. You see, sir, there's just my husband and me here. And we're ever so quiet. And I'm sure you'll find this room to your liking, sir. Here we are. Now, I'll just light the gas. There. Very good. It is pleasant, isn't it, sir? And there's not many rooms with such pretty pictures, are there, now? We have had them in the family for years, sir. Pictures interest me very little. You see, what really impresses me about the room is the very simplicity of it. The bareness. Yes, sir. It's not at all crowded, is it? It will be quite suitable, Mrs. Bunting, sir. Mrs. Bunting. You see, I do a great deal of reading in my book here. The Holy Bible. Yes, sir. And please, let me help you with your luggage. No. Don't touch it. But I only wish... You only wish to help, of course. You must forgive me, Mrs. Bunting. It's just that I'm so very weary. Of course, sir. He bringeth them to their desired haven. Beautiful words, Mrs. Bunting. Indeed they are, sir. And now at last, I have found my haven of rest. Yes, sir. Then you'll be taking the room. Yes. I shall pay you thirty shillings a week. This is satisfactory. Thirty? Why? Yes, sir. Yes, sir. That will be quite all right. Good. My name is Sleuth, Mrs. Bunting. Mr. Sleuth. S-L-E-U-T-H. Think of a hound, Mrs. Bunting. And you'll never forget my name. Twenty-three. Four. Thirty. Thirty shillings. Thank you, sir. And would you be wishing anything now? A supper? Tea? Nothing. Thank you. Good night, sir. Good night, Mrs. Bunting. You have... Stop it! Oh! Yes, sir. What did I do? That song you were humming. That music. But I... Music, Mrs. Bunting, save that expressing the majesty of God, is an accompaniment for a reverent gaiety and an instrument of sin. Yes, sir. And you... You assured me your dwelling was quiet. But it is, sir. Believe me, sir. I didn't mean any harm. Of course, of course. I'm sorry, Mrs. Bunting. I fear I spoke sharply. I don't wish you to think me rude. After all, you have been so kind, so considerate. I hope I know a gentleman when I see one. Thank you. Thank you very much. And on second thought, perhaps a bit of bread and butter would be pleasant. Bread and butter? Certainly, sir. I'll have it in an instant. Ellen! Ellen! Did he take the room? He'll come into the kitchen where he won't hear us. Ellen! He took it! He took the room! Yes, Robbie. We're all right now. Look. Thirty shillings a week in advance. Oh, it's wonderful, wonderful! Ellen, do you see what this means? Yes, you can have Daisy now. Here, Bunting, hand me that dish. Right. You know something, old girl? We're not going to worry too much about Daisy being in danger of that Avenger fellow. Whatever do you mean, Robbie? Well, she's not one for dancing, you know, or any kind of like entertainment. What's that to do with it, please? Something I read here in the paper. While you was with the gentleman. They found out that every one of the Avengers victims had just come from a dancing party or a musical. What a peculiar chap. Now hurry, Bunting, please. Two thoughts. Two thoughts only governed Ellen's mind. The lodgers light supper and her own good fortune at having such a lodger. She started up the staircase to his room. Oh! She hath cast down many wounded from her. Yea, many strong men have been slain by her. Come in. And to know the wickedness of folly... Why, why, Mr. Yes, what is it? Those pictures, those pretty girls. You've turned all their faces to the wall. And that maneuver, that strange action was the beginning of Ellen's concern. The day following, the lodger did not leave the upstairs room once, nor did he leave the next day. And the oddness of this occurred to her. And the approaching arrival of the Avengers was the last thing that occurred to her. And the approaching arrival of Daisy, her stepdaughter, added to her concern. On the second night, her sleep was restless with vague, disturbing images. And so when she heard the first stealthy footsteps outside her bed, she was instantly awake. Oh! Tensely, she followed those steps down the stairs, down the hallway. She heard the front door open, and then click shut. But her stillness fell upon the house. And outside the streets were so silent she could hear distinctly the clock from a church tower a mile away, toll the hour. In her troubled fancy, she pictured a long figure plodding through the deep fog, moving quietly, stealthily, searching, stalking, finding... When soon after she heard the lodger return, she sought to quiet the horrible dread which had possessed her. But for Ellen, there was no more sleep, merely a tormented state of half-consciousness, which suddenly dropped from her soon after dawn. Horrible murder! Horrible murder! That was the piercing scream of a newsboy far down the street. The Avengers strike during the night! Ellen Bunting heard the boy cry out the Avengers' latest stroke, made during the night. No! No! Extra special horrible murder at King's Cross! Avengers take six victims special! Avengers at work again! And the blood became of nine! Avengers strikes again! Avengers! Horrible murder! Avengers! Avengers! Avengers! Avengers! Ellen's first glimpse that morning of the grey-faced lodger brought the sleepless night's terror full to the surface. But on the next instant, she saw the pitiable helpless weariness in his eyes, and curiously, the terror began to pass. She found that she was hoping desperately that her fears were unfounded. To lose thirty shillings a week, perhaps because of a mistake? No! She must be certain, certain! Before she spoke to a soul. She knew that there was one thing she must examine, the lodger's single piece of luggage. What could it hold? Not much in the way of clothing, surely. It was too small, too narrow. It was more like a case. A case. For a knife. It was almost noon before Ellen found her opportunity to search the lodger's room. Soon after bunting left to meet Daisy, Ellen watched the tall, thin figure in the black, invinous cape disappear down the street. And then, she rushed upstairs, and into the room. Quickly, she moved to the closet. It was no different than it had always been, utterly empty. She went then to the chest of drawers against the wall. She opened the top drawer, and found nothing inside, but a frayed shirt, two handkerchiefs. The next drawer, underclothes, socks, the next, empty. There remained then, only one possible place for the small, narrow bag. The bottom drawer. And it was locked. Tugging at the drawer, she heard suddenly the opening of the front door downstairs. Panic-stricken, she rushed out of the room and down the hall to the head of the stairs. You're upstairs, Ellen. Look, look, Ellen! Daisy's here! It's so good to see you, and what, what ever's the matter? Yes, you've gone quite wide. Oh, well, I'm alright. I wasn't expecting you so soon. Oh, you don't know how fine it is to be back again, Mother Ellen. The country's alright in its way, but there's nothing like London now, is there? No, no there isn't. Well, as long as that avenge is about, I can see we're going to have to do something to keep this young lady indoors, London or no London. Don't you worry, Mother Ellen will see to that. Well, Daisy, I might as well get you settled. Oh, you see, Father, what I'd tell you. She'll have a dust cloth in my hand before I got time to take my coat off. Mr. Sleuth. Mrs. Bunting, I see my door is open. We were just leaving, Sir. Does this mean that all of you have been in my room? Oh, not all, Sir. What must I do? Keep it locked? But you see, Sir, I, I was just tidying up a bit, and Mr. Bunting, he, he brought his daughter up, Sir. She's just arrived. Oh, I see. This is Daisy, Sir. Pleased to meet you, Sir. She's been away for quite a long while, you see, Mr. Sleuth, and that's why we're a bit excited, you might say. Yes, you must have been surprised when you came in, hearing us laughing and carrying on that way. Yes, yes, I must say I was. However, Miss Daisy, there are all types of joy, are there not? Yes, I'm sure there are. But that's not all, is it? Yes, I'm sure there are. But that's not all, is it? Yes, I'm sure there are. The despicable evil joy of the abandoned, and the divine happiness of the blessed. A vast difference, that. You do understand me, don't you? Why, yes, Sir. Yes, Mr. Sleuth. I devoutly hope so, Miss Daisy. Nowadays, there are so very few young women like yourself, who do. All women are placed on this earth filled with evil. They therefore must struggle constantly to find the paths of righteousness. Why, Mr. Sleuth, you mean a girl's not to enjoy life at all? Not to have fun? Frivolity, my child, is the devil's breeding ground. All his implements are there. Pleasure, impropriety, the temptation of music, dancing. Oh, that's crazy. Why, there's nothing I like better than an evening of dancing. You dance? She didn't know what she was saying, Mr. Sleuth. Just a child. And Daisy, you know you've never been one for dancing. You never even learned to dance. But I did learn, Mother Ellen, while I was away. And what's so wrong about it? What's the harm in just a nice dance? She lieth in waiters for a prey, and increaseth the transgressors among men. I don't know what you mean. I never heard such nonsense. You call holy scripture nonsense? So, what I prayed against is true. You are beyond salvation. That's not so. I'm a good girl, I'm, and I won't have you saying that. Daisy, Daisy, go into the front room. I'm going to the bathroom. Daisy, go into the front room. It's quite all right, Mrs. Bunting. I must be going upstairs anyway. I'm used to being misunderstood, you know. People never realize that my efforts are simply for the greater good of humanity. Of course, sir. And that the power on high will direct my hand toward the expulsion of all evil. Beautiful words. Beautiful words. And that the power on high will direct my hand toward the expulsion of all evil. Beautiful words. Beautiful words. Beautiful words. Beautiful words. Beautiful words. Beautiful words. Beautiful words. Beautiful words. I'm going to the bathroom. Daisy, Daisy, listen to me. Yes? I've got to tell you about, about... About what, Mother Ellen? Nothing. I've got to go out for a while. I'll be back. At that moment, Ellen had been determined to pour out her terrible suspicions. But she paused on the very brink. After all, they were still only suspicions. A sudden inspiration had come to her. That very day, a coroner's inquest was being held into the last Avenger murder. She would go there now, this very instant. And perhaps she would hear evidence to disprove all her fears about the lodger. She must give him this last chance. If that chance should fail, then she would tell Bunting or the police. So with the knowledge that Bunting was left in the house to look after Daisy, she boarded the underground train bound for the coroner's court. Ellen, seated at the rear of the inquest room, listened to each of the witnesses and heard the voices of the other witnesses. She was very happy. She was very happy. Ellen, seated at the rear of the inquest room, listened to each of the witnesses and from one of them, she found the first hope she had known for many days. This witness claimed to have seen the Avenger from her window. And the man she described in no way resembled Ellen's lodger. But in another moment, Ellen's hope was swept away. It was pointed out that the fog had been so heavy that night that the witness could not possibly have seen the murderer from her window. The next witness was a Mr. Cannot. This elderly gentleman was certain that he had not only seen but talked with the Avenger. It was in Regions Park, he testified, only a few moments before the murder, Mr. Coroner, when I saw him. He was quite a tall man, very gaunt looking, and carrying a handbag. A handbag, you say? Yes, a small, narrow one. Just such a bag I might add as might contain a knife. A knife? He had rather an eye-hesitating voice, an educated man I should judge, but quite mad. What do you mean by that? Well, as he emerged from the fog, he was talking aloud to himself. And believe me, sir, he was reciting scriptures from the Bible. Scriptures from the Bible. Horrified, Ellen rose from her seat, only half hearing the confusion about her. Are you asking us to believe that? I would say, Mr. Cannot, that the man we're looking for would be least of all a religious man. That's where you're in error, Mr. Coroner. The religious note is the very key to the case. Very interesting. That will be all, Mr. Cannot. Just a moment, sir, don't you understand? The man you're after must be a religious maniac. That's the only explanation possible. You will please step down. The court was dismissing the very truth. Ellen knew that now. She could no longer keep silent. Her hands shot forth and she screamed. I want to say, I...no. On the verge of speaking, she had fainted. And then when Ellen was revived a few minutes later, she said nothing. Her brain was in too great a turmoil, her nerves too shocked. Like one in a dream, she allowed herself to be led from the courtroom. And then she made her way toward the underground. A faint distant rumble of thunder never even reached her consciousness. And she was barely aware of the grind of the wheels as her train pulled away from the station. Then with the force of a mighty blow, the full realization struck her. No doubt, no doubt any longer, Mr. Sleuth, her own lodger, was the murderer. He was the avenger. The avenger. The avenger. The avenger. On the street again, Ellen knew she must go at once to her neighborhood police. And there pour out her terrible knowledge. But with each moving footstep, with each heavier boom of thunder from the rainstorm that was almost there, the grip of terror grew tighter and tighter about her. She moved faster, faster. If only she were in time. The first light drops of rain sprinkled her brows. She came within two stops. She was on her way to the station. If only she were in time. The first light drops of rain sprinkled her brows. She came within two streets of home. Then she was one street away. Then she saw Bunting. Sharply, like the thrust of a knife, the one fact pierced her mind. Daisy was now alone with the lodger. Bunting! Bunting! Why, Ellen. Ellen, what is it? Tell me, Bunting, where's Daisy? Where is she, I say? Listen to me. Try to understand. Sleuth is the Avenger. What? What are you saying? Our lodger. He's the Avenger, Bunting. Daisy's in danger. Hurry! Yes, yes. Daisy! Daisy! Here we are, Bunting. Daisy! Daisy! Daisy! Where are you? I'll look in the kitchen, Bunting. You try the sitting room. Daisy! Daisy! Where are you, Daisy? Daisy! Daisy! Where are you, Daisy? Daisy! Daisy! Where are you, Daisy? Daisy! Daisy! Here, let's try the bedroom. She's not there. What about the dining room? I looked. She's not there. She's not downstairs. Then there's just his room. If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. And now hear me, O Lord. Daisy! I have not forgotten. I am ready. The knife! He's got the knife! Ready to smite thine enemy. For man born of woman is born unto trouble. And I shall cleanse thy kingdom on earth. Yea, I shall show her thy wrath from heaven. No! Stop! Speak, O Lord! Daisy! Speak, O Lord! I am ready. The power on high will direct the expulsion of evil. Yes, yes, O Lord! I serve at parrots! And I... He's... He's... He's dead. Daisy! Come to me, Daisy! Oh, thank heaven! Yes, thank heaven! Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. And his word burned like a pillar of fire. Death by act of God. Thus the final entry in Scotland Yard's record of the famous Avenger case. Yet, curiously enough, there were those at the yard who were never quite sure, never entirely convinced that Mr. Sleuth was indeed the Avenger, any more than Mrs. Bellic-Lounds, who novelized the case, was convinced. There are those who will tell you that the real Avenger, a tall man clad in black, a man almost exactly like Mr. Sleuth, left England and came to America to live in a town, near yours. He would be quite old now, but it may be true. Yes, perhaps, as it is written in Holy Scripture, he did. Fly upon the wings of the wind to walk as a stranger in many lands. Hast thou found me, O mine enemy? Beautiful words, those beautiful words. Don't you think? And so closes The Larger, starring Robert Montgomery. Tonight's study in Suspense. Suspense is produced, edited, and directed by William Spear. In everything she says about enjoying Roma wine when entertaining and with everyday meals, Miss Elsa Maxwell holds out for simplicity and common sense. I've often been a guest in great homes abroad, where enjoyment of good wines is as much a part of life as eating. And I tell you, the kind of glasses in which you serve your Roma wine is completely unimportant. Just use any glasses you have. Serve whatever Roma wine you like, with whatever food you prefer. That is smart, simple, and always a delight. The important thing, Miss Maxwell says, is to have Roma wine and enjoy it regularly. Roma wines are California's finest, always extra good, unvaryingly fine in flavor and quality, yet only pennies a glass. So don't miss this simple, easy, enjoyable addition to daily living. Remember, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wines. Robert Montgomery appeared through the courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, to whose studios he has just returned, having been ordered to inactive duty after three and a half years' service with the United States Navy. He will shortly begin work on the production, They Were Expendable. Next Thursday, same time, you will hear a radio play based on the RKO picture, The Brighton Strangler, with Mr. John Loder and Miss June Dupre, as your stars of suspense. Presented by Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. The RKO is a production of the U.S. Department of State.
