Suspense.
This is the man in black, here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense.
Our stars tonight are Miss Agnes Moorhead and Mr. Ray Collins.
You have seen these two expert and resourceful players in Citizen Kane, the magnificent ambusand
in which Miss Moorhead's performance won her the 1942 Film Critics Award.
Mr. Collins will soon be seen in the Metro-Golden-Mayer Technicolor film,
Salute to the Marines.
Miss Moorhead and Mr. Collins return this evening to their first love,
the CBS Microphone, to appear in a study in terror by Lucille Fletcher called
The Diary of Sophronia Winters.
The story told by this diary is tonight's tale of Suspense.
If you've been with us on these Tuesday nights,
you will know that Suspense is compounded of mystery and suspicion,
dangerous adventure.
In this series, our tales calculated to entreat you,
to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation,
and then withhold a solution until the last possible moment.
And so it is with The Diary of Sophronia Winters
and the performances of Agnes Moorhead and Ray Collins,
we again hope to keep you in Suspense.
February 1st, St. Petersburg, Florida.
I, Sophronia Winters, have hereby begun this diary
because on this date I feel for the first time that I've begun to live.
Diaries are no good unless one has thrilling experiences.
For 40 years, I've never had what could really be called a thrilling experience.
But Papa's death has changed everything.
Here I am in beautiful St. Petersburg with every single person I know.
I'm a little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
little bit of a
you.
And I'm happy to CH resistance joy and that brings me back soon
in Dayton.
Yes?
Yes, I'm including
I'm leaving
but I want that
but I make it
make it
my life
let me
let me
House
make it
make it
make it
Yes.
Ma'am,
C!!
Hello,
Ma'am C!!
Hi this is Me Command.
I
it's
a
2
1
U
U
T
February 3rd.
Oh, diary, it is beginning.
This morning when I came out of my lodging house to go down to the beach,
I noticed a man, a thrilling looking man, sitting across the street on a bench.
It was just as though he were waiting for me because when I came out,
he sort of started up as though he knew me.
Of course I didn't speak first, but I knew the minute I started down the street
that he was following me.
Well, I got to the beach and sat down with my magazines,
and suddenly there he was, strolling toward me with a broad smile.
Well, sitting out here all by your lonesome?
Yes, yes I am.
Didn't I see you last night over at the Starfish Tea Room?
The Starfish Tea Room?
Oh yes, yes, I was there yesterday.
But it was so crowded, I'm afraid I don't recall.
Mighty nice cuisine they've got over there.
Mind if I sit down beside you?
Not at all.
Oh, just a minute, sit on this magazine. The beach is so sandy.
Oh, sand doesn't bother me. I'm from Maine, you know.
We get plenty of sand up there.
Do you?
You've been down here at St. Pete Long?
Oh, just three days.
Three days, that's a long time.
It's a wonder I didn't spot you before.
Oh, Mr. Pitt.
Johnson's the name, Hiram Johnson.
I come from Green Harbor, Maine. Run a big hotel up there summers.
Well, that's my whole history in a nutshell.
My name's Sopronia. Sopronia Winters.
Sopronia?
Well, you know, that's quite a coincidence.
My sister-in-law's name is Sopronia.
Oh?
Sopronia Johnson.
Ever heard of her?
She looked quite a bit like you, too.
Sopronia Johnson?
No, I'm afraid I haven't. Who was she?
Someone very famous?
I'm so ignorant about these things.
Oh, that's all right.
Say, look at that sun, will you?
I'd say it was pretty nearly time for lunch.
And, Iry, darling, he is wonderful.
Strong and kind, warm-hearted, so generous.
I don't want to be like the other silly women in this town, but Hiram is different.
There's something almost poetic about him, something sad and deep.
You know, Sopronia, it's kind of mysterious us finding that nine-point starfish on the beach together.
My sister-in-law, Sopronia, used to collect nine-point starfishes.
And, to think your name, Sopronia, and you find a nine-point starfish with me.
Well, it kind of draws us together, eh?
Huh? What do you think?
As though I'd known him all my life.
My landlady says it's foolish.
But look at Romeo and Juliet. Weren't they foolish?
What's the good of waiting, Sopronia?
I've got to be back at the hotel in a week. We may never see each other again.
Oh, Hiram, don't say that. I couldn't bear it.
Then let's do it right away. Tomorrow, there's a parson out on Coral Avenue who'll do the job for us.
We can take a nice moonlight drive out to the alligator farm afterward, have a nice shore dinner,
then climb on board the orange blossom tomorrow night from Maine.
Just think of Maine. The big dark pine woods, the sand, the bay.
The two of us alone together.
The two of us alone together.
February 7th, on board the orange blossom.
I was married in a wedding dress of Alice Blue Moire with a frill of white orchandy at the collar and wrists
and a rhinestone belt buckle. Hiram sent me towels and roses.
I'm pressing one precious flower between the pages of this diary for luck.
You'll see it beyond this bend in a couple of minutes.
Are the bags heavy?
No, not particularly, dearest. Oh, I can't get over that taxi man at the station.
Imagine his insolence saying he couldn't drive us over.
Maybe he didn't have any gas. It's happened sometimes around here.
Well, anyway, I'm glad the weather's so mild.
Can you imagine what it would be like in a blizzard?
There's the place.
Oh, wait a minute, wait a minute. I don't want to look until I put down these bags.
Now, where?
There, through those big pine trees.
Oh, oh, it is big, isn't it?
A hundred and twenty-five rooms.
So many fire escapes and balconies and porches and towers.
I, I stayed in a hotel like that once years ago with Papa. It was very fashionable then.
My grandfather built that place fifty years ago. Hasn't been changed much since.
No? Well, of course you've put in modern plumbing.
Not yet.
Here we are. Walk in.
Oh, what's that?
Just a foghorn out in the day.
Fog?
We get it almost every night in this kind of weather.
What are you locking the gate for?
Why not? There's nobody coming in after us. Or going out again for a while.
But I, I thought you said the hotel.
The hotel is empty.
Hiram.
What is it now?
Hiram, darling, I know it sounds silly, but let's not go in there tonight. Let's, let's wait until morning.
Why?
Oh, just because it's so dark and empty. There's not a light in the whole place and no one's expecting us.
What do we eat? Where do we sleep? Let's stay in the village just for tonight.
What do we eat? The place to sleep? Come on.
Oh, my arm. Hiram. Hiram.
Do you remember my telling you down in Florida about my sister-in-law, Sopronia?
Well, that's her over there on the wall.
Take a look at her.
Hiram, you hurt me.
Oh, well, the glass is very dusty.
She must have died many years ago.
But her face is sweet, very sweet.
And her eyes, there's something very sad and wistful about her eyes.
She was a murderess.
She was hanged in Portland 25 years ago for the murder of my brother, Ephraim, here in the lobby of this hotel.
She murdered him in cold blood with an axe.
That fire axe hanging over there on the wall.
Hiram.
Hiram, I'm sorry.
There were guests sitting out on the front porch in the rockers.
It was just after lunch.
My brother Ephraim was sitting at the desk counting his loose change.
My mother was crocheting in that old wicker rocking chair.
Sopronia came downstairs humming a hymn.
Oh, don't, Hiram. Please, please don't tell me anymore.
Why not?
Well, it makes me nervous to hear it like this in this big shadowy lobby.
And your eyes, Hiram. Your eyes.
Hiram, you're acting so strange.
Hiram, what's the matter with you, dear?
I know it was a terrible tragedy, but it happened 25 years ago.
Don't touch me, Sopronia.
Don't touch you.
Do you remember what I said to you in Florida?
What did you say?
You said a million sweet and wonderful things to me, Hiram.
I said you resembled my dead sister-in-law.
Look at her again.
Look at her closely, Sopronia.
But why?
Oh, no, no, I can't. It's too horrible.
I can't look at her face with any pleasure now knowing she was a murderess.
You're afraid to look, is that it?
No, no, I'm not afraid.
Hiram, Hiram, please, my arm.
Well, very well.
I'll look.
Now, stand there quietly like that.
Take off your glasses.
That's all I wanted to see.
That's all I wanted to see.
February 13th, Green Harbor Hotel, Maine.
I can't understand it.
I try to fathom it, but my headaches and my heart is heavy.
The hotel is deserted.
Has been for 25 years.
Everything is covered with spiders and cobwebs.
The great dining room with its oak woodwork is alive with rats.
And a row of broken rocking chairs on the front porch faces,
Emptily out to sea.
Does he mean this to be my home?
He's downstairs in the shabby parlor,
Off the lobby playing the harmonium.
The
Why is your door locked?
Come out.
I want to show you around the place.
It's all right, dear.
I've seen it.
I've seen just about everything.
No, you haven't.
You haven't seen the grounds at all.
The grounds?
But Hiram, it's after midnight.
I want to show you where my sister-in-law, Sophronia, is buried.
Not tonight, dear, please. It's so late and I have a headache.
Open the door, Sophronia. I want you to come now.
No, no, I can't.
Oh, go away, let me alone.
I won't. I won't, I won't.
No use carrying on like that.
You see, I have pass keys to all the doors.
Beyond, where those four birches are standing,
it's where my sister-in-law, Sophronia, was laid away 25 years ago.
It was the biggest funeral in the neighborhood.
Folks crowded outside the gate with the dozens trying to get a look,
but we wouldn't let them.
Buried her ourselves without a service out here by herself on the grounds.
Ephraim's buried in town, but not Sophronia.
I had a feeling I'd have to keep an eye on her even then.
Keep an eye on her?
I knew she was one of those restless sleepers
who wouldn't stay quiet in her own grave.
I knew before the year was out she'd find some way to start roaming around,
hunting for mischief again.
She was a young she-devil to the core, Sophronia.
They could hang her till doomsday.
Wouldn't do any good.
You mean... you mean to...
You think she haunts this hotel?
No, no, not this hotel.
She never had any use for it, alive or dead.
No.
She makes for the warmer climates.
She was always a cold-blooded little fish, freezing and shivering all the time.
Places like California and Texas,
and Florida, she makes for her.
Florida?
Yes, that's one of her favorite haunts.
Particularly around St. Pete.
She likes the flowers and the sun and the romance.
Hiram, I feel cold.
Do you mind if I go inside now?
Just a minute, just a minute.
I haven't explained everything.
You think I'm crazy, I guess.
Crazy.
But I'm a lot smarter than some people give me credit for.
Because, you see, I have found her now.
Three times.
You see that grove of birches over there?
Under every one of them is a grave.
I've found her wandering the earth in disguise.
Three times.
And I've killed her three times.
It still doesn't do any good.
She's still restless.
You... you mean you've... you've killed...
three different women?
So now I keep another open grave to remind her.
It's waiting now.
Would you like to see it?
Sophronia?
No, Hiram.
No, no, please, I...
Are you afraid to see it, Sophronia?
No, I...
Hiram, you don't mean to say that you think...
Just because my name happens to be Sophronia and that I look a little like...
Think what, Sophronia?
Nothing.
February 14th.
My mind is made up.
I've made a terrible mistake and I must get away from this place.
I must get away from Hiram as quickly as I can.
It should be easy.
There's no fog today.
If I can only escape from the hotel, I can run and hide in the pine woods.
No.
No.
I shall wait for dusk when he generally sits down in the parlor and plays the harmonium.
I can hide a little earlier in one of the deserted rooms
and then when his bag is toward the lobby, step out the front door.
Sophronia?
Sophronia?
Sophronia!
Oh, there you are.
What's the matter? Anything wrong?
No, Hiram.
You didn't want anything outside, did you?
Because if you do, you'll have to ask me to get it for you.
You see, I always keep the front door locked.
Yes, Hiram.
Yes, the back door too.
And all the doors leading out into the porches and fire escapes.
And a good many of the windows. It makes one feel safe from thieves and peeping toms.
Oh, you've got a cold. That's too bad.
Yes.
I must have caught it last night.
Outdoors, the dam.
You ought to be in bed. A good bed.
The only good bed in the house is in my sister-in-law Sophronia's old room.
No, no, Hiram. I'm all right. Is this a little head cold?
Oh, little head colds often develop into pneumonia.
Why, it's too bad I didn't think of that before.
You might have slept in it from the beginning.
Here, up these stairs.
What? What's the matter? Are you so weak?
No. No, I'm all right.
This room is the cleanest in the hotel, too.
I've always had a sort of suspicion about it.
You see, I've kept everything as it was.
What's the matter?
Nothing. I think it's just that...
It seems kind of familiar.
No, no, it's just that seeing it so clean, seeing it as though someone were living here,
as though it only just stepped out for a moment.
It's as she left it that afternoon when she walked down to murder my brother.
You see her needlework on the table with a needle sticking in it?
And her hymn book still open?
She was very fond of singing hymns, Sophronia was.
Had a nice voice, too. I used to accompany her.
I'll turn down the bed for you.
Then you can get undressed while I go and make you some hot tea.
No, I don't want any.
Here's the closet.
You can put on one of Sophronia's dressing gowns.
Dary, I'm beside myself.
I shall go mad. I shall go mad.
Two hours have passed since they locked the door upon me.
Night's fallen and I'm alone.
Alone in this horrible room with its hideous little momentals of death.
I'm sitting here at her little wicker table trying to become, trying to write this.
Somehow when one writes about a thing it doesn't appear so real.
My hand is just brushed against a needlework.
Her hymn book.
For they still lie, waiting.
I can bear having them near me no longer.
I must get them out of sight. Anywhere.
In that closet. A bureau door.
Ready for your tea?
No. Yes, Hiram.
Why aren't you in bed? You'll take worse cold, you know.
I'll get in bed in a minute. First I...
Oh! Brushing up on your needlework again?
My needlework?
You've got it in your hand.
Have I? Oh, yes. Yes, so I...
But I wasn't working on it, Hiram. I swear I wasn't.
I've never done a stitch of needlework in my whole life.
I don't know one embroidery stitch from another.
Let me show you. Look, I don't even know how to hold a needle.
Get into bed, Sophronia. You're feverish.
Before we go on, Hiram, before you go on thinking,
we've got to have an understanding. You've got to let me explain.
I was born in 1892 in Kalamazoo, Michigan.
My name is Sophronia, that's true, but they name lots of people Sophronia.
I was named for my grandmother. She had just died.
No, no, no, you've got to listen to me.
I've lived in Kalamazoo all my life.
If you'd only just write a letter or send a wire.
I've never heard of Green Harbor in my whole life.
I never went anywhere.
For almost ten years I stayed home day in and day out nursing Papa.
He had a stroke. I wasn't out of the house.
He was a red brick house with a green shot in it.
February 15th.
Now I live only from moment to moment.
Listening to each creak upon the stairs.
I've been in bed all day.
It's night now.
A foghorn has begun to blow again.
February 19th.
I woke up early this morning after a wretched night
and the date was burning in letters of fire in my brain.
If he's planning to kill me it'll be today.
But the hours have been crawling on.
It's almost midnight.
Oh why if he's going to kill me doesn't he do it at once?
Why does he torture me like this?
I'd rather be dead than sit here in this room one moment longer.
I can't bear it.
If he doesn't come in five minutes I shall force him to come.
I shall beat on the door.
No. No.
Rather let me sit quiet praying that he doesn't come.
Oh I want to live.
I want to live.
Sopronia.
It's come.
Sopronia.
Come downstairs.
I want you to sing me a hymn.
Sing?
Sing? He never asked me to sing for him before.
But she sang.
I can't sing dear.
I told you that long ago.
Did you?
Well I've forgotten.
And besides how can I come downstairs when my door is locked?
It's unlocked.
Try it.
Unlocked.
Oh no.
How could it?
Oh.
Oh it is. It is. And I never knew it. I never knew it.
Coming?
He unlocked it.
Sometime when I was just sitting. Oh why didn't I try a few more times?
Why did I just sit there assuming?
No. No he'd have caught me anyway. He'd have known.
But I might.
Oh now it's too late.
He's going to kill me.
Sopronia.
Yes Hiram.
I'm coming.
Hiram where are you?
In here.
In the parlor.
What are you doing there Hiram?
Waiting to hear you sing.
You're at the harmonium?
Yes.
All right. I'll sing.
I haven't sung in years but I might as well.
I'll sing for you out here in the hall.
My voice will carry better.
It always did carry better in the hall didn't it Sopronia?
So you remember that too.
Of course you know both the front and back doors are locked.
Play a few bars Hiram dear to warm me up.
Shall I sing too Sopronia?
Would you like me to sing along with you?
If it pleases you Hiram.
Work for the night is coming.
Work in the morning sun.
Work for the night is coming.
When man's work is done.
Work while the daylight darkens.
Work in the summer sun.
Work for the night is coming.
When man's work is done.
There's only one more page.
Shall I read it to you?
Yes. Yes go ahead.
March 22nd.
I've been sick I think for a very long time.
The pages of my diary are blank but I shall take you out again for a diary today and start you over again.
No.
No I shall never look back at the other pages.
I shall only write on and on about this beautiful place.
So that no one reading this diary will ever know that I did it.
But I did do it diary.
I was smarter than he.
When I opened that door at the head of the stairs and heard the music.
When I saw the fire axe still hanging on the wall.
I was so cautious.
So terribly cautious.
I tiptoed like a little mouse.
Even as I sang the hymn into that room where he was playing.
But I was clever.
So much cleverer than he.
I kept on singing.
And now I'm free.
Free as a bird.
I'm free and you shall never catch me now.
Not this time or ever again because.
Because he's dead.
Isn't he nurse?
Nurse.
Isn't my dear brother-in-law Hiram really dead?
Yes miss he's dead.
And now I'll thank you to hand me that diary.
The director doesn't approve of the patients writing anything.
And so closes the diary of Sopronia Winter starring Agnes Morehead and Ray Collins.
Tonight's tale of suspense.
This is your narrator the man in black who conveys to you Columbia's invitation.
Join this half hour in suspense with us again next Tuesday when Richard Dix, Gail Page and Montague Love star in Death Flies Blind.
The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear who with Ted Bliss the director,
and with the musical director Lucian Mahawick the composer and Lucille Fletcher the author collaborated on tonight's suspense.
This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.