Suspense!
Presented by Roma Wines, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
Salute!
Your health, sir.
Roma toast the world.
The wine for your table is Roma, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
This is the Man in Black, here for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California, to introduce
this weekly half hour of Suspense!
Tonight in Hollywood, Roma brings you as star Mr. Peter Lorre.
The Suspense play which stars Mr. Lorre, and which is produced and directed by William
Spear is called Back for Christmas.
In this series, Roma brings you tales calculated to intrigue you, stir your nerves, to offer
you a precarious situation, and then withhold the solution until the last possible moment.
And so with Back for Christmas, and with the performance of Peter Lorre, we again hope
to keep you in Suspense!
Yes, Maria?
What on earth are you doing down here in the cellar?
Oh, just doing a little digging.
And why, may I ask, have you chosen this day of all days to dig up the cellar floor?
Oh, I thought because the weather has been so damp, this would be a good time to plant
that little devil's garden I told you about.
Devil's garden?
Whatever nonsense is that?
Don't you remember that was my little joke about it?
You see, I've managed to get hold of the spores of several unclassified wild orchids.
In their wild state, they bloom under damp masses of leaf mold.
The South American Indians call them devil flowers because they appear to bloom under
the ground.
Well, I'm sure the South American Indians would be very interested if you succeed in
growing these ridiculous flowers under the cellar floor.
Whom else it will interest, I can't imagine.
Oh, what's that terrible smell?
Oh, that's the leaf mold, chemically, identically with the earth blanket they grow under in
their wild state.
And I want to get these started before we close the house.
Do you realize that we're sailing for America a week from today and you've made no arrangements
whatever?
Unless you call digging a hole in the cellar making arrangements.
I certainly don't.
Devil's garden, indeed.
Sometimes I think you're going soft in the head, Hubert.
Oh, I suppose it is inconsiderate of me.
You see, I've been wanting to try this experiment for a long time, but with all those lectures
and seminars at the university, there never seemed to be enough time.
Well, there certainly isn't any time for it now.
I suppose you've forgotten I made an appointment for you at the barbers this afternoon.
Must I shave my beard off, Hermione?
I thought we'd been through all that.
Of course you must.
They don't wear beards in America.
Bad enough you're speaking with that accent.
They'll probably think we're Germans as it is.
Oh, I should think it would be quite easy just to explain it, I'm Swiss.
Now, Hubert, don't be argumentative.
Go and get your jacket on and do as I tell you.
Yes, Hermione.
And don't forget to take your umbrella.
It looks like rain.
Yes, Hermione.
And don't look so put-upon, Hubert.
Someone has to plan things in this house.
Never even get to the university in time for your lectures, much less make arrangements
for a trip to America.
I know, but what about my specimens?
There'll be plenty of time to plant your precious devil's garden when we get home from America.
We're not going to be gone forever, you know.
We'll be back here for Christmas.
Yes, of course.
Back for Christmas.
I've forgotten.
We'll try to remember it.
And if you can't do that, just do as I tell you.
I've been making the plans in this house for 20 years.
And if there's any digging to be done, I'll manage that as well.
You understand, Hubert?
Yes, Hermione.
Good.
Now, you have just 20 minutes to clean up this mess down here and keep your appointment
at the barbers.
And when you're finished there, I want you to come straight home.
All right.
Oh, oh, oh.
I'll go up at Miss Markham's and pick up some books I ordered.
Well, all right.
But don't loiter there the whole afternoon moiling over those old books the way you usually
do.
Now hurry and clear up this rubbish.
Get rid of that smelly stuff.
And no more digging, my joke.
No more digging.
I'll show her.
I'll have my devil's garden and if I... no more digging, eh?
No more digging.
Oh, 15 men on a dead man's chest.
Yoo-hoo!
You'll win a battle of the run.
Good evening, sir.
Good evening, Miss Markham.
Why, it is Professor Schumacher, isn't it?
Do you like me better this way?
You look ever so much younger without the beard.
Twenty years at least.
Twenty years.
Oh, you'll be glad to know those books you ordered have finally arrived.
Twenty... oh, yes, the books.
Let me see, the Phytotomy of Phthaloid Gametophytes and Coniferous Shrubs of North America.
Those are the ones you ordered, aren't they?
Oh, really good.
Yes, thank you.
You're very kind, Miss Markham.
Why kind, Professor Schumacher?
Well, not many young ladies in bookshops would go out of their way to look up a rare books
for an old professor of botany.
Why, you're not old, Professor Schumacher.
Really, you look...
What do I look like?
And besides, I adore botany.
It's my particular hobby.
Oh, really?
You've never told me that before, Miss Markham.
Well, I was afraid to.
You look so imposing with the beard and all.
Oh, Miss Markham, forgive me if this sounds foolish, but since talking with you today,
I feel that shaving off my beard is the most important thing I've done for twenties.
Oh, it is.
I'm sure it is.
For twenties.
I'm so sorry that I've been so distant with you all this time.
Oh, there were times when I almost spoke up.
Times when you came in here, tired, after a day with your students at the university.
You seem so alone, the way I'm alone in the world.
I'd like to have asked you to stay a while and talk with me, but some way or other, I
always wound up giving you your change and letting you go on your way.
Say you, you're alone in the world?
Since my father died.
Oh, Miss Markham, did you never think of marrying?
My father was a very remarkable man.
I never found anyone who seemed to measure up to what he led me to expect of men.
Miss Markham.
Oh, it's been so long since anyone called me by my first name.
I'd like you to, if you want to.
It's Marion.
Marion.
Oh, how nice.
And yours?
Well, Hubertus, but in English, Hubert sounds better.
How long have you been alone, Hubert?
Alone?
I knew you were a widower, of course.
The first time I saw you.
A widower?
I can always tell.
There's a certain sadness in a man's eyes, a sweet sadness, I think, when he's been married
and then lost.
A widower.
I never thought of it in quite that way.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have been talking like this, I suppose, but I've often wondered what she must
have been like.
Your wife, I mean.
Hermione?
Not an easy woman to forget.
Very strong.
Always managing things.
The house, my wardrobe, my friends.
Even when we dined at a restaurant, she even then ordered my food.
She was always managing things.
Her whole life.
Managed herself to death.
Poor woman.
She must have loved you very much.
But you needn't have put herself out so.
It's plain to see you don't need things managed for you.
No.
You need companionship, I think.
I'm sympathetic with your work.
But the last thing on earth you need is a manager.
How well you put it.
The last thing on earth.
Operator.
Operator, are you there?
I'm still waiting on that call to Salisbury.
Well, put them on quickly.
Hello?
Is this Paul Houlton, sons?
It's Mrs. Hubert Schumacher.
Did you receive my letter?
Good.
Now, remember, we'll be back for Christmas and I want the job done without fail.
What's that?
No.
No, I'm sure he doesn't suspect anything.
Send it to me in New York as I instructed you.
Addressed in my name, of course.
Yes.
I've already put them in the mail.
You'll get them tomorrow.
Thank you.
Thank you so much.
Oh, here you are, Hubert.
Where have you been?
Oh, back stairs.
I dismissed the servants.
Dismissed the servants?
Mm-hmm.
But I've asked some friends of mine into a farewell lunch and go and tell them it's
a mistake.
Well, I'm afraid it's too late now.
They've packed and gone.
You have messed things up properly.
How many times have I told you to leave things to me?
I make the plans around here.
Yes, Hermione.
You have to do better than this when I plan the trip home or we'll never in the world
be back for Christmas.
Back for Christmas.
Back for Christmas.
Must you keep saying that?
Why not?
We are coming back for Christmas, aren't we?
Oh, supposing I were offered a professorship in one of those wealthy American universities.
Nonsense.
Americans care nothing for botany.
Well, Luther Burbank was an American, wasn't he?
That's different.
What have you ever done except muck around in the dirt with a lot of roots and tubers?
Well, they asked me to lecture, didn't they?
All right.
All right.
Now, there's no use getting yourself in a state about this, Hubert.
No doubt this extra money will come in very handy when we arrive back for Christmas.
Back for Christmas, I know.
Precisely.
No good to make a joke of it.
Heaven knows where you'd be today if I hadn't got a sense of time.
Yes, Hermione.
And as you've been so foolish as to dismiss the servants, you may empty the ashtrays and
straighten up this room while we're waiting for the guests to arrive.
I'm going in to have my bath.
Call me when they get here.
Marion, it's Hubert.
No, no, darling.
No, nothing is wrong.
My plans are the same, unless you have changed.
No?
We'll meet in New York then and be married there.
I'll explain to you why later.
You just have to trust me.
Yes.
Yes, madame.
Hubert?
I'm so sorry.
I can't talk any longer.
Yes, I'll meet you in New York without fail.
Au revoir, madame.
Hubert, were you talking on the phone just now?
Yes, yes, Hermione.
Whoever was it?
Oh, Freddie.
Freddie Sinclair.
Didn't I hear you say something about meeting somebody in New York?
Why, yes.
Freddie said he might possibly get over there before we even leave.
And I said, of course, we'd meet him there if he decided to go.
That seems very peculiar.
But then all of your friends are peculiar.
Yes, Hermione.
And just look at your jacket.
Have you been digging in that cellar again?
Yes, Hermione.
Well, there's no need for it.
You can't possibly get that devil's garden thing finished before we sail for America.
Go and change your clothes before the guests arrive.
Oh, never mind.
I see somebody coming up the walk now.
Go and let them in.
Yes.
Uh, Hubert.
Yes?
Look out the window.
There's Professor and Mrs. Goodenow, but who's that with them?
Well, who...
Precisely.
Freddie Sinclair.
Peculiar.
You should have been talking to him on the phone not three minutes ago, and now here
he is.
Yes, isn't him?
But then, as you see, Hermione, all of my friends are peculiar.
Not half so peculiar as you.
Digging in the cellar the very day we leave for America.
Just look at yourself.
And now that I think of it...
Yes?
Oh, never mind.
Go and let them in.
Oh, you were going to ask me something, Hermione, about the hole I'm digging in the cellar.
Good heavens, stop rolling your eyes about that way.
One would think you were digging a grave down there instead of a storage bin.
Yes, Hermione.
What's that?
I said, yes, Hermione.
Father, open the door and please stop saying yes, Hermione.
I think, my dear, I have said it for the last time.
A professor of botany, his loving wife, and an oblong pit in the cellar, just the right
size for his botanical specimens, his devil's garden.
With these ingredients for a story of a perfect crime, Back for Christmas by John Collier
and starring Peter Lorre, the Roma Wine Company closes the curtain for a moment on another
breathless study in suspense.
In this brief intermission in the play, it's pleasant to think about the holidays.
Not everyone celebrates the holidays against a background of snow and pine trees.
Somewhere south of the Gulf in the Caribbean, in a gracious home surrounded by palm trees
and the warm sun, you might find holiday dinners ending this way.
One moment, please.
Our North American guest wishes to propose a toast.
Yes, mis amigos.
I drink a toast in gratitude to you for your gracious hospitality and the enjoyment you've
given me, an American so far from home.
It is only a fair exchange, my friend.
This wine in which you drink your toast, it brings enjoyment to us from your country,
from America.
It is Roma wine made in your own California.
Yes, and when you choose the wine for your holiday table, remember this.
Only a few wines are so fine that many countries of the world import them.
And among these greatly enjoyable wines are the wines of Roma, R-O-M-A, made in California
for enjoyment throughout the world.
Yet here in America, we are truly fortunate, for we may buy Roma wines at a very low cost
since we don't have to pay import duty or costly shipping charges.
So serve Roma wine with pride on any and all holiday occasions.
And Roma too for everyday dinners, you can afford to.
Ask your dealer tomorrow for your favorite Roma wine, America's largest selling wine.
But before you buy wine, buy War Bonds.
And now it is with pleasure that we bring back to our sound stage Mr. Peter Lorre in
Act Two of Back for Christmas, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Back for Christmas.
Back for Christmas.
Hermione was so positive we would be back for Christmas that last afternoon, pouring
tea out for a few friends who had come in to see her last-minute farewells, she kept
reiterating it.
Now mind you, Hermione, don't let those Americans lure your husband with one of their
fat university jobs.
We absolutely must have you with us for Christmas.
He shall be back, I promise you.
Well, it's not absolutely certain, of course.
Hubert, now what do you mean it's not certain?
Of course it's certain.
After all, Hubert's old boy, you've consented to lecture for only three months.
Oh, that's quite right, but then of course anything may happen.
Hubert adores being unpredictable.
Now what other man would decide the day, the very day mind you, before leaving for America
to dig a great hole in the floor of the cellar?
In the cellar?
Yes.
He's going to put some unclassified wild orchids down there.
A devil's garden, if you please.
It sounds so mysterious.
That's Hubert, though.
It's really quite simple, however, once you find out what he's up to.
Now take the telephone call he put through to you a few minutes ago, Freddy.
To me?
Of course.
Now Hubert wanted to surprise me about your plan to meet us in New York next month.
Wasn't that why he called?
To ask you not to mention it?
My dear Hermione, Hubert couldn't possibly have telephoned me within the past hour.
I've been walking in the park since three.
He didn't telephone you?
How could he?
This is for my going to America.
No, no, no, no, no.
Come, Freddy, come.
You may as well confess.
Hermione has just found me out again.
But Hubert's old chap I rarely do.
You see what a poor liar Hubert makes.
He's ready to beatroot.
Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Professor, stringing poor Hermione along like that?
And as for you, Freddy, I'm furious you said nothing to us about going to America.
But look here, old girl, I've been trying to tell everyone here that I'm...
Oh, stop the nonsense.
The game's gone on long enough.
Besides, we must start getting ready.
Now it was marvelous of all of you to come in to say goodbye.
And don't worry about Hubert's little jokes.
I will bring him back for Christmas.
You may rely on it.
He all believed her.
For years she had been promising me for dinner parties, garden parties, committees, and the
promises had always been kept.
This time they would not be.
I had seen to that.
The servants were gun for good.
The farewells all said.
I had time to the minute how long it would take to fill in a hole in a cellar.
My devil's garden.
Once in a bedroom I undressed and put on my old bathrobe.
And then I opened the door into Hermione's room.
Oh, Hermione, have you a moment to spare?
Of course, dear.
I'm just finished.
Well, then, will you come in here for a moment, please?
There's something rather extraordinary here.
Oh, good heavens, Hubert.
What are you lounging about in that filthy old bathrobe?
For I told you to put it into the furnace.
Oh, I'll do it.
I'll do it today.
Yes, I will.
I promise.
Well, high time.
Now, what is it you want to show me?
Oh, here, here, in the bathroom.
Just look.
Who in the world do you suppose dropped a gold chain down the bathtub drain?
Nobody has, of course.
Nobody wears such a thing.
Then what is it doing in here?
I don't see anything.
Well, look.
I'll hold this flashlight here for you.
If you lean right over, you can see it shining.
It's deep down.
Oh, such a lot of nonsense.
Just as well.
Well, I don't see it, Hubert.
Well, go on looking, Hermione, in just a moment.
Hubert, I absolutely refuse.
Hubert, what are you doing?
Take your hands off my neck.
I will, Hermione, just as soon as I've finished the arrangements for my trip to America.
What are you talking about?
You thought you were the only one who could plan things, didn't you?
Didn't you, Hermione, huh?
Well, I've been making some plans of my own this past week.
In exactly two minutes and 16 seconds, you'll be dead.
You see?
You see, I've planned it very accurately.
You'll never get away with it.
Oh, I thought you would say that, Hermione, but I will get away with it.
You won't mind the smell of the leaf mow down in the cellar when I take you down there today?
Yes.
That is where you are going, Hermione, right into my devil's garden.
That annoyed you so much.
My friends all expect me back for Christmas.
They do.
If they don't hear from me, they'll start asking questions.
No, they won't, because you'll write them letters, Hermione, on the typewriter, as you
always do.
They'll be signed each in that neat, corrupting way.
You always sign your notes to your friends.
Here, let me up now.
No!
It won't work, Hubert.
You were never any good at planning things.
Oh, but I have changed.
I have learned from watching you all these years.
The lecture people in America, they'll expect you to be traveling with your wife.
I will be traveling with my wife, but not my present wife, Hermione.
Hubert!
It won't work, I tell you.
That pit you dug in the cellar?
Oh, it will work.
It'll serve its purpose well.
Hubert!
No, no, I'm sorry, dear.
This thing has to be done exactly as planned.
You have just five seconds to say your prayers.
Hubert, you must listen.
The cellar, it...
Don't do it, Hubert!
Hubert!
Hermione!
Oh, uh, Stuart?
Yes, sir?
Oh, my wife, she's in this post.
She'll be taking her meals in our stateroom.
For the whole voyage, sir?
Yes, for the whole voyage.
I trust your wife is feeling better this morning, Professor Schumacher?
A little.
Not yet well enough to leave her cabin.
Oh, what a shame.
Oh, Professor Schumacher?
Yes?
Here's a copy of the radiogram you sent for your wife last evening.
Oh, thank you.
I'll just check it over.
Oh, but, but, look, look here.
Why, what's the matter?
Did the typist make a mistake?
No, no.
It's nothing important.
She can correct it later.
For a moment, I had a feeling that Hermione had been leaning over my shoulder again, correcting
what I had written as she always did.
I had written a radiogram to Professor Goodenough and his wife.
Haven't been out of my cabin the whole beastly trip, Hubert, well.
Now, doubt will be back for Christmas.
But the operator had left out the W and, and it read, no doubt will be back for Christmas.
Exactly what Hermione would have written.
Well, the rest of the trip was uneventful.
Marion and I met in New York just as we had planned.
Just as we had planned.
Professor and Mrs. Schumacher, we have reservations, I believe.
Oh, yes, we've been expecting you, sir.
Boy, take Professor and Mrs. Schumacher's luggage up to their suite.
You know, Mrs. Schumacher, you're quite a surprise.
Your letter reserving the rooms was so thorough.
I was expecting an older, more forbidding sort of person, frankly, man.
No.
As a matter of fact, we're just married, but I...
My letter was reserving the rooms.
Oh, I wrote the letter, my dear, and I signed it Mrs. Hubert Schumacher.
Just a joke.
What a cunning old fox you are, Hubert.
Now that I think of it, I...
Oh, I almost forgot.
Letter for you, Mrs. Schumacher.
That's peculiar.
I wonder who on earth...
Oh, well, we'll soon find out in good time.
Come along, darling.
Oh, we are keeping the boy waiting.
Come on.
Oh, ah.
Nothing like a cold, brisk shower to put a man to rest.
Hubert, this letter.
Oh, yes, the letter.
Oh, dry my hair, will you, darling?
Please.
It seems to be a bill of some sort from a building contractor in Salisbury.
Oh, really?
Oh, bother.
Dry your own hair.
Oh, thank you, darling.
I'd see this bill or whatever it is.
It's very puzzling.
Hubert, you were a widower, weren't you?
I mean, Hermione isn't still alive.
Good heavens, no.
Well, let me read that.
Mm-hmm.
Dear Madame, this is to acknowledge your order, together with the keys to your house
in Lonson Place.
Our man had no difficulty in finding the place where your husband had begun the excavation
in a cellar, but apparently he changed his mind at the last moment and filled it in again.
What is it, Hubert?
Our man will begin digging tomorrow, and the job will be completed in ample time for your
surprise.
Christmas present to your husband.
We are happy to be conspirators with you in this thoughtful gesture and hope that Professor
Schumacher will be pleased at the results of our work on his devil's garden, very truly
yours, Paul Holtz's son's contractor's.
What does it mean, Hubert?
It means that Hermione was right.
I will be back for Christmas.
I will be back for Christmas.
I will be back for Christmas.
Back for Christmas.
Yes, Hermione.
And so closes Back for Christmas, starring Mr. Peter Lorry, tonight's tale of suspense.
In just a moment, we shall hear again from Mr. Lorry.
But first, just a word that seems appropriate.
One of the world's oldest customs is the Christmas toast, and traditionally down through centuries
of war and peace, the Christmas toast has been drunk in wine.
This year, when the glasses are filled and raised once again, we know that in every home
the toast will be to a speedy victory and a speedy return of those we love.
And before we set the wine glasses down, let us all resolve to do everything within our
power to help make that toast come true.
Let us resolve to help supply the weapons of war by buying even more and more war bonds.
Let us resolve to face our own inconveniences without complaining.
And above all, let us resolve that when this war is at last over, each of us will exert
all our effort to see that future Christmases truly express peace on earth, goodwill to
men.
This thought, together with our very best wishes of the season, is the Roma Wine Company's
Christmas message for you, its friends, here in America and throughout the world.
This is Peter Lorry.
Thank you for listening to our suspense play this evening, and I know you are looking forward
to next week's show as I am.
It is called, uh, Finishing School, and its subtitle might be the famous quotation, the
female of the species is more deadly than the male.
Don't forget then, next Thursday, same time, for Margot, Elsa Lanchester, Janet Beecher,
and a distinguished all-feminine cast in Suspense, presented by Roma Wines, R-O-M-A.
Made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.