Suspense.
This is the Man in Black.
Here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense.
Two of Hollywood's most deaf players are with us tonight.
This Geraldine Fitzgerald and Sir Cedric Hardwick.
These Fitzgerald and Sir Cedric are here to match wits in a suspenseful tale by John Dixon
Carr called Will You Walk into My Parlor?
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, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious
situation and then withhold the solution until the last possible moment.
And so with Will You Walk into My Parlor?
And the performances of Geraldine Fitzgerald and Sir Cedric Hardwick, we again hope to
keep you in Suspense.
Just how far does any man trust his wife or his fiance either, for that matter?
An English bazaar, a garden party in the grounds of Leighton Hall in Kent one fine summer afternoon
before the war.
Leighton Hall is the home of Major and Mrs. Grant, always ready in the cause of charity.
There's the stern red brick of the hall rising above oak trees.
Against green lawns are the stalls and the swings and the roundabouts and the coconut
chives.
They are not well patronized now because a summer storm is coming up and the wind is
whipping at the tents, flapping the gaudy banners in a fantastic manner and sending
the spectators hurrying away in search of shelter.
But over in a far corner is the fortune teller's tent, bawdy and purple and gold, yet with
more than just a suggestion of mystery.
Beside it is a miniature shooting gallery, presided over by Major Grant himself.
Near the center of the bazaar is the bandstand where the village musicians play lustily
to keep the patronizers from leaving.
But as the wind rises, it seems that only two of them are oblivious to the coming storm,
for they are in love.
The young man is tall in sport coat and flannels.
The young lady in a flowing gown of a startling beauty which suggests a halo, a startling
beauty that blows against the gray of the sky and the paint of the tents.
She has her hand on his arm for protection against what, you ask?
Nothing, just for protection.
Philip darling, I want to get my fortune told before we leave.
Mary, the wind, I'm sure is going to pour any minute.
Oh, it won't take long.
We'll beat the storm, wait and see.
I hate to drag you away from the match, but I do want to visit him.
You don't believe in that rubbish, do you Mary?
No, I don't suppose I do.
But I never can resist getting my fortune told.
I suppose it's a woman's prerogative.
And they say this man is overly good.
They say it's marvelous how he can tell you all about yourself.
You know that already, don't you?
Oh Phil darling, please don't be so unimaginative.
All right, Mary, I'll be good.
Who is the fortune teller, by the way?
There's his sign on the tent, the great Omar,
palmist and crystalgazer, sees all, knows all.
No, I mean, who is he in real life, friend of the major's?
Maybe the major could tell us.
There he is now.
Hello there, you two.
Over here.
Hello, Major.
Please, Phil, we don't have to go there, do we?
Go where?
To that shooting range of the major's.
I hate guns.
It's right next to the fortune teller's tent, Mary,
and we can't assault our host.
Coming, Major.
Look at the major, he's beaming all over his face
and twisting that white mustache into a corkscrew.
I suppose he's heard about us.
Mary, my very contrary woman, you're not ashamed of being
engaged to me, are you?
Oh, you know it's nothing like that, Phil.
I'm much too much in love with you.
Only all the old cats in the village
are probably saying awful things about me.
Now what the devil could they be saying about you?
Mary Sherwood, Phil Lester.
Hello, Major Grant.
Oh, you young rascals, you young so-and-sos.
Give me a hand, each of you.
And many congratulations.
Thank you.
Thank you very much, Major.
We feel rather pleased about it ourselves.
Pleased I do.
And you, young woman, you come over here
and then you'll have every one of us Britishers
at your feet, what do you do, but snary a fellow American
when he's helpless and away from home.
And do I love being snared?
Yes, old girl, it looks as though you had your man
where you wanted him.
Now tell me your secret, are you a demon in disguise?
Please, Major Grant.
It's an awfully good desire, isn't it, if she is.
Please, Major, please, Phil.
Why, is anything wrong?
No, nothing, but it's getting dark and the wind's rising.
It's going to pour any minute now.
Oh, a moment before you were the one who said not to worry.
Oh, that won't matter, my girl.
The show's nearly over anyway.
We did pretty well, if I do say so myself.
We came over here really to see the fortune teller.
If you don't mind letting go of my hand.
No, you don't, my girl, not a bit of it.
You won't let me go?
Not until you patronize this charity.
As a preparation of polishing off your husband after marriage,
why not try a few rounds with a rifle?
Show us what kind of a shot you are.
No, please.
No, no, no, here's a neat little model, Winchester 61.
22 caliber, yeah, try it.
I know it's stupid and silly on me,
and it's not the rifle really.
It's anything to do with death.
Death?
I mean anything that suggests death.
Ever since I was a child,
I've never even been able to look at a dead person
in a coffin, it scares me.
Mary, a dead person?
Somebody's going to get killed, darling.
You just fire away and see if you can hit the target.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
All right, if you insist, I...
Watch out!
Bullseye, you've hit the electric light in the roof.
You're not supposed to aim at that.
Oh, I'm so sorry, I...
Look here, speaking of dying,
if that's your style of target shooting,
down if I'm not going to crawl out from under this counter
and stand behind her.
Here, make way.
It isn't funny, Phil.
I'm sorry, but I can't go on with this.
Here's the rifle.
All right, here I am.
Sorry, Mary, if I'd known it was going to affect you like this.
Oh, it's all right.
I tell you what, you run along
and see the fortune teller, my dear.
Come with me, Phil, won't you?
He'll only admit one at a time.
Well, why don't you go ahead, darling?
I'll wait for you here.
All right, Phil.
You know, Major, I am an idiot for upsetting her.
You're a very lucky young fellow, my lad.
I hope you realize that.
Oh, I realize it all right.
I hope this fortune teller doesn't keep her in there very long.
Yeah, why?
Look at the sky, it's getting black as pitch.
If you're not careful, this wind is going to blow
all your tents into the next county.
Well, these tents are pretty securely pegged, young fellow.
I think we can risk it.
It's so dark that...
Wait a minute, look there.
Yeah, where?
The fortune teller's tent.
He's got a light inside
and you can see his shadow against the tent.
It's like his shadow's green.
Look, sir, there's Mary going in.
Now she's sitting down across the table from him.
I say, young fellow,
do you happen to know who the fortune teller really is?
No, as a matter of fact, I was going to ask you.
Well, I'll tell you a little secret.
He's a detective inspector from Scotland Yard.
A what?
A detective inspector from Scotland Yard.
He came down here on business, forged half-prounds or something.
So the chief constable and I asked him to do our,
be our fortune teller.
He's one of these glittering-eyed blokes
and in a turban with brown paint on his face.
Does he know anything about palmistry?
No, no, but he knows a lot about human nature.
That, my lad, is Inspector Brandon.
He's a specialist in poison cases.
They say never forgets a face.
Wait a minute.
Why, is anything wrong?
What's he saying to Mary?
Look at those shadows.
Mary's jumped up and back to waiting.
He's pointing his finger at her.
Now she's backing out of the tent.
Look, Major, he's following her.
Can you hear what he's saying?
Remember, my dear, ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
No, no.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
Mary, darling, get hold of yourself.
Mary.
Darling, you shouldn't get all upset over that fortune
telling lingo.
What's wrong with you?
What was he saying to you?
Saying to me?
Nothing at all, really.
Only the usual thing about a happy life and a little illness,
but nothing serious.
Then why were you so frightened?
Frightened?
But I wasn't frightened.
Oh, no, Mary, I'm sorry.
I saw your shadow on the wall of that tent
and I heard you shrieking.
I think I'll go in and get my fortune told
and see what all this is about.
Phil, you mustn't.
Why not?
I felt a drop of rain on my head.
It's going to pour down in a second.
Hadn't we better run for the house?
Well, you go on up to the house, Mary.
Oh, Phil, I don't want to be by myself.
All right, then, dear.
There's the Major.
Here, give him this gun, will you?
I'll be with you in a moment.
I'm going to see that faker.
Fortune teller, may I come in?
You may.
Please to enter.
Thank you.
Sit down in the chair opposite to me.
First tell me the date of your birth,
then look at the crystal on the table in front of you.
Just a minute, Inspector Brandon.
Do you mind if we drop the mumbo jumbo?
Well, as a matter of fact, I'd like to drop it.
It's been rid of a strain talking like Hamlet's ghost.
Well, what's on your mind?
Well, maybe it's only the heat or my own nerves,
but what were you saying to Miss Sherwood?
Miss who?
The young lady who was just in here, my fiancee.
What's wrong?
Why did you jump like that?
Did you say fiancee?
Of course, why not?
Now look here, mister.
Oh, my name is Lester, Philip Lester.
And what did you say her name is?
Mary Sherwood.
Here, what's all this mystery?
Tell me, Mr. Lester, has she lived here in the village
for very long?
Oh, only about six months.
How long have you been engaged to her?
Believe me, I have a reason for asking that.
How long have you been engaged?
Well, a week tomorrow, but...
A week tomorrow?
Hmm.
Did she by any chance invite you to dinner
at her house tomorrow night?
Dinner?
Has she?
Yes, as a matter of fact, she has, but I don't see...
You know who this Mary Sherwood really is?
No?
Well, I'll tell you, she is...
Inspector Brandon!
Ah!
Never stand with your shadow against the light!
Here, hit!
Mr. Brandon, I'm terribly sorry,
but Philip shouldn't have given me this dreadful rifle to hold.
All I did was touch the trigger by accident.
I hope I haven't hit anything.
In the quiet village of Sutton, later that same night,
after the unfortunate accident that couldn't be helped,
a rather white-faced young man, Philip Lester,
slips down the road, pauses in front of the door to the inn,
starts to enter, and then changes his mind.
He looks over his shoulder and then walks around the building,
being very careful to stay within its shadow.
He slips in through the side door and makes sure that no one sees him,
as he makes his way quietly up the stairs
to a darkened passageway outside the bedrooms,
glances at the number on the first door,
and then hurries down the hall,
stops in front of room 27.
Oh!
Yes?
Come in!
Inspector Brandon, I...
Why, I thought...
Close the door, close it quickly.
Yes, sir.
You...
You're sitting up.
And taking an audition, thank you.
Oh...
Excuse me, Inspector, but I...
heard you were still unconscious and not expected to live.
Yes, that was the report that I asked Dr. Stiles to give out.
But why?
I had my reasons, Mr. Lester.
As you can see, fortunately, I was the recipient of only a flesh wound
across the left shoulder.
It bled a little, but not much.
Then, Inspector, poor Mary's nearly frantic.
She thinks she's killed you. Let me ring her up and...
Stay away from her telephone!
Why?
Because...
Because I want to tell you a few things about Miss Mary Sherwood.
In the first place, she isn't a miss.
She's...
She's had three husbands already.
What?
All of whom died a violent death
by poisoning.
What are you trying to tell me?
Now, just a moment before you lose your temper.
Three husbands and one fiancée whom she didn't bother to marry.
First, the fiancée.
They made mutual wills in each other's favor.
Exactly a week after the engagement,
following dinner at her house, this fellow was taken ill.
Ah, he died before morning in Titanic convulsion.
Inspector, that's ridiculous.
Mary, why she's so young and innocent.
Young, perhaps, but...
I don't believe it.
Don't take my word for it.
I've sent Sergeant Lamb to London on the file.
You can see photographs and fingerprints.
I still don't believe it.
Then tell me, Mr. Lester.
You're quite a wealthy man, aren't you?
Yes, I'm fairly well off.
Have you and this woman made a will in each other's favor?
Mary wouldn't need to do that.
She's got plenty of money and a collection of jewels worth,
I don't know how much.
I quite agree, but you haven't answered my question.
Have you made a will in each other's favor?
Yes.
Whose suggestion was that?
Yours or hers?
I don't remember.
We started talking and agreed it would be a sensible idea.
But it shocked you a little, didn't it?
Now, you wondered why it was necessary.
It's back to the...
A minute ago, you were talking about photographs
and fingerprints.
Well?
You don't mean Mary's been on trial.
She has been on trial three times.
Yes, three times, and under three different names.
But she was acquitted.
Yes, because she had a cast-down alibi.
There, you see?
Wait.
She was acquitted simply because the prosecution couldn't
show how the poison was administered.