Good evening, this is Peter Lawrence. Welcome to another performance dedicated to the shadier side of life, the mysterious, the criminal, the oftentimes murderous side of life. Oh, please understand that this is not that life can be beautiful or love thy neighbor. Oh, no, no, no, my friends, this is the mystery playhouse. There is probably no stranger, no more unexplainable source of mystery than the human mind itself. It twists and turns sometimes in labyrinthine confusion and often becomes the victim of grim and horrible obsession. An obsession that has no relationship to the life surrounding it, but one that is very real to him who is obsessed. Listen. I am the whistler and I know many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales, many secrets hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which I dare not speak. Professor Arthur Rugby had a theory. Professor Rugby is a psychologist and Mitch is his theory. I contend that a person who has decided to kill himself can very easily be turned from this desire to the desire of taking the life of another. I can prove my theory if necessary. That is what I will do. Do you agree? Do you believe that if you were about to commit suicide, you could be swayed from your purpose and become a murderer? Professor Rugby thinks so. But he's just made this strange statement to his publisher, Mr. Hellman. Hellman glances at the manuscript and smiles. The professor leans forward and asks, Well, Hellman, what do you think? It's purely conjecture, simply a theory, and I wouldn't advise publishing it. But I've worked on it for a long time and it will work. Good, good of your accomplishment. You can prove it. It's negative. It's not negative, it's positive. I know it. It's so silly, fancy, an ordinary human being is suffered with verses. It's sick of it all. He wants to leave it all behind him, and you say he can be changed to want to kill somebody else. I do. Self-destruction and the destruction of other life are closely related in the mind. It's like, well, a hair's breadth, the dividing line is infinitesimal. It's ridiculous. You want publishing? Danger would fire me. Why? He told me that if you came in here with any more silly ideas like the last one to tell you that you're no more of a psychologist than he is, that in his opinion you should be in the asylum. Mr. Granger didn't say that. It's you who think I'm crazy. You've never liked me. But some leases are trying to tear me down. Well, we'll see, Mr. Hellman, we'll see. Wait a minute. I'll show you whether my work's illogical. I'll show you. Oh, calm down. I'm going to make you read those words. I'm going to prove my theory, and then I'll bring it to a conclusion, and you'll know that my theory sounds. Good night. The Last Supper Professor Rugsy, eating with resentment, rushes from the office, stridangularly down the street, muttering to himself, and goes home late for dinner. He receives a note from his wife, Myra, saying he's decided to go to the opera and will be home around 11.30. Then he gets an inspiration. He will find a subject for his experiment. So he goes to the bridge over the deep canyon. The bridge calls suicide. And strangely enough, he hasn't longed to wait. As he stands against the railing in the fog, a figure appears a few feet beyond, setting the distance below. Wait a minute. That's very silly. You told me. Oh, no, I couldn't do that. I need you. Get away. Look, it's 500 feet to those tracks below. Hard steel rails. I don't believe what you heard about not knowing what happened. Let loose. People don't always die instantly. They live in agony for minutes and sometimes for hours. A horrible death, I know. How do you know? I'm a doctor. Doctor? Yes. I can tell you much simpler ways, much less painful ways, and quicker. You're a nice looking girl, an intelligent girl. Maybe after I've talked to you a while, you wouldn't want to do this at all. No. Maybe a few minutes talk will change the entire picture for you. What could you do to help me? There's a motive back of you wanting to do this, and I'd like to know what it is. Nothing to do with it. How about you? Any relatives? Any loved ones you'd like to do something for? Yes. If you'll talk with me for a while, maybe I can find a way to help. You sound crazy to me. Oh, no. I may be many things, but I'm not crazy. All right, I'll talk to you. Where? My apartment. My apartment. I might have known. No, no, no, I'm serious. I really want to talk to you. All right, I'll take it. Now, first, you know that you're a very pretty girl, don't you? Yeah, that doesn't always mean so much. You're the right man, it might. That's what I thought. I found out it didn't mean a thing. And it was because of the man. I knew it. Really? How did you guess? I'm a student of psychology. Student? You're a little past student days, aren't you? No, I don't write anything. I write subjects on psychology. Professor Arthur Rubsky. I see. You want to know what makes me tick. You want to know the reason behind my actions tonight. That's right. I'd like to know what happened to make you want to kill yourself. Suicide is a mental aberration, you know. I'd like to know what preceded the decision to destroy yourself. And also, what you thought. Up until that moment, I stopped you on a break. What good will that do me? You told me you were not broke. But also you said you had some loved ones you'd like to do something for. I meant I wasn't broke to the point of being hungry. I had a few dollars. But you suggested help to someone in larger times. Yes, yes I did. Who was the loved one? My mother. You were her only means of support? You intend to kill yourself? Yes. That's being selfish, isn't it? Selfish? Yes, you're concentrating solely on self. Thanks, sir. What else? The first law of human nature is self-preservation, right? Of course. And the second law is the preservation of family. Yes. So you decide to deny the first law and you destroy yourself. And as a consequence, you deny the second. You leave your mother alone and she needs you. You indicate a form of insanity. What would be normal? To destroy the other person. The one who has done you wrong. Destroy him instead of yourself. Have you hurt him? No. But he has hurt you, hurt you deeply. He's done the wrong, correct? Yes. Then the one who's done the wrong should be the one to suffer. You have no legal record. None, I'm sorry. I guess you could kill yourself and let your poor mother suffer because of the wrong of another. Why shouldn't he be the one to suffer? You're right. Why shouldn't he? What happened? Why not tell me about it? Were you married? No. You never seem to find time to get around a marriage. Oh. What's your name? Gladys. Gladys Hannah. How long have you known him? Almost four years. Have you always thought he meant to marry? Yes. Until? Until three weeks ago. On July 1st he had to leave town for a week on business. But he was going to Kansas City. When he came back he seemed too busy to see me. And a week ago I found a snapshot along with several others in a desk at his home. May I see it? Certainly. The picture's of a woman and another woman. But the picture was not taken in Kansas City. No? It was taken in the beach at Atlantic City. And it's dated by the finish of July 3rd. Since he's returned he's refused to see me. And yesterday he finally said he didn't care to see me anymore. I'd better forget him. It isn't so easy is that, is it? No. I figured I'd done something. I blame myself. Do you know the brown woman in the snapshot? No. There must be a woman he has met recently. You've known him for five years. I don't think you ought to blame. He's the one who's in the war. And he should be made to suffer. Huh? Were you ever going to kill yourself? Why should you? Kill him instead. He's never crossed you. He deserves it. Let me go a little deeper into the situation. Whenever a person has reached a conclusion... Are you sure you've made up your mind, Miss Daly? Positive. Now, if you're careful you won't be caught. But whether you are or not, I'm giving you this check for a thousand dollars. Made out of cash. To be sent to your mother only after the man's dead. Uh, write his name on this, Pat. There you are. Now, I don't know what's happened with the newspapers. I'll withhold payments until I've earned it. You've gone through with it. It'll happen tonight. Very well. Are you... are you sure you're determined? Absolutely. Nothing could stop me. Now, I'll tell you my reason for this. I'm a psychiatrist. I've got a theory that a person bent on suicide... was akin mentally to a person bent on murder. And that the difference between the two was so slight... that the suicidal desire could easily be changed to the homicidal desire. And that's what's happened to me? Exactly. Well, now that I know what you're getting at... I suppose I'll change my mind again. Yeah, you want. I know. Here's a small revolver. It'll fit easily into your press. All you need is to wipe your fingerprints off and leave your gun near the body. Well, goodbye, Dr. Rookley. Goodbye, Gladys. And good luck. And so Gladys leaves Brugsby and starts off to the house of her victim... on the outskirts of town. Brugsby stands for a while lost in thought. Then takes his hat, steps into the street... and 20 minutes later he stops his car a block from Hellman's bungalow. Remember Hellman? The editor who ridiculed the professor's theory? Oh. Hello, Brugsby. Good evening, Hellman. I thought I'd drop out and have a little chat with you. Why this time of night? Eleven. Didn't think I was late for you. Oh. Come in. What's on your mind? I... I wanted to talk to you about my theory you ridiculed so definitely. My theory about suicide. Oh. Well, I... I bet I'd prove it, didn't I? Yeah, but what are you getting at? It's going to be proved. My theory's going to be proved tonight. Well, go ahead and prove it. It isn't funny, Hellman. No? I don't know where you can prove anything like that. What good will that do you? More than you'll ever know. I don't like you, Hellman. I never liked you. And I know you don't like me. I can't help that, Brugsby. What are you staring at? Is there someone here with you? Certainly not. That woman at the press room at Avento. Huh? Well, I... my secretary dropped by earlier this evening with the manuscript. She must have forgotten. She's not here now. Of course not. Well, I'll continue. I found the subject. A girl who was ready to commit suicide because a man had tossed her over for another woman. In a few hours, I was successful in changing her thoughts from suicide to homicide. And she's going to kill the man tonight. What do you think of that? There may be a dozen murders tonight. Ah, but you'll know which one I mean. You'll know about this murder. What do you mean? Because I'm going to tell who the victim's going to be. If you know who the intended victim is, why don't you stop it? But I wouldn't have proved my theory. You put the girl up to it. I'm sane, Brugsby. You think so, Hellman? No sane man would ever think of such a useful sense of society. If I haven't said, stop laughing! I'm thinking about the victim. What he learned. Who is the victim? Morton Hellman. What? Yes, you! Who is the girl? I know of no girl who'd want to kill me. Well, this one does. No. I wouldn't put it past you to hire somebody due to something like this. No, no, this girl's no fake. This girl's serious. Deadly serious. Who is she? I don't know. You're the only one I know who doesn't like me. You're the only one I know with a motive. But believe me, Brugsby, you'll not get away with it. You've probably hypnotized some poor woman, figuring she'd never remember what happened. Oh, Hellman, you underestimate me. Maybe I do underestimate your evil mind, but believe me... Put your hands up, that one. Get away from that. Just take care of your gun, Hellman. You know, when did you start killing a gun, Brugsby? What? A gun? Don't be silly. This isn't a gun in my pocket. It's off my pipe. See? What do you hear, Hellman? Nothing. Oh, I heard it too. Sound on the porch. Well, I leave now. Back way. I'll put your gun in the kitchen. You look so anxious. I'll be very careful to remove all the fingerprints. You insane fool! Fancy. You. You, Hellman. You're going to help prove my theory. Good night. Crazy devil. I'll have him locked up before he gets across town. Good evening, Mr. Hellman. What? How did you get in here? Through the patio door. What do you want? I wanted to talk to you. You sure that you're not under the influence of someone? What a strange question. What do you mean? A crazy professor. You've been hypnotized. You're just imagining things. And what are you doing here? I wanted to tell you something. Yeah? What? When you first indicated to me that you were through with me, I was terribly hurt. I thought all along that we were going to be married. I couldn't understand. I tried and tried to think of something I'd done to cause our breakup. I happened to find a snapshot in your desk. Snapshot? Take a look at it. Kansas City? No. Atlantic City, New Jersey. You and a blonde. And the date is stamped on the back. Business trip. Well, what about it? I just wanted you to know that you weren't so slick. I wanted you to know that I knew about the blonde. That I knew you'd lied. Now that you've told me, what good is it to you? A lot of good. At first I thought you came here intending to kill me. Well, goodbye Morton. And good luck in your new venture. Thanks. What venture? This one. Gladys. Gladys. And wish me luck. Wish me luck. And mine. And Gladys stands staring for a moment at the party. Then she wipes out the gun, drops it to the floor, takes the professor's check from her purse, steps to Hellman's desk, takes pen and paper, calmly writes a note, puts it with the check into an envelope, addresses it, turns out the lights and steps quickly out the door and down the street. At the corner she pauses, drops the envelope in the mailbox, and disappears. Well, Professor Ruggsby, there you are. You heard the shock. The perfect crime. You can go home now and go to sleep. Mara. Mara. Oh, Mara. I'm here. What are you doing asleep on the Davenport? You know what time it is? Must be afternoon and night. I've been waiting for you. Where have you been? Well, I walked along downtown for a while. I got into the club for a nightcap. How's the opera? Oh, fair. Nothing to brag about. Who sang the lead? Bill Chiaffi. He wasn't very good. Bill Chiaffi? No. He's a poor old fellow. A fellow? I thought they were doing eye-eater tonight. No. They switched because someone was ill. I get to stay and stay at home. Good. Have a nightcap, Mara? No, thanks. I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed. I'll be along, Quirtle. Good night. Good night. Well, Professor, it's been a great day. A triumph for you. Your theory proved and nothing to be traced to you. Now one perfect crime. He sits over his drink for a while, then turns out the lights and goes to bed. The night passes and morning comes. The professor rises cheerfully and prepares for breakfast. Now, get in, Mara. Yes? Are you Professor Rutley? Yes. May I come in? I'd like to talk with you. Oh, of course. What is it? Is your wife in? Yes. I'd like to see her, too. Who are you? I'm Lieutenant Davis, detective headquarters. What? What do you want? Will you call your wife? Oh, why, certainly. Mara, what's this all about? What is it, Arthur? This is Lieutenant Davis from detective headquarters. He says he wants to talk to us. Really? Well, about? May I ask where you were last night, Mrs. Leslie? Why, certainly. I went to the opera. What time did you get home? Well, I imagine it was around 11 or shortly after. Were you at home last evening, Professor? Well, I was at the club and got home about 12.30. What's this all about? Do you know Morton Hellman? Certainly. What about him? He's been murdered. Really? Good Lord, when? Around midnight, last night. They found him this morning. How terrible. I've known him for years. He was editor-in-chief of the company, probably through my writings. I'm a psychologist, you know. Yes, I know. But what do you want to know from us? Well, we weren't connected socially with Hellman. Just a business. Did you know him, Mrs. Rugby? Yes, yes, I knew him, very slightly. Do either of you know of anyone who'd have reason to kill him? Certainly not. Everyone thought highly of him. Did you ever hear of a girl named Gladys Tanner? Gladys Tanner? No. Did you know of a Gladys Tanner, Mrs. Rugby? No. Who is she? She went with Hellman for several years. They were supposed to be engaged. For some reason it blew up because of another woman. For what? Is this your person, Mrs. Rugby? Well, of course it is. That's the one I gave you last Christmas, my heart. Oh, yes. I must have left it downtown. Where did you find this, Mr. Rugby? At Hellman's home. Hellman's home? How in the world did it happen? But how? We found it on the sofa. I can't imagine how it could get there. And this is the revolver that killed Hellman. Found on the floor beside him. No fingerprints on it, however. Oh, my. May I have it? Why, Myra, this is your gun. I bought this for you two years ago when I went away on that lecture tour. Yes, I think it's mine, but it just doesn't make sense. Did you have the gun in your purse when you lost it last night? Perhaps I did. I'm so confused now. I can't believe it. Well, think, Myra, think. This is terrible. I know, I know. Oh, dear. I feel ill. Did you ever fire this gun? Yes. Once last year up in the mountains. I wanted to see how it worked. Ever reloaded? Why, no, I didn't. When did you see it live? Oh, yesterday. And you've never reloaded it? No, I've never reloaded it. Just didn't think about it. Maybe I did put it in my purse. I don't know. And whoever found the purse may have used the gun to... What? I just can't seem to think. This gun misfired on the first two shots. The other three killed Hellman. This is the most amazing piece of coincidence I've ever heard. Why would my wife want to do such a thing? Why should she go to Hellman? She hardly knew him. Are you sure about that, Professor? Of course I'm sure. Well, I'm sorry to say I think she's lying. What? Oh, this is ridiculous. This is going to be a shock to you, Professor, but... Here is a snapshot we found on Hellman's desk. Taken in Atlantic City last July. Good heavens. Why, this is you, Mara. You and Hellman. You were tremendous in Florida in July. Mara. Mara, look at me. What is this? I can't, I can't. I can't believe such a thing. It just doesn't seem possible. May I have the purse and the gun and photo? Thanks. I'm sorry, but I'll have to take her down to headquarters. I didn't kill him, I didn't. I wouldn't, I loved him. You'd better put yourself together, Mara. You'll have to go with him. Yes, we want photos and fingerprints. Better get ready, Mara. I can't do it. Certainly looks bad for her. I'm afraid it does. Looks like an open and shut case to me. Will you come along too, Professor? Why? Certainly. Now it's several hours later at police headquarters. They've taken fingerprints of Professor Rugby and his wife, Mara, and questioned them both. And Rugby is just about to leave with a gloating smile on his face when an officer steps in and speaks softly to Lieutenant Davis. Lieutenant. Yes, Ragan. I stayed at Professor Rugby's place, as you said. Look things over. A few minutes ago, this special delivery letter came for the professor. This will knock your eye out. Read it. Well, I'll be. This fits perfectly with the handwriting we were trying to make out on Hellman's blotter. Professor, I'd like you to read a letter sent special delivery to you a few minutes ago. Postmarked last night. Read it. Ah, certainly. Dear Professor Rugby, your theory worked to a certain degree. You convinced me I should kill him, but when that gun you gave me misfired twice, I almost quit. Then as I looked at him on the floor, the old feeling of self-destruction came back. I'm going ahead with my original plan. Here's your checker. I won't need it. Besides, I have a mother. She's dead. Better luck next time, Professor. Gladys Tanner. And Lieutenant, a half hour ago, they found her body beneath Suicide Bridge. Well, it all worked out beautifully for the professor, up to the point where he changed his plan. And that was at the moment that Gladys Tanner showed him the snapshot of Hellman and the blonde girl on the beach at Atlantic City. The professor wasn't really going to let the girl kill Hellman, but when he saw the snapshot and recognized the blonde as his wife Myra, he started to change. And when he visited Hellman before the shooting and recognized his wife Perth, he was doubly determined to see Hellman killed and place the blame on his wife Myra. Yes, it would have been a perfect crime, perhaps, but he sacrificed his theory for revenge. The whole thing backfired and caught him. The girl wished him better luck next time. There won't be a next time, not for the professor. I know. The Professor's Obsession for Scientific Experimentation Well, well, well. It looks like Professor Rudby's Obsession for Scientific Experimentation melted away before the more ordinary urge for revenge. It's supposed to show that we are all human, doesn't it? Or does it? Maybe the Whistler knows the answer to that one, too. Oh, don't go, please. I want you to hear about our next performance at the Mystery Playhouse. Come with me to the Green Room, where I'll tell you how rehearsing. Come. Oh, Robert. Robert, before leaving the theater tonight, someone told me that you and Julie Winthrop are going to be married. Two? Yes, we'll be married in two weeks, right after my wife gets a decree in Reno. You must not marry Julie. Not marry Julie? Oh, who are you to tell me what I can do? I know Julie well enough. I want to know you. That's why you must not marry her. So it might be better for you to mind your own business. Julie and I are in love with each other. No, you're not. She's fascinated by your good looks. She's impressed by your fame, but she does not love you. Now look here. We may be old friends, but after all I'm going to, I... Wait a moment. I get it now. You're in love with her yourself. I? I'm in love with Julie? No, we're just friends. Friends? You're madly in love with her. That's why you came here tonight, isn't it? No. Oh, friends. What? You're laughing. You, in love with a girl like Julie. Why would my love make you laugh? Oh, so you admit it, huh? All right, I do. Why is it so funny? You think she'd have you, you, a clown, ugly, clumsy, you, in love with Julie? And why not? Why not? No. Stop your laughing. Stop it. Can I? Look at yourself. No. Stop. Let go of me. No. You're joking. Let go. I joke, huh? I joke. Laugh. Go ahead. Laugh now. Laugh. Robert. Robert. I didn't mean it. Robert. Lord, what have I done? Mmm. That might be worth listening to. Funny thing, that little man sounds familiar. I must have seen him in pictures. Anyway, the scene you just heard is a mean of sanctum mystery. And we'll be honest before. This is Peter Lloyd closing the doors of the mystery playhouse. Good night. Sleep tight. This is the Armed Forces radio service.
