Suspense.
This is the Man in Black, here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense.
From Hollywood tonight we bring you the noted British actor, Mr. Edmund Gwen, the star of
an unusual murder study by his distinguished compatriot, Miss Dorothy Sayers.
The story called The Fountain Plays is tonight's tale of suspense.
Currently appearing in the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer technical production, Lassie Come Home, following
such successes as foreign correspondent in the stage plays The Wookie and the Three Sisters,
it is Mr. Gwen's particular pleasure to embody on the stage and the screen the eternal middle
class Englishman, the common man of Britain, and proud of it.
The character Mr. Gwen portrays in our play tonight, Mr. Archibald Spiller, conservative
John Bull that he may be, has lately had a bit of luck.
Mr. Spiller lives on a little country estate with a cook and a manservant, and in the garden,
yes, a fountain.
Of all these little luxuries, it is the fountain which pleases him the most.
An interesting sort of hobby for such a man, a fountain, perhaps more interesting than
even Mr. Spiller himself realized at the beginning of that memorable evening.
These events were really quite unusual, and with their publication, and with the performance
of Mr. Edmund Gwen as Archie Spiller, we again hope to keep you in.
Suspense.
The Fountain Plays.
Now then, Mr. Spiller, what about it?
Have a cab of the fountain, Sam.
Get wet if you stand too close.
Fountain?
You and your plastic fountain wasting your money on a do-dead.
It's not expensive, Sam.
It's very ingenious, really.
You use the same water over and over again, you see?
Don't try and put me off.
What about it?
Well, I told you I'd talk to you about it later, the scene later.
Later?
Well, I want to talk about it now.
I want a straight answer to my question.
I've given you an answer.
Mr. Spiller, you've given me nothing but bluff and bluster.
Do I get it or don't I?
That's what I want to know, and if I don't...
Now, now, butch, please, please, my guests are arriving.
I'll talk to you tonight.
You'd better talk straight, too.
It'll be your last chance, Miller.
Hello!
Hello, everybody!
They're just in time for a cocktail.
Come in, come in.
Master Seb would find you here, Daddy.
I hope we're not interrupting.
Certainly not.
Certainly not.
You know Mr. Gooch, don't you, my dear?
Of course.
And this, sir, this is my neighbor, Mrs. Digby, Mr. Gooch.
How do you do, Mr. Gooch?
Uh...
I'm Ronald Prowford, my daughter's fiance.
How do you do, sir?
How do you do?
Do help yourselves, everybody.
You'll find all the fixings right there on the stone setting.
Oh, yes.
Betty, you play hostess, will you, dear?
All right, Dad.
I'll take mine neat.
I'm just showing Mr. Gooch the wonders of my little fountain.
Oh, Daddy, you do make such a fuss over that fountain.
Oh, well, even so, I always say that there's nothing quite like a bit of ornamental water
to set a place up.
Sort of like the Versailles Gardens, what?
Oh, it's really lovely, Mr. Stiller.
And so secluded with the rhododendrons and the lilac hedge all around.
Ah, you like that, eh?
Oh, you know, I was thinking of cutting out some of these lilacs.
Oh, I wouldn't.
Well, to make a vista, so to speak.
You can't even see it from the house with these bushes on all four sides.
Well, now, perhaps that might add something.
But if you like the lilacs, Mrs. Digby, the lilacs shall stay.
Oh, Mr. Stiller.
I'm no authority, I'm sure.
Well, if you want an authority, I'd say it's a mess.
Plus the backstop and all.
A mess, see?
A mess?
Yes, a mess.
Oh, maybe Mr. Gooch means the way the backstop arches up above the stray.
It rather overshadows it, you know.
Oh, I have to have that, you know, my dear.
Prevailing winds from the south.
Loads of the jet of water right out onto the grass.
If it weren't for that backstop, I'd have a regular swamp over there, wasteful, too.
Well, I'm glad I know that.
You always were a fool, aren't you, squandering money on a fountain?
Oh, no, no, no, indeed.
It uses the same water over and over again.
Like the ones in Trafalgar Square, you know.
Most ingenious, really.
Why, isn't that a wonderful idea?
Well, I have to be careful, of course, even so.
Turn it off every night to save leakage and waste and so on.
Same old Spiller.
A proper miser, if ever there was one.
Oh, I see now.
Mr. Spiller, sir.
Yeah?
The dinner is, sir.
What? Oh, thank you, master, thank you.
Well, what do you say?
Everybody ready for a bit of dinner?
Hey, are you going then, chubby?
Come on, let's go in there.
I got it, I got it.
You'll get some later.
Why, Mr. Spiller, your modest little fountain.
When you're past the bushes, by all at once you can scarcely hear it at all.
Yes, quite impossible to hear it from the house.
Can't hear it at all.
Another glass of wine.
Won't you have one here?
What is it, masters?
Will that be all then, sir?
Yes, thank you, masters, yes.
Excellent dinner.
My compliments to the cook, please.
Yes, sir.
And coffee in the drawing room.
Very good, sir.
Well, shall we adjourn?
Shall we what?
Ajourn.
Going to the drawing room, what?
Quite a tough you've become, eh, Archie?
Big change from the old days.
Ajourn to the drawing room.
Yes, yes.
Well, we'll all have a spot of coffee now, eh?
Coffee?
Is that the best you've got to offer?
Oh, no, by no means.
Have anything you like, old man.
That's better.
What would you think, Mr. Spiller,
about a rubber or two of bridge?
Oh, excellent suggestion. Splendid.
Good thing I don't play, eh, Archie?
I see I'm counted out before we start.
Oh, Mr. Gooch, I'm so sorry.
Do take my place.
I'm really very tired.
No, thanks.
We didn't play bridge where I come from,
and neither did Archie.
Although I see he picked it up quick enough once he got...
Well, it's never too late to learn, you know.
I've got better ways than that to spend my time
when I visit an old pal.
Where's that fellow Masters?
Was there something you wished, sir?
Oh, well, take the whiskey and soda down by that fountain.
Whiskey and moonlight and jolly old fountain.
That's the proper way to spend an evening, eh, my lad?
Uh, quite, sir.
Mind you bring the full decanter.
One drink's only a starter for a chap like yours truly.
Very good, sir.
While I'm at it,
I'd better take a few of these here coronas.
Only the best for your old pals, eh, Archie?
Yes, yes.
See you folks later.
See you later on.
Oh, Mr. Digby,
shall it be you and me against the youngsters?
Daddy.
Yes, dear?
Will you tell me why you put up with that man?
Gooch? Oh, come.
He's not a bad sort, really.
Had a drop too much this evening, perhaps.
He always has a drop too much.
And he is a bad sort.
He's a rude, unpleasant, terrible man.
Well, old friend, you know, not much a chap can do.
Oh, Daddy, you're so soft-hearted.
But if you can't do anything, I can.
Now, please, dear, please, he'll be gone in a day or two.
Right time.
What does he mean, talking to you that way in your own home?
Uh, shall we, uh, cut for deal?
Yes, shall I, uh...
Well, I don't care.
Beshant put me off.
This is the last time that man is going to come into this house.
There you are.
Game and rubber.
I guess you folks aren't so slow after all, eh, partner?
Now, don't get Daddy all puffed up.
You did have all the cards.
Oh, not a bit of this.
Jolly well played, sir.
Say one more.
Oh, I'm afraid not.
I don't want to put a damper on the party, but it's 10.30.
My word so it tears.
Last hour or so passed in no time.
Oh, that's probably Mr. Gooch.
Wonder where he is.
I could guess.
He said he was going out by the fountain.
Dead to the world, that's what he is.
Why, Betty.
Oh, from drinks, silly.
Oh, of course.
Well, I'm not superstitious, you know, but...
Oh, Gooch will take care of himself, I dare say.
Why, Mrs. Digby, if you really must?
I'm afraid I really must.
Well, then perhaps I can see you home.
Well, if it wouldn't be inconvenient.
Oh, not a bit of it.
It's a pleasure I've been looking forward to all the evening.
Well, here we are.
Yes.
It's been such a lovely evening, Mr. Spiller.
Yeah, you know, I've been thinking...
I'm awfully lucky to have found a neighbour like you...
at my time of life, I mean.
Maybe it's not luck at all.
It's fate, you mean, eh, Mrs. Digby?
Hmm?
Or may I... may I call you Rosalind?
Of course.
And you call me Archibald, eh?
Silly name, but it's the only one I've got there.
All right.
You know, it was true what I said tonight...
that the place will be needing a new hostess soon.
With Betty getting married, you mean?
You must be very happy for her.
I am, I am, but what I mean is...
I mean that, well, we're both alone in the world now and...
Yes?
Rosalind, there's something I want to talk to you about soon.
I can't just now.
There are arrangements I have to make, but...
but I do want to talk to you really seriously.
Well, I'll always be here, you know.
But it's late now.
Yes, yes, it is.
Good night, Rosalind. It has been a lovely evening.
Good night, Archibald.
Hello, Masters. Tell me, where's everybody?
Mr. Ronald left five or ten minutes since, sir...
and Miss Elizabeth has retired.
Oh.
Well, has Mr. Gooch come in yet?
I couldn't say, sir. Shall I go to see?
No, no, no, never mind. You can cut along to bed now.
I'll lock up.
Very good, sir.
Over the way, Masters. Is the fountain turned off?
Yes, sir. I turned it off myself at half past ten...
seeing you were engaged.
Oh, fine, fine. Well, good night, Masters.
Good night, sir.
Oh, hello there.
Just coming out to look for you, Gooch.
Hello.
Have a nice evening?
A nice evening.
Not as nice an evening as you had with the obliging little widow, eh?
No, no, that's enough of that now, sir.
Oh, it is, is it? That's enough, is it?
That's a good one.
Would you think I am talking to me like that? One of your ruddy servants?
Well, I'm not. I'm the boss here. Get that into your head.
I'm the boss, and you know it.
All right, all right.
But buzz off to bed now, like a good fellow.
It's getting late, and I'm tired.
Oh, you don't.
You think I'm drunk, don't you?
Well, I'm not drunk enough so I don't remember the little business I've got with you.
Well, can't we talk about it in the morning?
No. We'll talk about it right now.
I'm short of cash. It's high time you kicked in with some more.
Now, look here, Sam. I pay you your allowance as we agreed,
and you stay here whenever you like, but that's all.
Oh, it is, is it?
Getting pretty iron mighty, aren't you, number 4132?
Sam, quiet, for heaven's sake.
You're in a fine spot to tell me what you're going to do, aren't you?
Quiet the servants, my dear. Quiet Betty, my dear, or Ronald Fatdoodle, whatever his name is.
Sam, you're drunk. Sure I'm drunk.
I'm not an escaped jailbird, am I?
I'm not liable to be all back to work out ten years' odd labor for forgery, am I?
Listen, Sam, listen, I'll give you a little extra, just this once.
When I think a man like me that was only in for the short stretch anyway,
worked it out all good and proper, depended on the charity, mind you, of a pal what's rolling in wealth.
I'm not rolling in wealth, and you know it.
But if you'll promise me faithfully that this is the last time...
Sure I'll promise. For an old pal I'll promise anything.
You just give me 5,000 down.
Five thousand?
That's right. I've got a great opportunity. All I need is a little ready cash.
Now, don't be an idiot, Sam. What do you think I'm going to lay hands on that much, just like that?
I'll give you a check for 500.
Oh, trying to rend it on your old pal, eh? I said 5,000 and 5,000 it is,
or you'll find yourself back on the rock pile, see?
I tell you, I haven't got it.
Haven't got it? You've got enough to go buying fancy fountains, playing around with a widow next door.
Now you leave Mr. Digby out of this.
I'll leave around a bit, all right? I'll leave the old pastry to you.
What?
I told you that was enough of that, and I meant it.
Now pull yourself together and go to bed.
Go on. I'll talk to you in the morning.
You hear me, Sam?
Sam. Yeah, come on. Come on.
I didn't hit you that hard, you know.
Go on. Get up on your feet now, Sam. Go on.
Sam. Sam.
Sam.
It is head on the corner of the table.
Phew. No blood.
Now there it is, just over the temple.
Soft, spongy.
Mr. Gooch's fall had made quite a racket, too.
Somebody must have heard it.
They'd be calling out in a moment.
Footsteps coming down to find out what's the matter.
Have to think fast.
What was that?
Oh, just the old clock.
Nobody on this side of the house, anyway.
Nobody could have heard.
Steady now and face the facts.
He's dead. Murdered.
Oh, it didn't feel like murder,
but the police won't care about that.
First off, they'll take fingerprints, and then...
If I could make them suspect somebody else,
confuse them.
An alibi. Yes, that's what's needed.
An alibi.
Make it seem he was alive
when he was already dead.
Yes.
How do they do it in the stories?
Dress up like the dead man and impersonate him.
No, no, no, you imitate him,
speaking over the phone, or...
No, you make a gramophone record of his voice,
or you forge a letter.
Oh, no, no, no, forgery.
No, I don't want to get mixed up in that old game again.
No, no, no, no, no.
Oh, wait a minute, though.
The time.
The time. Earlier, not later.
Say 10.30, while everyone was playing bridge.
If he could have died some time before that.
But how to prove it?
What happened at 10.30?
10.30.
Think. Think.
The fountain.
Yes, the fountain.
Mr. Spiver went out to the French windows to the garden,
then turned on the fountain,
then down the garden path.
Stopped and called a name.
A name.
Sam!
Gooch!
Gooch!
Doing...careful with the flashlight.
They can't hear the fountain from the house,
but they can see that.
Ah, there's the whiskey.
Still half full.
Pour most of it out,
so that it will look as though we had even more to drink.
Now back to the house.
That'll do.
Now back into the house.
Looked for him and didn't find him.
It was dark. The moon had gone down.
But from now on, quiet.
Quiet as he is, lying over there.
The wheelchair.
The whole closet.
The wheelchair used to be Mrs. Spillers.
Remember how she...
No, no, not time to think of that now.
Just left him into it.
Who would have ever thought old Sam was so heavy?
Now out the other door.
But quietly this time.
Down the back path.
Carefully.
Feel like running.
Feel as though every window in the house
were thronged with white staring faces.
Watching, watching.
The manufacture of an alibi.
Here we are.
Now to lift him up again.
There.
Laying down on the edge of it.
One hand in the water.
The bruise on his head right up against the stone corner of the basin.
There.
What's that?
He's alive.
Gooch is alive.
After all that trouble.
After committing practically the perfect crime.
He's alive.
Sam!
What?
Bring him to life again?
More black bail for the rest of her life?
What about Mrs. Digby?
Rosalind?
What about Betty?
She at least deserves something better.
Murder?
All right, murder.
He's dead already as far as the rest of the world is concerned.
Now!
What are you saying?
Now or never.
His face is right by the water's edge.
Push him under.
Now!
Now!
And so it's done.
Remorse?
Why remorse?
Does the mouse feel remorse that the cat is killed?
Does the prisoner feel remorse when he leaves his prison?
No.
No, it's done.
And well done.
Nothing left but the finishing touches now.
Take back the wheelchair.
Let the fountain run another hour.
And then to bed.
And when the police come in the morning,
the perfect crime.
Remorse?
Nonsense.
Congratulations would be more like it.
Yes, congratulations, Mr. Spiller.
Inspector Frampton, sir.
Oh, yes, come in, Inspector. Come in.
I hate to trouble you, Mr. Spiller.
Regulations, you know.
Of course, of course.
Everyone here who was present the night of the...
that is, last night.
Yes, Inspector, yes.
Mrs. Digby, my neighbor, my daughter Elizabeth,
her fiance, Mr. Ronald Prowfoot,
and the servants, of course.
Excellent.
Well, now if you'll all bear with me,
I have to ask you all a few questions, you know.
But, Inspector, it was...
That's what we have to find out.
You know, there was a blow on the head.
Oh.
Now, as I understand it,
the deceased was last seen alive at about 8.30,
just after dinner.
Let me see you.
You were the last to see him, amen, amen?
Yes, sir.
I believe so, sir.
You took the whiskey and soda down to the fountain in the garden
and left it there with Mr. Gooch.
And that was the last time he was seen alive by any of you, eh?
Yes, yes.
The four of you then played cards, I believe.
Yes.
Until what time?
Oh, about 10.30.
And no one left the room during those two hours?
No, no, no.
And, Mr. Spiller,
you accompanied Mrs. Digby to her home.
Yes.
Is that correct, Mrs. Digby?
Yes, Inspector.
Now, when you returned,
you were met in the hall by Masters.
Yes.
What time was that, Masters?
About 10.45, sir.
And Mr. Spiller at that time inquired after Mr. Gooch?
Yes, sir.
He asked if I had seen him,
and as I had not, he suggested a nitric tire,
that he himself would lock the house.
And the others had all left?
Yes, sir.
That is to say, Mr. Ronald had left.
I heard him drive off in his car,
and Miss Elizabeth had retired.
Then you were alone in the downstairs part of the house.
Is that so, Mr. Spiller?
Yes.
You tell me, please, what you did then.
Well, I was worried about Gooch.
He'd been drinking quite a lot,
and so I went to look for him.
Went down to the end of the garden by the fountain.
You didn't go through the lilac hedge to the fountain?
No, no. It was dark by then. I couldn't see.
I called Gooch several times.
Did anyone here, here, Mr. Spiller, call?
Oh, I did, sir.
I was half asleep, as you might say.
But I did hear Mr. Spiller call out.
And then what did you do, Mr. Spiller?
I came back into the house,
sat up in the library, read for a while,
and about one o'clock I went to bed.
Now, now this is very important.
Who turned off the fountain?
I did, sir.
At what time?
At ten-thirty, sir.
You're quite sure of that?
Yes, sir. It was the usual time.
I see. And no one would have turned it on again, of course.
I can't think why, sir.
Ah. Well, I think that makes everything very clear, Mr. Spiller.
Yes, yes.
When the body was found,
it was still wet from the spray of the fountain.
Therefore, death must have occurred
some time before the fountain was turned off at ten-thirty.
And as all of you here were occupied till then,
from the time the deceased was last seen alive...
Accident, of course. I said so from the beginning.
Well, it might have been either, you know.
There had been a blow and there was water in the lungs.
And when the man apparently fell due to his intoxicated condition,
struck his head, falling into the water,
from which he was unable to rest himself.
Well, seems to be the obvious conclusion, doesn't it?
Poor fellow.
Well, thanks, everyone.
I don't think we shall have to trouble you again, Mr. Spiller.
Well, I hope not. And thank you, Inspector.
It is the verdict of the coroner, township of Alton,
county of Hampshire,
that in the case of the deceased Samuel Gutch,
death was due solely to accidental causes.
Oh, Daddy, I'm so glad. I was afraid for a while.
Oh, there was nothing to be afraid of there.
Poor old Gutch just lost his footing and fell, that's all.
I know. I was afraid of him.
Of him?
I know it was silly, but he was so strange.
I thought he had some sort of hold over you.
Oh, nonsense, darling. Just an old friend.
And I am a sentimental old fool.
You are an old dear. But I've got to run now.
What, off at Ronald?
Uh-huh.
Daddy, are you going to be off here lonely when I've gone?
Oh, you know I'll miss you.
Maybe Mrs. Digby.
Now, now, now, my darling.
Oh, she's such a darling.
Oh, she is rather nice, isn't she? In fact, I,
I thought I might pop over to see her this afternoon,
as long as you're going to be out.
Daddy, I knew it. I won't keep you another second.
I'll ask her over to dinner.
Well, perhaps I shall. You be on time, though.
I will. Bye.
Bye.
Beg pardon, sir.
Huh? Oh, Master, yes?
If it's convenient to you, sir,
I should like to have my bedroom changed.
Hmm?
I should like to sleep in doors in the main house.
Oh?
Why that, Master?
I'm a very light sleeper, sir, and noises keep me awake.
Noises?
The weather vane, sir, above the garage.
When the wind changes, it creeps.
Well, a little oil perhaps would suit.
I hardly think that would do, sir.
Because when the wind changes, there are other noises.
They can be most disturbing, sir.
What other noises?
The fountain, sir.
Fountain?
Yes, sir.
Ordinarily, I'm quite unable to hear it,
any more than you can in the main house, sir.
But when the wind is from the west,
the faster back stop acts quite like a sounding board
in the direction of my room, sir.
In fact, I can hear not only the fountain itself,
but I can hear even the faintest noises in the grove,
around it, quite clearly.
I see.
Quite, sir.
For instance, on the night Mr. Gooch sustained
his unfortunate accident,
the wind changed a little after eleven.
The weather vane awakened me, and then I heard the fountain.
I seem to hear other noises too, if I may say so, sir.
You heard?
Yes, sir.
I might add that after hearing the police inspector's observations,
I took the precaution of pressing your dinner jacket.
The sleeve seemed quite wet, sir.
Oh.
Yes, yes, yes.
I think, sir, all things taken into consideration,
you might find it worth your while to retain me permanently in your service,
at, shall we say, double my present wage, for now.
Eh?
Oh.
Oh, yes, yes, of course.
I'm very much obliged to you, sir.
Is there anything else, sir?
No.
No, nothing else.
I'm, uh, going to sit here by the fountain.
Very ingenious.
The fountain?
Yes.
Yes, most ingenious, my fountain.
Costs so little to run, because it uses the same water over and over again.
Over and over again.
Over and over again.
And so closes the fountain play starring Edmund Gwen
and the Dorothy Sayers story, which was tonight's tale of
Suspense.
The producer of these broadgasses, William Spear, who with Ted Bliss director,
Bernard Herman and Lucy Ann Marroway,
conductor and composer, and Robin L. Richards, the radio author,
collaborated on tonight's Suspense.
And now CBS is pleased to announce that starting next week at the same time,
Mr. Robert Young will begin a brand new series entitled Passport for Adams.
Passport for Adams will bring you each week the adventures of an American
newspaper reporter among the people of the United Nations.
Next week's broadcast will be written and directed by Norman Colwin with music
by Bernard Herman and the stars, we've said, will be Robert Young.
This is your narrator, the man in black, who invites you to be with us for
Suspense one week from Saturday at 730 to 8 Eastern wartime and from 8 to 830
Pacific wartime when with Miss Agnes Moorhead and with a repeat performance by
popular request of the play called Sorry, Wrong Number.
We again hope to keep you in Suspense.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.