Suspense.
This is the man in black here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense.
In our starring Hollywood cast this evening is Mr. Peter Laurie, who appears as a mysterious
gentleman called George Ravel.
Miss Wendy Berry plays our worried heroin marjorie.
Mr. George Zuko is the lawyer, Alex Stevens.
The story called The Moment of Darkness is tonight's tale, our suspense.
If you have 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 scare your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation and then withhold a solution until
the last possible moment.
And so with The Moment of Darkness and with the performances of Peter Laurie, Wendy Berry,
George Zuko and our other players, we again hope to keep you in suspense.
The Clan Bleu crack express train from Paris to the French Riviera, which in these carefree
days before the war, used to make the journey from Paris to Nice overnight.
At the Gare du Sud on this particular mild spring evening, the train with its glistening
wagons lises or sleeping cars waits in a station filled with smoke and the iron coughing of
engines.
You can hear the excited crowd at the slamming of compartment doors.
You can see the guard standing by with his watch in hand, with his horn ready to blow
as a signal.
En voiture, monsieur le voyageur.
En voiture.
En voiture.
En voiture.
En voiture.
En voiture.
En voiture.
En voiture.
En voiture.
And now, the last moment just before the signal, a girl in a light summer dress carrying
a small suitcase hurries along the platform towards car number 10.
The girl is blonde and evidently English.
And as she hurries towards the guard...
En voiture.
Dépêchez-vous, mademoiselle.
Hurry up, please.
Yes, yes, of course.
Is this carriage number 10?
Oui, mademoiselle, numéro 10.
Hurry up, please.
Thank you.
I'll get in.
Et maintenant...
This corridor must be at least a mile long.
Carre 10.
Compartment number 6.
Compartment number 6.
Compartment...
Here it is.
Yes, come in.
Mr. Stevens, I...
Oh, I beg your pardon.
That's quite all right.
Won't you come in?
I thought this was Mr. Stevens' compartment.
It is his compartment.
I'm sharing it with him.
He is on the train, isn't he?
Oh, yes, yes.
He's gone to look for some luggage that failed to turn up.
In the meantime, won't you come in and sit down?
Thank you.
As an old friend of Toby Stevens, why do you smile?
Nothing.
It's just odd to hear a dignified man like Mr. Stevens called Toby.
That's all.
Well, it suits him.
As an old friend of his anyway, may I introduce myself?
I'm Ken Blake, on vacation from the American Consulate in London.
How do you do?
My name is Grey, Marjorie Grey.
I most particularly wanted to have a word with Mr. Stevens.
Miss Grey, will you pardon my impertinence if I ask...
Ask what?
Whether it's about your Aunt Hester at Monte Carlo, and the man who seems so determined to
scare her to death.
Do you know about that?
Yes, a little.
After all, that's why Toby's left his law practice and come all the way from London.
He said...
Marjorie!
Scott, what are you doing here?
I came up from Monte Carlo especially to see you.
I thought I'd find you in Paris, but when I got to your hotel they told me you'd gone.
Cook said they'd reserved a compartment on this train for you.
So, well, here I am.
But why?
Before you see Aunt Hester, Mr. Stevens, I want to know what you meant by that letter
you wrote me.
I meant exactly what I said, Marjorie.
I'm going to expose this faker, George Ravel.
Excuse me, if you two want to talk, I'll just clear out of here.
Oh no, Ken, stay where you are.
Really, Mr. Stevens?
You've made an impression on her, Ken.
When the girl suddenly becomes sort of a British after spending half her life on the Riviera.
Well, you've made an impression.
Don't talk like that, Toby.
She won't get annoyed with you for saying it.
She'll just get annoyed with me.
Marjorie, this is Ken Blake.
We've met, thanks.
I asked him to come along with me and for a very good reason.
Indeed?
Ken was for years at the American Consulate in Paris.
He knows all the heads of the Surie des Generaux.
That's the Scotland jar to France.
And in particular, he knows the great Detective Flemonde, who's the chef de surete.
I thought Ken might be very useful when we nab Ravel.
But I tell you, Ravel is dangerous.
Dangerous, my eyes.
Something's going to happen.
I know something dreadful's going to happen.
Now let's face the situation, Marjorie.
Your Aunt Hester is middle-aged, wealthy, and...
Oh, if only Uncle Paul hadn't died.
He was the decentest person I ever knew.
But he did die, my dear.
And Hester can't be consoled.
She can't eat, she can't sleep, she can't think of anything except getting in touch
with his spirit.
Along comes this faker Ravel to give seances.
I wonder if he is a faker.
You're not falling for this, Tommy Rot, surely?
Really, Mr. Blake.
If I'd asked for your advice in this matter...
I beg your pardon, Miss Gray.
When we get to Nice, I'll take the first train back to Paris.
No, no, wait, please.
I didn't mean to be rude.
It's nice of you to help us, but it's the whole atmosphere of Monte Carlo.
Well, that's quite all right, my dear.
We understand.
Of course.
There's Aunt Hester in that villa over the Mediterranean.
There's Ravel, all thin and quiet and swarthy, with those somber-looking eyes of his.
He seems to dominate her, just as Mr. Stevens used to.
Dominate her, my dear?
That's rather a strong word for an easy-going old buffer like me.
The things Ravel does at those seances are terrifying.
I don't know whether he's an imposter or not, but I am sure nobody else can do what he does.
Now, there, Marjorie, is where you're wrong.
I can.
You can?
Yes, and I promise to duplicate in front of your aunt every single trick Ravel ever performed.
Oh, that's impossible.
Is it?
Wait and see.
I'll put it up to Mr. Blake.
It isn't merely that Ravel is tied up, tied hand and foot in a chair, while these horrible
things are going on.
I know there are people who can get out of ropes and back into them again, but Ravel lets
you take one precaution that shows there can't be any trickery.
Oh, and what is that precaution?
Just before the lights go out, he takes a piece of white paper.
Well?
He puts one under each foot.
He takes a pencil and draws an outline around the shoe on the paper.
If he moves the millionth fraction of an inch, it would show in the outline later.
But it never does.
Well, look, here, Toby, that's a bad one.
Why does it strike you as being so funny?
Because I can do it too.
Just give me a moment of darkness, that's all.
You mean he gets out of his shoes or something like that?
No, he could hardly get out of his shoes and back into them without disturbing the outline.
Then he doesn't leave his chair after all.
On the contrary, he can be all over the room.
Well, how in Satan's name does he do it?
My dear fellow, there's nothing simple.
The Villa Bijoux Monte Carlo the next evening.
On the lighted terrace, that white villa, overlooking the olive groves and the sea,
three people are seated at their ease enjoying the night air.
Below glitters the town, white palm gardens.
But even its lamps are dimmed by the firework illumination from the Promenade des Anglais.
When the Principality of Monaco celebrates its ruler's birthday, great rockets go hissing
upwards to burst and bloom in colored fires against the black sky.
I don't like those fireworks.
The noise upsets me.
I wish they'd stop.
Never mind the fireworks, Hester.
You've heard my proposition.
Give me an answer.
Oh, what's more, you spill broth on your jacket at dinner.
You're the clumsiest eater I ever saw.
Here, here.
Let me take a hack at it.
Please, Aunt Hester.
Won't you answer, Mr. Stevens?
Why don't you two let me alone?
I'm not going to let you go.
I'm going to go.
I'm going to go.
I'm going to go.
I'm going to go.
I'm going to go.
I'm going to go.
I'm going to go.
I'm going to go.
I'll go.
I'll go.
I'll go.
I'll go.
Give me a break.
No, you two let me alone.
Both of you.
We're only trying to help you.
Don't you believe that?
Oh, yes, I...
I believe it.
But I'm happy.
I talked with my husband twice last week.
Now, look here, Hester, this has got to stop.
Why?
That all's a fraud and I can prove it.
If Monsieur Rappelle is a fraud, what is he gained by this?
Has he got asked for money?
I don't know.
Has he?
No.
Not a penny.
You haven't changed your will by any chance.
People do queer things sometimes that even their solicitors don't know about.
Oh, not yet. I haven't changed my will.
When I die, Marjorie inherits everything.
I am a lonely woman. I'm getting old.
I haven't got much to look forward to.
Why don't you go your way and let me go mine?
Suppose Ravel is a fraud. Just suppose it.
Well, all right. Have your way.
You wouldn't like to think you'd been deliberately tricked and imposed on now, would you?
Oh, no, no. Of course not.
Now, listen, Hester.
If I proved to you these so-called miracles were really tricks that I can do myself...
Oh, don't be ridiculous, Alex. Alex Stephens.
I ought to prove that here and now.
Would that shake your faith a little?
Yes, I suppose it would. I...
But how did you become so clever all of a sudden?
How did you become so gullible all of a sudden?
You used to scoff at this sort of thing. You used to be gay and lively and go to the casino.
Well, that was before Paul died.
You're shivering, Marjorie, if you feel cold, put it around.
I'm not cold. It's only...
Only what?
Got a kind of resentment that there's something dreadful hanging over us.
I can't tell what direction it's taking or who's in danger.
But I'm sure it's going to burst. Just as sure as I...
Right. George, look at that rocket.
Yes. Red and gold stars.
And a deathly white blaze like the life we're living.
You can see every leaf in the garden. Every blade of grass.
And we can also see... Look there. Ravel and Ken Blake coming up the path.
This... This Ken Blake, Mr. Stevens. Are you sure he's quite honest?
My dear Marjorie, Ken's all right. I've known him for years.
I thought he came here to help expose Ravel.
But he and Ravel are as thick as thieves.
What sort of game is going on here?
Dame Mademoiselle, you spoke of a game?
Yes, Monsieur Ravel, I did.
So did I, friend Ravel.
Are you ready for my demonstration tonight?
Demonstration?
In the science room upstairs.
You claim you can bring back the dead.
Pardon me, Monsieur, I claim nothing.
When I'm in trance, I cannot tell what happens.
But I can. I'm going to make ghosts walk by perfectly natural means.
You know, Monsieur Stevens, I... I don't understand your logic.
Logic?
Yes, you wish to... How do you put it? Expose me.
But how will you expose me by these childish tricks?
If I show you a counterfeit £10 note, does that prove there's no Bank of England?
I'm not going to argue subtleties with you. You can always beat me there.
I'm a plain ordinary man with a little common sense to back me up.
No, no, no, come on, my friend. Not an ordinary man, surely.
Just exactly what are you hinting at?
Yes, I... I'd like to know that too.
Oh, Madame Hester, believe me, I didn't mean to upset you.
I wouldn't upset you for anything.
No, I'll bet you wouldn't.
Why, I kiss your hand, Madame. I'm... I'm all apologies.
Well, let this gentleman do what he likes.
But I warn him, it is dangerous.
Dangerous? How is it dangerous?
That's the first time you've spoken, Mr. Blake.
Why have you been so quiet?
Please, Marjorie, please, now, be a good girl and stop interrupting.
I'm sorry, Aunt Hester, but he's been muttering to himself
and moving from one foot to the other and looking guilty.
I've found that I'm not looking guilty.
Aren't you?
No, it's a hot night. I don't like this business at all.
Why will a séance be dangerous?
Why? Because we shall be tempering with evil forces.
Evil forces my foot.
Oh, you doubt it?
Yes.
This brave Monsieur Stevens is challenging the unseen world.
He's mocking at forces he does not understand.
Believe me, Monsieur, they are not mocked without danger.
I'll risk that, thanks.
Well up in the séance room, with a door bolted on the inside,
we shall be at their mercy.
The evil forces, the elementals, will wax and grow strong.
They can take us in their grip as I take this walking stick and...
You've got strong hands, Monsieur Ravel.
The hands of evil spirits are stronger, much stronger.
I'm afraid. I wonder if we ought to do this.
I've been wondering the same thing.
What does your aunt say?
I don't know what to say. I'm so confused.
I want to break down and cry.
I suppose we'd better do it or Alex Stevens will never let me hear the end of it.
For the last time, Monsieur, will you be warned of danger?
No.
Very well.
Oh, Madame Hester.
Yes, Monsieur Ravel.
Do you believe that I'm an imposter?
No, dear, of course not.
But in your heart, you're not yet convinced.
I don't know.
You know, I'm not such a fool as some people seem to think.
But if something did happen, something to show there are living forces beyond this world,
it would convince you utterly.
Oh, yes, I suppose it would.
Then shall we allow Monsieur Stevens to go on with his demonstration?
I have a feeling we shouldn't do this.
I'm afraid!
Upstairs, at the Villa Bijoux, there is a small, bare, deeply carpeted room.
Its only furniture consists of a round table, five chairs, and a large cabinet phonograph.
There is only one door, and there are no windows.
In one chair, a little way back from the table, sits Mr. Alexander Stevens.
He has tied hand and foot, the outline of his shoes drawn with pencil on pieces of paper,
so that he cannot move.
Now then, friend Ravel, have you quite finished tying me up?
Oh, yes, yes, and I bet you you won't get out of these knots, sir.
Well, we'll see about that.
Well, the rest of you, ready?
Yes, yes, all right.
Dear, I wish I'd put some smelling salts in my handbag.
Well, what do you want us to do now?
You'll have conditions exactly as they are for Mr. Ravel.
I'll sit in this chair back from the table.
You four sit round the table, clasping hands to form a circle.
All right, let's get on with it.
Ken, will you start the gramophone?
I believe it's customary, Mr. Ravel, to have hymns played at the beginning of the séance,
to establish the proper frame of mind.
Yes, Monsieur, that's true.
You fool.
What did you say?
Oh, nothing, Monsieur, please continue.
Start the gramophone, Ken.
When you've done that, turn out the lights and that switch by the door.
Then join the circle, clasp each other's hands tightly and don't let go unless...
Unless what?
Well, unless something gets me.
Be careful, Monsieur.
Go on, please, start the gramophone.
All right, here goes.
Now the lights, Ken, switch off the lights.
Yes, yes, yes, there you are.
It's pitch dark, I can't see my way back to the table.
Here, Ken, here's my hand.
Thank you, thanks.
And mine on the other side, Mr. Blake.
Thank you, I've got my bearings now.
Are all of you clasping the hands of the next person?
Then quiet and wait for what's going to happen.
Ken, look.
Look where?
Over there, where Mr. Stevens is sitting.
What about it?
There's a luminous spot in the dark, about the size of a shilling.
It's...
Quiet, quiet, please.
Did anything touch the back of your neck?
No.
What was that?
It's Alex Stevens, I know it.
This was not in the program, Madame.
Break the circle and get those lights on.
The luminous spot is still there.
Oh, hurry, Ken.
I can't see my way in the dark.
I don't know which direction the lights are.
Wait a minute.
Here's the wall.
If I go up along here, I ought to find the...
Yes, yes, here it is. Lights.
Quiet, quiet, silence, mademoiselle, please.
What's wrong, Mr. Stevens?
What's that sticking out of his chest?
It's the handle of a dagger.
And a good deal of blood has soaked through his coat, too.
Well, Mr. Blake, will you turn off this gramophone?
Yes, certainly.
But you're not saying that Toby Stevens is dead.
I'm afraid he is, my friend.
That's a direct heart wound.
Perhaps ten seconds of intense agony, and then the end.
Oh, is the door still bolted from the inside?
Yes.
Then we are all alone, here, the four of us.
This rash gentleman, one imagines, did not kill himself.
He's too well tied up.
I know who killed him, Mr. George Ravel.
You did, with luminous paint.
I killed him, mademoiselle, with luminous paint?
I mean, that was part of the trick.
You tied him up.
You were the only one who touched him.
And? What of that, mademoiselle?
Luminous paint doesn't show up in the light.
You smeared a little of it on his coat.
That showed you exactly where to strike in the dark.
I commend your good sense, mademoiselle.
But there are two excellent reasons why I had nothing to do with it.
The first reason I must keep to myself,
but the second reason can easily be proved.
Well, what is it?
Well, up to the time that man screamed,
you yourself were holding my right hand,
and Madame Hester was holding my left hand.
Did either of you let go at any time?
No.
No, that is, I didn't.
What about you, Aunt Hester?
No, no, Marjorie did.
I didn't let go, either.
He never moved.
Hold on. Wait a minute.
Well, monsieur, I'm sorry.
I was holding Marjorie's hand on one side and her ants on the other,
and they didn't move, either.
Nobody let go or left the circle.
That's true.
Consequently, none of us could have killed Toby Stevens.
Yes, it is true.
Somebody must have sneaked in here.
Oh, no.
As you said yourself, the door is bolted on the inside.
Then who the devil did kill him?
Well, that's the question.
Has anybody ever seen that dagger before?
No.
It looks like one of those curio things you buy in the shops.
Yes, and with the design of wooden scrollwork on a handle,
no fingerprints will show.
Nothing else except some music instruments,
a tambourine, an accordion, and a speaking trumpet.
You know, I blame myself for this.
You ought to.
Why?
Because you killed him.
Don't ask me how.
But I know why.
Indeed, mademoiselle.
You found my motive.
Yes, yes, I have.
You've got Aunt Hester fully believing in you now, haven't you?
Easy, Marjorie.
In another minute, you'll be talking about forces and elementals
and heaven knows what.
You were saying it was a spirit hand that killed Mr. Stevens
because nobody else could have.
Please, Marjorie, brace up.
Someone's got to send for the police.
Why don't you send for the police, Ken?
Couldn't you help us there?
Help you? How?
Mr. Stevens said you knew the heads of the Sûreté.
He said you knew this man, Flamand,
who was supposed to be the greatest detective in France.
Oh, but this isn't French territory.
Monte Carlo is the independent state of Monaco.
I'm sorry, Marjorie.
Ordinarily, I might have helped.
You mean you won't help us?
I'm sorry, Marjorie. I can't.
Then I've got to help myself.
George Revelle, you killed Mr. Stevens.
But how?
Yes, how?
24 hours later, 24 hours of blind puzzling.
In the railway station at Nice, nine miles from Monte Carlo,
the night express for Paris is already underway.
The guard has blown his signal and the great wheels grind.
A young man, hatless and worried,
pushes through the crowd past the already moving train.
No, sir. It's broken. You're too late.
Too late? Nothing. I'm getting aboard this train.
Take care, sir. Take care.
I'm sorry to have caused you any trouble, guard.
But do you happen to know whether...
Marjorie!
Ken Blake! What are you doing on this train?
Exactly the question I wanted to ask you.
Walk along the corridor with me, will you?
All right.
Marjorie, you little idiot.
What's the idea of running away?
If it's any of your business, Mr. Blake, I'm not running away.
I'm merely going to Paris.
You were told to stay in Monte Carlo.
Don't you know you can land in jail for this?
They'll put you in jail too, won't they?
Yes, I suppose so.
But what's the idea of going to Paris?
First of all, I had to get Aunt Hester away from that man Revelle.
She really thinks he can call up ghosts now.
Is your aunt on this train?
Yes, in that compartment there.
Second, I'm going to Paris for some real help.
I'm going to the Suratay.
I'm going to see this man, Flamand.
You won't find Flamand in Paris, Marjorie.
And you'll certainly never get him to arrest Georges Revelle.
Oh? And why not?
Because, my dear idiot, Georges Revelle is Flamand.
What are you saying?
The man who calls himself Revelle is really Flamand,
the head of the whole French Detective Bureau.
He made me promise not to tell anybody.
Oh, then that's why you've been looking so guilty for two days.
Yes, I tried to tip you off today, but the police were with us all the time.
So he is a fake spiritual medium.
Mr. Stevens was right about that.
And I still say I'm right about the other thing.
Whoever he is, Revelle killed Mr. Stevens.
But how and why?
Oh, I don't know, this alleged detective.
Did he tell you why he was masquerading as a medium in Monte Carlo?
No. All I know is that we're in one sweet mess.
We've left town without permission.
They'll probably stop the train and send us back in a patrol wagon.
Oh, no, no, no, my friend. That won't be at all necessary.
Revelle?
Yes, mademoiselle. Revelle or Flamand.
Well, since you know me as Revelle, call me that.
You knew that I was on this train?
Oh, naturally.
Look here, old man.
I kept quiet about you because you swore it was a matter of life and death.
But will you answer a couple of questions now?
Oh, with pleasure.
Why did you pose as a medium?
Because the Monarchic government employed me to trap a murderer.
So I had to work out, you see, undercover.
All right. Why was Toby Stevens killed?
Stevens was killed because he was a blackmailer.
A blackmailer?
Yes, mademoiselle. Does that surprise you?
Yes. Oh, yes, of course. Very much.
I tried to warn Stevens, but the fool wouldn't listen.
And then, well, I wasn't quick enough.
Stevens was murdered, of course, by one of us four in the séance room.
Well, that's impossible.
Hmm? Impossible? Oh, no.
The trick was baffling because of its simplicity.
I'm sure you killed him.
One moment, mademoiselle.
Let me show you what I mean by trick baffling because it is so simple.
Take, for example, the pencil outlet drawn on a paper around the medium shoes.
Did Stevens tell you how I did that?
No. On this train two nights ago, he started to tell us...
Then he just stopped in the middle of it and left.
You see, the medium leaves his chair.
Well, he makes tambourines for rattle and ghost forms appear.
Yet the pencil outline is not disturbed.
Now, how does he manage it?
Well, how does he manage it?
Well, quite easily. He returns to his chair.
He turns over the two pieces of paper.
He takes another pencil and draws an outline of his shoes on the reverse side of the paper.
Well, you look at it.
And imagine it's the same outline we drew.
Precisely. So easily our people misled.
And it was the same way with a murder.
But there couldn't have been any trick about the murder.
None of us left the circle.
We were all clasping hands when we heard that scream.
Don't you agree?
Oh, yes, I agree.
I can't stand this any longer.
When we heard Mr. Stevens utter that horrible scream...
What makes you think it was Stevens who uttered that scream?
I beg your pardon.
What makes you think it was Stevens who screamed?
Well, or wasn't it?
Oh, you assumed it, yes.
We all assumed it.
But up to that time, Stevens wasn't even hurt.
Wasn't hurt?
You see, the source of sound cannot be located in the dark.
It was the murderer who uttered that appalling cry.
In a few seconds of darkness, before the lights went on,
the killers simply leaned across and drove that dagger into Stevens' chest.
And you proved that?
Yes. If Stevens had been hit at the time of the scream,
blood would have blotted out the spot of luminous paint.
Yet Marjorie Gray saw the paint shining after the scream.
That's true, Marjorie. I heard you say so.
You put the luminous paint there, Ravel.
You were the only person who touched him.
Oh, no. There was one other person who touched him.
Who was it?
Another person in full sight of you said Stevens had spilled broth on his coat
and swabbed at his chest with a handkerchief.
You mean...
I mean, of course, the real murderer.
Your Aunt Hester.
Yes, Marjorie. Your Aunt Hester.
Aunt Hester!
Keep back, all of you.
Oh, so you managed to find the revolver.
Marjorie, I poisoned your Uncle Paul.
I poisoned my husband, and Alex Stevens knew it.
You can't get away, Madame. Keep away from that door.
I never believed in spiritualism.
I let myself be influenced by a medium
because Alex Stevens would try to stop it.
He was getting money out of me. He wanted no other influence.
Don't open that door, Madame.
But I am opening it.
Aunt Hester, don't!
I told you I wasn't a fool as I looked.
I had the knife in my handbag.
Stop her, Kim. Stop her!
No!
Well, Mademoiselle...
She has committed many crimes,
but now she has paid for them all.
THE END
And so closes the moment of darkness,
starring Peter Lorre,
Wendy Berry,
with George Zuko.
Tonight's tale of...
Suspense.
This is your narrator, the man in black,
who conveys to you Columbia's invitation
to spend this half hour in suspense with us again next Tuesday,
when Agnes Moorhead and Ray Collins
will star in a study in terror
titled The Diary of Sophronia Winter.
The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear,
who with Ted Bliss, the director,
Wilbur Hatch, and Hushan Marowick, conductor and composer,
and John Dixon Carr, the author,
collaborated on tonight's...
Suspense.
This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.