And now, another tale well calculated to keep you in... Suspense. In a moment, Endgame. Written for Suspense by David Karp. So long! Have a nice trip! Don't forget the phone! Wherever you go this summer, go first by long distance. Room clerk speaking. A double overlooking the water. Well, let's see now. Well, yes sir, we do. May I have your name please? When you're traveling this summer, it makes good sense to use long distance to make your plans. A call ahead is the quick, easy way to get the reservations you want, when you want them. And a call to friends you hope to visit will make sure they're at home when you stop by. Wherever you go this summer, go first by long distance. Rates are low. Why not call now? Music Have you ever been lost at night? Even if you are like myself, a man who isn't easily upset, there is a nightmarish quality in driving down a narrow two-lane country road at night in a wild, pouring rainstorm. I'd been traveling on a turnpike until an hour ago, but I left that too soon, I fear. But there at least I had the sense of reason and order of being in touch with civilization. A civilization which engineered roads for high-speed travel, which provided sensible road stops. But now, for all I knew of where I was going, I could have been traveling on the moon. My name is Charles Ross Victor, age 42, occupation teacher. Where was I going that night? I was on my way to a small Midwestern college to indulge myself in a lifelong passion. Music There was a sign. I slowed the car and stopped. We are now entering Allenbury, where all laws are strictly enforced. Population, 872. Sheriff G. Van Allen. Well, that was plain enough. I switched on the overhead light in the car and searched the map. There was only one thing which wasn't plain. Allenbury simply wasn't on the map. I began to drive more slowly, hoping for the sign of a light at home or a gas station, any place where I might be able to find another human being. And then quite suddenly I saw another human being directly in front of me. Two tons of car were too much to stop in time. I cut the engine, get out of the car and rushed to that pitifully small, sodden heap in the road. It was a man, his arm thrown protectively across his face. I knelt in the storm, sick to my stomach. And then I looked up. There, almost as though it had been mysteriously and luminously painted in glowing colors, I saw a window and a man staring out of the lighted window at me. I rose and hurried to the window and the cold, patrician face which had been watching me disappeared. I went up the porch steps and the door opened suddenly and the man wearing a yellow slicker came to the doorway. I've hit a man with my car. It said nothing. He walked past me into the road. I followed him. He knelt down then beside the body and looked at the face of the man I'd struck down. In the rain his sightless eyes were those of a man in his early fifties, a ruined looking face, but not the face of a brutal or stupid man. Sir, give me a hand. We shouldn't move him until a doctor can see him. The doctor's not going to help him. No, he's not. Sir, give me a hand. All right, far enough. You don't have to be so gentle. Hang up your things over there and give me a driver's lesson. Come on, come on, never mind him. I'm talking to you. I'm sure Van Allen, that sign you passed says what it means. I never had a chance to avoid him. He just walked directly into my path. Sit down, I'll make out the report. Did you see it? I saw it. Where were you going? I was on my way to Lewiston College. I was on my way to the college for a tournament. A chess tournament? Yes. I was supposed to play and speak. You're Victor. You're not Charles Ross Victor. That's right. Well, this is an honor, Charles Ross Victor. I was going to come down to the college to see you play. But you're coming here to my home, why? It's indeed an honor. Thank you. But I'd rather the honor had not happened this way. Oh, Kussberger? Oh, forget it, Mr. Victor. It means nothing. I saw the whole thing. Shouldn't cause you a moment's embarrassment. Here, come over to the fire. You must be chilled to the bone. I'm sorry I didn't realize who you were. Here, sit down here. I have something that will warm you up. A fine Napoleon brandy. I don't generally bring this out, except for my most distinguished visitors. There isn't much of it left in the world. And there isn't much of anything fine left in this world. Here, drink this. I feel awful about the accident, Sheriff. Oh, forget that. It wasn't your fault. It was unavoidable. Cheers. Here's to chess and all who love it. You interested in chess? Interested? I worship it. We can play later on this evening. You don't mind, Sheriff. I don't feel like playing this evening. Tomorrow morning. I don't like to play before a tournament, Sheriff. It does take a lot out of me and I want to keep myself fresh. You must say that's an ungrateful attitude to take, Mr. Victor. Ungrateful? You killed a man and I'm proposing to let you get away with it. The least you can do is to play chess with me. Just a moment. It was an accident. You saw it. You told me you did. You're not letting me get away with anything. I haven't had anyone to play chess with in this town in nearly ten years. I'm sorry about that, Sheriff. Don't be a hypocrite. You're not sorry at all. But you could be made sorry. What? You know, homicide with a vehicle is a very serious crime in this state. You could be sent to prison for life. The Last Suicide It was an accident. An unavoidable accident. You said so yourself. Did I? What do you mean? Of course you did. Perhaps I spoke hastily. After all, the rain is heavy, the visibility poor, and I was looking from a lighted window out into the darkness. I couldn't really swear that the accident was unavoidable. What is this? You can't really conceive what it's like living out your life among swine, among clods and animals. You can't understand what it means to a man like me to have no living soul to talk to. No human being with whom I can communicate, against whom I can pit my skill and brain and passion. I can't understand what you're talking about. You're letting your mind wander to that mongrel you struck down. You and I were men of intelligence. I could be a chess master as you are. If I could leave this place, what's stopping you then? There are certain matters of family pride involved. It's a mean little kingdom, but the king doesn't go elsewhere. Under my grandfather's will, a Van Allen must always live in Allenberry, must always hold a position in the town's government. Oh, I see. A remittance man. The money. I need money. It's a necessary condition to my existence. You could go to work. No, thank you, Mr. Victor. I'm happy with what I do now. What do you want? Play chess with me. If it means that much to you, let's play. Yes, of course. Yeah, I'll just go and get my best board. Oh, I can just picture the evenings ahead for us. Evenings? Yes, of course. You ought to be able to play five or six times a week or more. Aren't those lovely chessmen? I had them sent from Czechoslovakia. You're a leaker. What do you mean? Well, after all, I will be saving you from a life sentence in prison. In exchange for which you want? You live here in Allenberry and play chess with me. You're not serious. You can't be. I've never wanted anything more in my whole life. You'd lie to get that? I'd kill to get that. Doesn't have to be unpleasant. I assure you that you'll be completely comfortable here. We could find you a suitable house servant. If I don't choose to do that? You'll spend your life in prison, Mr. Victor. You're insane. Not noticeably so. Shall we play? I'll take wife. How long would I have to stay here? I don't know. Six months, a year, possibly longer. Possibly the rest of my natural life. I can always hope that you live to a ripe old age. In a moment, we will return for the third act of... Suspense. Now here are Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy. Say Charlie, isn't that your French girlfriend coming into the service department? Yeah Bergen, isn't she a doll? Pardon me monsieur, I don't wish to bother you. Oh, think nothing of it. Beautiful women always bother me. This is my automobile. She has a squeak. Oh, poor thing. It probably needs one of our quality guardian maintenance lubrications. Fantastic. How did you know that? Specialized training, ma'am. Specialized training? Oui. The servicemen at all Chevrolet, Pontiac, Oldsville, Buick, Cadillac, Chevy and GMC truck dealers get special training. That's what makes them guardian maintenance servicemen. They're trained to know your GM product best. You are so wonderful. Oh, I must kiss you. Gladly. Oh la la. How did you learn to kiss like that? Specialized training, ma'am. Van Allen's smile was awful. It was the smile of a madman who knew he had won. I looked away, incapable of returning his stare, glanced towards the poor dead man who had unwittingly thrown me into this hideous trap. Suddenly, my heart leapt. Parker's eyes were opened. He's alive, Van Allen. He's alive. We've got to get a doctor for him. He'll die without help. That's what I'm counting on. I'm going for help. By the time you're back, he'll be dead. I'll see to it the moment you're out the door. It's my move. Go ahead, Mr. Victor. What sort of a man are you, Van Allen? It takes a special breed of man to sit by while a human being bleeds to death. Shall I tell you something about Gus? He used to be a doctor here. Surprised? He was quite the leading town intellectual, the scientist. Gus had a very good eye. He was a very good scientist. Gus had a fatal weakness. He was soft. He was sympathetic. He was kind. Aren't you, Gus? As Val Allen spoke, I watched Berger's eyes. Gus was all right when it came to treating broken legs and running noses. But worse things than that happened to men. It was a young farmhand who was mangled by one of those big reaper thresher machines. That was his name, Peterson. Berger's eyes closed, whether through weakness or remembered pain, I could not tell. Pretty bad sight. So bad, in fact, that Gus couldn't stand it. Took a few drinks to steady his nerves. Tricky job for an objective man of science. The trouble was, Gus wasn't an objective scientist. He was a quivering mass of nerves. It's your move, Mr. Victor. Bishop to Queen Three. You made me lose a temper, Mr. Victor. My congratulations. And what happened to Peterson? I don't think Gus would want me to tell you. Take a look at him, Mr. Victor. There was a big fat tear rolling out of his eyes. He's in pain, Van Allen. Have pity for God's sake. He isn't in pain. He's remembering Peterson. I suppose he still feels sorry for that big dumb farmer. Well, feeling sorry for him is what turned Peterson into a total cripple. Feeling sorry for others is what took the spine out of Dr. August Berger. I hate you, Van Allen. Nothing wrong with hate. It's your move. Queen to Rook Five. Very good. Very good indeed. I see you've come by your claim to being a master, honestly. I'll play you for his life. Right now. You're in a powerful position. Reverse the board, then. I'll take the white. No. Chess should never be played for stakes. It corrupts the purity of the game. And if there's anything I detest, it's the corruption of what should be pure. That thing lying there to his side is corruption. Corruption of a man who should have been pure, untouched by the stickier, sloppier emotions. Like compassion? Your move, Mr. Victor. Queen to Rook Six. Moving rather quickly, aren't you? I intend to finish you off quickly. You can try. Your move, Van Allen. Well, I think I'll just take that knight. Your move. Could you continue playing me for the rest of your life, knowing I hated you? That I detested you? Hate is a purifying agent. It cleanses. Don't you know that? No, Van Allen. You're wrong. Hate never purified anything. But you've taught me hate. Good. We'll make our games all the keener. If you let Berger die, I'll kill you for the first chance I have. I'd like to believe that. But I don't. You're incapable of killing anyone. Because you care about Gus. You love him. You hear that, Gus? He loves you. He loves your immortal soul. I promise you, Dr. Berger, I will. I'll kill him for what he's done to you. That's very generous of him, Gus, isn't it? Willing to throw his life away in mine, too, just to avenge you. As if you were worth avenging. That ought to make you die happily, Gus, shouldn't it? You and I know differently. You aren't worth the dirt they'll cover you with. Your move, Mr. Victor. I'll take the bishop. Take it and welcome to it. I didn't think you'd fall into that trap, Mr. Victor. Surprised you, didn't I? I'll concede. No, you won't. You'll play it out to the end of the bitter end. Gus, you've given me a lifetime partner. You've never done anything in your life worth anything. But you have done this much for me. Thank you, Gus. Thank you for getting yourself killed. Your move, Mr. Victor. Wait a minute. I believe Gus is actually trying to talk. Now, what dying words of wisdom can we get from this corpse? What is it, Gus? I'll tell him. Beat me? You want him to beat me? He can't, Gus. He's losing now. He's lost now. Just as you are. Now, Mr. Victor, I believe it was your move. I'll beat him, Dr. Berger. I swear to you I will. I'll beat him. I concentrated then, driving out hatred, driving out any thought of the position in which I had found myself. I made up my mind to win. Van Allen's game was good. Good enough to get him into first-ranked tournament play. But like all pathological players, he was too anxious for the kill. And once he had sent it victory, he pressed his attack without any thought to defensive positions. Check. King to rook square. Check. It's the end, Victor. Another move at two and it's the end. Van Allen was totally absorbed in the play, and so didn't notice what I did. That Dr. Berger, painfully with terrible slowness, had risen to his knees and into his feet. He moved very slowly towards us. Now he was close enough for me to hear his breathing. And then he threw his arms up. You lose, Van Allen. You flank! You've ruined my game! No, Van Allen! Don't! You ruined it! You always were a bad chess player. And a good shot. It was Winnie. He ruined it. No, Van Allen. You ruined it. I didn't. I was Winnie. Remember the board as it was before Berger upset it. Do you remember it? Yes. Yes, I remember it. It was my move. And my move is bishop to queen two. Do you see it? Bishop to queen two. Yes, I see it. Check and mate. You lost, Van Allen. Hey, sure. You know what happened to the driver of that car outside? We've been looking for him for the last half hour. He went past the toll booth without paying. Hey, what's going on? Come right in, officer. The sheriff has just murdered a man who would have died anyway. But he couldn't wait. The sheriff? I lost. You better give me that gun, Van. I lost. In more ways than one, Van Allen, and for a terrible reason. You didn't know how to wait. Berger knew that you didn't know how to wait. So he picked himself up with his last dying will to make you kill him, which is exactly what you did. And a player who does what his opponent wants him to do can never win. He was right. You're a good shot, but a bad chess player. Suspense. You've been listening to End Game, written for suspense by David Karp. In a moment, the names of our players and a word about next week's story of suspense. Hi. Maybe you'll recall this tuneful reminder of times past. Hmm. This is Dennis James with something else worth remembering. It's this. You're so right to stay regular with Kellogg's All Brand. See, it's the normal natural way to youthful regularity. The whole brand content of Kellogg's All Brand supplies your system with all the bulk-forming food that you need every day. There's only one All Brand. It's Kellogg's All Brand. So relieve irregularity from lack of bulk, as millions do, with a bowlful of Kellogg's All Brand each morning. A double L hyphen B-R-A-S-E. Double L hyphen B-R-A-N. It's Kellogg's All Brand. Heard in tonight's story were Michael Cain as Victor, Santos Ortega as Van Allen, Jack Arthur as Berger, and Alan Manson as the Trooper. Listen again next week when we return with Big Dive by John West. Another tale well calculated to keep you in. Suspense. The Kingston Trio next, followed by latest CBS News and Have Gun, will travel on CBS Radio.
