Suspense.
This is the man in black.
Here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense.
Our star tonight is Bela Lugosi, playing the part of Professor Antonio Basile, a psychologist.
The story is by J. Donald Wilson, who calls it, The Doctor Prescribed Dead.
If you have been with us on these Tuesday nights, you will know that Suspense is compounded of mystery and suspicion and dangerous adventure.
This series of tales is calculated to intrigue you, stir your nerves, offer you a precarious situation, and then withhold the solution until the last possible moment.
And so it is with The Doctor Prescribed Dead and Bela Lugosi's performance, we again hope to keep you in...
Suspense.
Professor Antonio Basile has a theory, but let him tell you about it.
As a psychologist, I have worked out a theory.
A theory I know to be sound.
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, and if necessary, that is exactly what I will do.
Yes, Professor Antonio Basile has a theory, but only a theory.
And he's worried about what his publisher will say, so he visits the editor whose name is Hellman.
Hellman finishes the manuscript and tosses it on the desk.
Professor Basile leans forward eagerly and...
Well, Hellman, what do you think?
Professor Basile is purely conjecture, simply a theory, and I wouldn't advise publishing it.
I worked on that theory for a long time. I'm positive of it. I know it'll work.
Suppose it will. What good is it? What good have you accomplished if you can prove it'll work?
Are you laughing at me, Hellman?
It's so silly. An ordinary human being, a suffered reverser, is sick of it all. He wants to leave it all behind.
And you say he can be changed to want to kill someone else.
I do. Self-destruction and the destruction of other life are closely related in the mind.
The dividing line is very thin.
It's ridiculous. And you won't publish it?
Granger would fire me.
Why?
He told me that in his opinion you should be in the asylum.
Mr. Granger said that? Does he think I'm insane?
How do I know?
Hellman, Mr. Granger didn't say that. It's you who thinks I'm crazy.
You never liked me. For some reason, you are trying to tear me down.
Well, we'll see, Mr. Hellman. We'll see.
Wait a minute.
I'll show you whether my works are illogical. I'll show you whether I'm insane.
Oh, calm down.
I'm going to make you eat those words. I know you don't like me, but I'm going to prove that my theory is sound.
Good night.
Wait a minute. Basile, wait.
You wait, Hellman. You wait.
Yes, wait, Hellman. Wait.
Professor Basile, seething with resentment, rushes from the office and strides angrily down the street.
Insane, huh? I'll prove my theory. I'll find a subject. I'll find someone who wants to take his own life.
And so Basile goes home late for dinner. He finds a note from his wife, Myra, saying she's decided to attend the opera and will be home around 11.30.
Then Professor Basile gets an inspiration. He goes to the bridge over the deep canyon, the bridge called Suicide.
And strangely enough, he hasn't long to wait. As he stands against the railing in the fog, a figure appears a few feet beyond, stops, prepares to leap.
Don't do it. Wait a minute.
Listen.
That's very silly.
Let go of me.
Oh, no. I couldn't do that. I need you.
I don't need you.
Don't you know this is against the law?
You're not an officer. You can't stop me.
It's 500 feet to those tracks below. Hard steel rails.
And don't believe what they all tell you about not being conscious of what happened. You'd know. People don't die instantly.
Let loose.
They're in agony for minutes and sometimes for an hour. It's 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 young girl, an intelligent girl. You wouldn't want it to happen this way. Maybe after I talk to you a while, you wouldn't want to do this at all.
No.
No.
Come on. Let's talk it over. Maybe a few minutes talk will change the entire picture for you.
What could you do to help me?
If you'll come, I'll tell you. There's a motive bag of you wanting to do this and I'd like to know what it is.
Nothing doing.
And you any relatives? Any loved ones you'd like to do something for?
Yes.
Then if you talk with me for a while, maybe I can find my way clear to help those people.
You sound crazy.
Oh no.
All right. Where?
My apartment.
Let's go.
Well, here we are. Come in, please.
Well, what do you want to know?
Sit down first. Are you hungry?
No, I'm not that broke. It isn't pop.
I knew that. I could tell by your voice.
Now first, why did you come here?
Why? Why, because you talked me into it.
I see. You're not afraid of me?
Afraid? In my frame of mind. What could I lose?
Suppose I told you that I really brought you here to kill you.
Kill me?
You know, you're a very pretty girl, don't you?
Yeah. That doesn't always mean so much.
The right man it might.
That's what I thought. But I found out it didn't mean a thing.
Ah, then it was because of a man. I knew it.
Really? How did you guess?
I'm a student of psychology. I'm Professor Antonio Basile.
I see. And you want to know what makes me tick.
You want to know the reason behind my action tonight.
That's right. I would like to know what happened to make you want to kill yourself.
Suicide is a mental aberration.
Yeah.
I'd like to know what preceded the decision to destroy yourself.
What you thought about until the moment I stopped you on the bridge.
What good will that do me?
You said you weren't broke. But you also 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 have a few dollars.
But you suggested help for someone in larger terms.
Yes, I did. Who is the loved one?
My mother.
You are her only means of support?
Yes.
And you intend to kill yourself?
Yes.
That's being selfish, isn't it?
Selfish?
Yes. You are concentrating solely on self.
You think so?
What else? The first law of human nature is self-preservation, right?
I suppose so.
The second law is the preservation of family.
Yeah.
So you decide to deny the first law and destroy yourself.
And as a consequence, deny the second and leave your mother alone and in need.
You indicate a form of insanity.
What would be normal?
To destroy the other person. The one who has done you wrong.
Have you hurt him?
No.
Then the one who has done wrong should be the one to suffer.
You have no legal recourse?
Legal recourse? No, I haven't.
I'm sorry to say.
And you would kill yourself to let your poor mother suffer because of the wrong of another.
Why shouldn't he be the one to suffer?
I suppose you're right. Why shouldn't he?
What happened after all? Why not tell me about it? Were you married?
No. He never seemed to find time to get around marriage.
What's your name?
Gladys. Gladys Tanner.
How long have you known him?
Almost four years.
And you always thought he meant to marry you?
Yes. Until three weeks ago.
Yes?
On July 1st, he had to leave town for a week on business.
Said he was going to Kansas City.
When he came back, he seemed to be too busy to see me.
Then a week ago, I found a snapshot along with several others in his desk in his home.
May I see it?
Certainly. It's a picture of him and another woman.
But the picture was not taken in Kansas City.
It wasn't?
No. It was taken on the beach at Atlantic City.
And it's dated by the finish of July 3rd.
Since he returned, he's refused to see me.
Yesterday, he finally said he didn't care to see me anymore.
But I'd better forget him.
But it isn't so easy as that, is it?
No. I figured I'd done something.
And blame myself.
Do you...
Do you know this blonde woman in this snapshot?
No.
Then it must be a woman he has met recently.
You've known him for four years.
I don't think you have to blame.
He's the one in the wrong.
And he should be made to suffer.
How?
You were going to kill yourself.
Why should you?
Kill him instead.
He double-crossed you. He deserves it.
Now let me go a little deeper into the situation.
Whenever a person has reached the conclusion...
You are sure you have made up your mind, Miss Tanner?
Positive.
Now, if you're careful, you won't be caught.
No.
But whether you are or not, I am giving you this check for a thousand dollars made out to cash...
to be sent to your mother only after the man is dead.
Write his name on this pad.
There you are.
I will know what has happened by the newspapers.
And I will withhold payment until I learn that you have gone through with it.
It'll happen tonight.
Very well.
You are sure? You are determined?
Absolutely. Nothing could stop me.
Very good.
But...
Just what would happen if I did get caught?
You won't get caught if you follow my instructions. I know.
Now, here is a small revolver.
It'll fit easier in your purse. That's all you need.
Be sure to wipe your fingerprints off.
And leave the gun near the body.
Yeah.
Well, goodbye, Dr. Basile.
Goodbye, Gladys. And good luck.
Professor Basile watches Gladys as she crosses the street to the dimly lighted bus stop.
Then he rushes to his car and drives away.
A few minutes later he comes to a stop at Hellman's house.
Hellman, the editor who ridiculed his theory.
Just a minute.
Oh. Hello, Basile.
Good evening, Hellman.
Thought I had the power to have a little chat with you.
Well, why this time of night? It's kind of late, isn't it?
Eleven. Didn't think that was late for you.
No?
Come in.
Thanks.
Sit down. What's on your mind?
I want to talk to you about my theory you ridiculed so definitely. My theory about suicide.
Well, I just don't believe it, that's all.
And I said I'd prove it, didn't I?
Yes, but what are you getting at?
It's going to be proved. My theory is going to be proved tonight.
Well, that's fine. Go right ahead and prove it.
I don't like you, Hellman. I'd never like you. And I know you don't like me.
I can't help that, Basile.
What are you staring at?
Is there someone here with you?
Certainly not. Why?
That's a woman's purse on the Davenport.
Oh, my secretary dropped by earlier this evening with a manuscript. She must have forgotten it.
She's not here now?
Of course not.
I found a subject. A girl who was ready to commit suicide because a man jilted her.
In a few hours I was successful in changing her thoughts from suicide to homicide, and she is going to kill the man tonight.
What do you think of that?
Maybe 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 you who the victim is going to be.
You know who the intended victim is? Why don't you stop it?
But then I wouldn't have proved my theory. If you put this girl up to it, you're as guilty as she is.
You're insane, Basile, hopelessly insane.
You think so, Hellman.
The whole idea is mad, too utterly ridiculous for words.
No sane man would ever think of such a useless, senseless idea. And for heaven's sake, stop laughing.
I'm thinking about the victim when he learns.
Who is the victim?
Martin Hellman.
Me?
Yes, you.
I don't believe you. You will this time.
Who is this girl? I know no girl who'd want to kill me. This one does, now.
Oh, nonsense. However, I wouldn't put a past you to hire someone to do something like this.
No, no, this girl is no fake. This girl is serious, deadly serious.
You 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 up your hands, Hellman. Get away from the desk.
I'll just take care of the gun, Hellman.
That's better.
Well, since when did you start carrying a gun, Basile?
I a gun? Don't be silly. This isn't a gun in my pocket. It's just my pipe. See?
Well, what do you hear, Hellman?
Nothing.
Oh, yes, you do. I heard it, too. The sound on the porch. I leave now.
The back way. I put your gun in the kitchen. And I'll be very careful to remove all my fingerprints.
You insane fool. Fancy you. You, Hellman, you are going to help prove my theory.
Good night, Hellman.
Crazy devil. I'll have him locked up before he gets across town.
Good evening, Mr. Hellman.
Huh? How did you get in here?
Through the patio door.
What do you want?
I wanted to talk to you.
Very strangely.
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 to be married. I couldn't understand.
I tried and tried to think of something I'd done to cause our breakup.
Then I happened to find this 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. A business trip. Ha!
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 does it do you?
A lot of good.
First, I thought you came here for money.
How could you think such a thing?
Well, I think you'd better go now.
I'm going. Goodbye, Morton.
And good luck in your new venture.
What venture?
This one.
Gladys! Gladys!
And wish me luck in mine.
Gladys stands, staring a moment at the body of Hellman.
Then lights off the gun, drops it to the floor, takes the professor's check from her purse,
steps to Hellman's desk and writes a note.
Then she puts the note in an envelope with the check, addresses it, stamps it, turns out the lights,
and steps out into the dark street.
At the corner, she drops the envelope in the mailbox and disappears.
Professor Barseil heard the shots. His theory worked.
Hellman will torment him no more.
The perfect crime.
So he can go home to his wife now and go to sleep.
Myra!
Myra!
Huh? What? Oh, Antonio.
What are you doing asleep on the Davenport?
You know what time it is?
Must be after midnight. I've been waiting for you.
How was the opera?
Fair. Nothing to brag about.
Who sang the lead?
Belchiotti. He wasn't very good.
Belchiotti?
He's a poor Othello.
Othello? I thought they were doing Aida tonight.
No, they switched because someone was ill.
I just as soon as stayed home.
Good night, myra.
No thanks. I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed.
I belong presently. Good night.
Then the night passes and the morning comes.
The professor rises cheerfully and prepares for breakfast.
Then...
I'll get it, myra.
Yes?
Are you Professor Barseil?
Yes.
May we come in? We'd like to talk with you.
Of course. What is it you want?
Is your wife in?
Yes.
We'd like to see her, too.
Who are you?
Oh, I'm Lieutenant Davis.
Detective headquarters.
Well, what do you want?
Would you call your wife?
Why, uh...
I'm sorry.
Myra!
What is all about?
What is it, Antonio?
These men are from detective headquarters. They want to talk to us.
Really? What about?
May I ask where you were last night, Mrs. Barseil?
Certainly. I went to the opera.
What time did you get home?
I imagine it was around eleven. I was shortly after.
Were you at home last evening, Professor?
Well, I was at the club and got home about twelve-thirty.
By the way, do you know Morton Hellman?
Certainly.
What about him?
He's been murdered.
Murdered?
Good Lord. When?
Around midnight last night. I found him this morning.
How terrible.
I have known him for years.
He was editor-in-chief of the company publishing my writings.
I'm a psychologist, you know.
Yes, I know.
But what do you want to know from us?
We weren't connected socially with Hellman.
Just in business.
Did you know him, Mrs. Barseil?
Yes, I knew him very slightly.
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?
Lady Tanner? No.
Did you know of a Gladys Tanner, Mrs. Barseil?
No.
Is this your purse, Mrs. Barseil?
Why, of course it is.
That's the one I gave you last Christmas, Myra.
Oh, yes. I must have lost it downtown.
Where did you find it, little tenant?
At Hellman's home.
Hellman's home?
Well, how in the world?
Good heavens, 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.
What?
No fingerprints on it, however.
May I see it?
Myra, this is your gun.
I bought this for you two years ago when I went on the 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 time?
Perhaps I did. I'm so confused now I can't remember.
Think, Myra.
I don't think it is. It is terrible.
Oh, 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?
No, I've never reloaded it. I just didn't think about it.
Maybe I did put it in my purse.
Why, I don't know. And whoever found the purse may have used the gun to...
Oh, 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 ever heard of.
Why would my wife want to do such a thing?
Why should she get to Hellman?
She hardly knew him.
Are you sure about that, Professor?
Of course.
Well, sorry to say that I don't believe her.
What? This is ridiculous.
This is going to be a shock to you, Professor, but here's a snapshot we found on Hellman's desk.
Taken in Atlantic City last July.
Good heavens.
July? This is you, Myra. You and Hellman.
You were at your mother's in Florida in July.
Myra, look at me. What does this mean?
I can't. I can't.
And I can't believe such a thing.
May I have the purse, the gun, and the photo? Thank you.
I'm sorry, but I'll have to take her down to headquarters.
But I didn't kill him. I didn't. I wouldn't. I loved him.
Myra.
You'd better pull yourself together. You'll have to go back.
They'll want photos and fingerprints.
Yes. You'd better get ready, Myra.
It certainly looks bad for her.
Afraid it does. Looks like an open and shut case.
Oh, will you come along too, Professor?
Certainly.
And so it all worked out beautifully.
Not quite as the professor had planned.
But then he changed his plan from the moment when Gladys Tanner showed him the snapshot taken in Atlantic City.
And he realized that the girl's fiancée was Hellman and the blonde was Myra, his wife.
He had no intention of allowing Gladys Tanner to kill Hellman until he saw that snapshot.
And when he recognized Myra's purse in Hellman's home,
he decided to let Gladys kill him and the blame be placed on Myra.
The perfect crime.
But several hours later, after fingerprints and many questions,
the professor is just about to be dismissed when Sergeant Rankin steps into the room and speaks quietly to Lieutenant Davis.
What is it, Rankin?
I stayed at the Seals' place, as you said.
Well?
A few minutes ago, a special delivery letter came for the professor.
This will knock your eye off. Read it.
All right.
Well, this fits perfectly with the writing we were trying to make out on Hellman's desk letter.
Professor, here's a letter sent special delivery to you a few minutes ago, postmarked last night. Read it.
Dear Professor Basile, your theory worked a certain degree.
You convinced me I should kill him.
I should kill him, but when that gun you gave me misfired twice, I almost quit.
Go ahead, Professor. Read on.
Then as I looked at him on the floor, the feeling of self-destruction came back.
I'm going ahead with my plan. Here's your check. I won't need it.
Besides, I lied to you.
I lost my mother long ago.
But next time, I'll lock her up.
A half hour ago, they found her body under the suicide bridge.
Well, Professor, your perfect crime has failed.
Failed? Yes, failed.
It's a wonderful setup on paper, but your theory backfired and you're up for murder.
But I didn't kill him.
But you planned it and you're as guilty as Gladys. She's paid her penalty, now it's your turn.
No, no. I won't. I won't be hanged. Never!
Drink and grab it.
And now the doctor lies on the sidewalk 17 stories below.
His entire theory worked in reverse.
And so closes the doctor prescribed death starring Bela Lugosi.
Tonight's story of suspense.
It came to you from Columbia Square in Hollywood.
This is 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 present the noted actor, Mr. Sidney Greenstreet in The Hangman Won't Wait.
William Spear, the producer, Ted Bliss, the director,
Ladd Glaskin, the musical director, Lucian Mahwick, the composer,
and J. Donald Wilson, the author, collaborated on tonight's suspense.
This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.