Roman wines present Suspense.
Roman wines made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
Salud! Your health, senor.
Roman wines toast the world.
The wine for your table is Roman wine, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
This is the man in black, here for the Roman wine company of Fresno, California,
to introduce this weekly half hour of Suspense.
Tonight from Hollywood, Roman wines bring you as stars, Dame Mae Whitty and Miss Maureen O'Sullivan.
And so with the performances of these two distinguished leading ladies in the play called The Black Shore,
we again hope to keep you in Suspense.
Listen to me, please. Listen carefully and tell me if I'm right.
I'd say I'm about to be murdered. I'm not certain. No one's even threatened me.
But I say I am going to be murdered.
This is just a plain, ordinary looking kitchen that I'm sitting in.
But for me, I know it is a death house.
If it were only three days ago and I could live them all over again.
Oh, if it only were. The fair was being held in town and everyone would game.
And Robert was late as usual, but I didn't care.
Susan, not waiting for Rob again, are you?
Have you ever seen me when I haven't been?
I'm an human lawyer for the watch factory. Somebody ought to teach him how to tell time.
Hey, how about a dance, Sue? One short one before that boyfriend of yours comes round to steal you away.
Oh, thanks, George, but I'd rather wait.
If he's not quick about it, he'll find nothing left to steal except the veg.
All right, but let me know if you're interested in a change of hands.
Hello there. Oh, hello.
I've been watching you sitting there and I wondered who you were waiting for.
Oh, just a friend. I see.
I don't wish to seem inquisitive. Please don't misunderstand.
It's only that your face struck me as being unusually bright and alive, as well as being uncommonly pretty.
Thank you. Now, you see, I have an eye for faces.
My son was a sculptor. He worked almost entirely with heads and my job was choosing them.
He's all very foolish, I'll admit, more so since he departed some time ago.
Oh, I am sorry. Thank you.
That's precisely why I was watching you. Of course, I know nothing about you any more than you do of me.
But by the way, what's your name? Susan Appleby.
Mine is Elizabeth Master. How do you do?
I live just the other side of town. Oh.
Let me come to the point, Susan. I admire your looks and I like the way you act and speak.
I'm not a young woman and I'm lonely. I have been ever since I lost my son.
I need a companion, someone who can stay with me and help me too.
And you resemble closely my very first companion, my best remembered one.
Oh, but I... I'll pay you well.
Thirty pounds a month. Your chief occupation will be to brew me some tea and talk to me.
Are you interested? Well, I have been seeking that sort of a position, but I...
Splendid. You need look no longer.
But you know nothing about me. I know that I like you and that I want you to accept my offer.
I'll return here at the same time tomorrow evening. If you do want the position, please be here.
And believe me, I hope you are here.
Good night, Susan. Good night.
See you tomorrow at eight. All right. I'll be here.
Whistle
Dada! What do you mean you'll be here?
Oh, Rob, you frightened me.
Well, you were whistling our tunes, so I thought you were expecting me.
What do you think you're doing making dates with strange women?
Believe me, she is a strange woman.
Mrs. Masters? Oh, no, she's nice.
And Rob, she offered me a position.
On doing what? As a companion.
Just what I wanted and at thirty pounds a month, darling.
No small sum that. Too bad you can't manage it.
But I'm thinking seriously of it, Bob.
Well, stop then. I don't want you ever to have one serious thought about anything.
Now, Rob, I'm going to take it.
What do you know about the old hand?
Nothing yet.
Sue, did you look at the way she dressed?
Black from shoes to shawl.
Why the shawl's so large and black you'd hardly know she had a face.
She seemed charming.
She might well be, but I'm not so bad myself.
And I want you for a companion too.
Let's push the wedding date ahead, darling. Make it any time you will.
Oh, now we've gone through this so many times, you know it can't be done.
But with the way you're coming along and with thirty pounds a month additional,
why, Rob, in no time at all we'll have all we need.
You're an unawfully stubborn fellow, darling.
Oh, you know I'm right.
How many evenings off will she allow you?
We didn't get that far.
Well, where's the place at then?
That's strange. She left so quickly I never had a chance to ask.
Call it off, Sue. I...
Well, why, Rob?
Well, I don't like it.
You know nothing about her, not even where she lives.
Well, I told you I hardly spoke to her. Tomorrow I'll know everything.
All right, my darling, you win.
But let me hear from you as soon as you set me.
Of course I will. Why, everything's going to be fine.
Ah, I'm silly. Sure it will.
Ha ha ha ha. Hello, darling.
Hello, Rob.
Everything will be fine for us.
Tonight for Suspense, Roma wines are bringing you as stars
Dame May Whitty and Maureen O'Sullivan,
whom you have heard in the prologue to The Black Shawl by R.R. Lewis.
Tonight's study in Suspense.
Far from the scene we have just left, far to the south across the equator,
is another scene I ask you to visit with me.
It is just before the dinner hour on the beautiful roof terrace cafe
of the Hotel Metropolitano of Galliquil, Ecuador.
We are finishing our appetizers, an excellent sherry,
and lifting your glass you remark to our host that you envy him such wine.
He laughs. You are very kind, he says,
but it is your own California you must praise for this splendid wine,
for you see, it is Roma California sherry.
Yes, in many far countries where discerning tastes have found Roma wines,
it is a luxury, imported and treasured.
For Roma wines are in every sense fine wines,
from the rich vineyard country of California,
products of age-old winemaking skill,
aided by modern quality controls and tests.
And here in the United States Roma wines cost mere pennies a glass full,
because here there is no import duty, no overseas shipping cost.
Such enjoyable flavor and constant quality,
such low cost, such high wine values,
have made Roma by far America's largest selling wines,
enjoyed by millions with meals, when entertaining, anytime.
To enjoy these delights yourself, ask for R.O.M.A. Roma Wine,
made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
And now it is with pleasure that we bring back to our sound stage,
Maureen O'Sullivan as Susan and Dame May Whitty as Mrs. Masters,
in the Black Shawl, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
And so I was there waiting as Mrs. Masters had instructed me the following night.
We got into her car and she drove us off.
It only seemed a mile or two from town,
but we twisted and turned so many times,
that in the dark I became completely confused as to my whereabouts.
Then finally, we stopped.
There it is, straight ahead, down the path.
Miss Appleby, welcome to Masters Hall.
I'm in the parlor, Miss Appleby.
Won't you join me in a cup of tea?
Oh, thank you, Mrs. Masters.
I'd be very grateful if I might.
I love my room.
Good.
Sit down over there opposite me, won't you?
I certainly will.
The fire's as inviting as the tea.
I've always had one burning whenever I'm home.
I get cold so easily.
That's why I always wear this coat.
I'm not a fan of the cold.
I'm not a fan of the cold.
I get cold so easily. That's why I always wear this shawl around me.
Sugar?
Thank you. No lemon or milk, thank you.
Now, Susan, tell me about yourself.
Everything, all you've done, all you see in the future for you.
Oh, there's very little to tell.
I've always lived here in town.
I expect I always shall remain here.
After your marriage, you mean?
I presume you've such intentions.
I expect so.
It is the only thing that matters, isn't it?
Having someone to care for?
Yes.
I know.
Before my son left me, I desired nothing.
The scope of his talent was the world we lived in, and beautiful it was.
I suppose love is like talent in that respect.
It too creates a smaller world within the large one we inhabit,
and makes you want it never to disappear.
Did his talents receive recognition?
To a limited degree.
Everyone saw in his work the promise of a truly great sculptor.
The promise never bore fruit,
because he hadn't enough time.
Winter came far too early in his life.
How old was he?
I lost him before he was 21.
Oh, Mrs. Masters, that's terrible.
So great a waste.
That's it.
You realize it too, the waste.
To lose a useless thing, that can be forgiven.
Or if the last can't be held, there's nothing we can say but to cast away genius,
to kill it before it's reached its full expression, that no one can forgive.
No one can forget.
Oh, no, no, please, Mrs. Masters, we have no control over such matters.
They're God's will.
Of course.
Thank you, dear.
You're very sweet.
I wish you more success in the world of your love.
I'm sure you'll have more.
Oh, that kind of you.
Another good man ruined.
I should be insulted.
Ruined by a woman.
That's it.
Smile, laugh.
Life can be so short.
Remember, my boy, enjoy life while you may.
I slept well that first night and did not awaken until almost nine.
When I realized how late it was, I dressed quickly and ran downstairs.
Mrs. Masters had left a note on the kitchen table telling me she'd gone shopping.
I was to take my breakfast and then wait for her.
I looked around to see if I might do something, but everything was in perfect order.
I looked for a phone thinking I'd call Rob, but I could find none in the kitchen or the center hall.
Finally, I thought I'd take a look at the outside, get a bit of fresh air.
I went to the front door and tried it.
It was locked.
I turned the bolt and pulled.
The door was still locked.
I couldn't understand.
Then suddenly I realized the door was locked from the outside.
I ran to the kitchen, not afraid, but surprised.
Then something struck me that I hadn't noticed before.
All the kitchen windows were barred.
I made a quick dash for the kitchen door.
Oh, my, Susan.
Good morning.
Did you have a good night's rest?
Oh, yes, I did. Thank you.
Fine. But you're trembling.
Is there a chill in the house?
You really should stay away from the doors.
Oh, I know, but I wanted a breath of air.
The front door was locked.
Was it?
Yes.
Oh, I must have done it automatically.
You see, I've lived alone for so long, and it's natural for a person who lives alone
to lock all doors behind them when they go out.
Why are the windows barred?
That goes back to the time my son did his work here.
We had so much of it lying carelessly about all over the house.
So much of value.
Anyone might easily have climbed through the windows.
Oh, of course.
Quite silly of me.
For a moment, though, I felt so much like a...
like a prisoner behind those bars.
An unusual experience for you, I take it.
A very unusual one.
Now you're smiling again.
That's fine.
My boy always liked to see a smile on a woman's face
without when he always said they reminded him of...
death.
His.
Death.
Next day, I wrote to Rob.
Please come to see me now, Rob, if you can.
Everything's all right.
Don't worry about me, but come to me.
It's unbelievable, but I must tell you
that I still don't know the address here.
I cannot tell you how to find it.
I'm afraid I'll have to go to the police.
I'll have to go to the police.
I'll have to go to the police.
I'll have to go to the police.
I'll have to go to the police.
I'll have to go to the police.
I'll have to go to the police.
I don't know how to find it, but someone must know,
Mrs. Masters, and can tell you where she lives.
I want to send this off to you now, so I'll close.
I can't tell you, darling, how great is my need to see you
and my love for you soon.
Mrs. Masters?
Why, yes, Susan, what is it?
Where can I post a letter?
Let me have whatever you want sent,
and I'll drop it in the box when I go shopping tomorrow.
Oh, I don't want to bother you.
I'll take it down myself.
No bother at all.
There's nowhere else to post a letter,
and I pass the box every day.
Oh, but I'd much rather...
It's settled.
Let me have it.
It'll be sent early tomorrow.
Oh, of course.
Here you are.
Thank you.
And Susan, I've dropped my shawl.
Would you mind?
Oh, not at all.
Excuses, isn't it?
Will you join me in a cup of tea?
No, thank you.
Mrs. Masters, this morning I said I was silly
for feeling like a prisoner in your home,
but the feeling is still there.
What have I done or said that might create any such impression?
That's not the question I'm trying to answer.
I just feel it.
The answer I don't know is, what do you want with me?
What was that?
Wait right here.
I'll be down shortly.
Where are you going?
Upstairs.
Would you wait down here?
Do you understand?
Oh.
No.
No, I won't stay down here.
I'm frightened I'm coming up too.
No, dear.
Don't worry about the bus.
It hasn't broken at all.
Oh, no.
There's not a scratch on it.
Dear, dear, please don't cry.
Susan, I told you to stay downstairs.
Why don't you come up?
All right.
You'll know now.
Miss Appleby, this is John Masters, my son.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
That night at dinner, there were three of us.
I couldn't bear to look at him.
The twisted face, the dull glazed eyes, whimpering, grunting, unable even to speak a single intelligible
word.
And when I saw the two together, she with a horrible black shawl draped around her, I
knew for certain that in her own way she was as mad as her son.
And I knew more surely than ever how great was my own danger.
Late that night I packed my bag silently and swiftly.
And I waited.
It was well past midnight before I dared open my door and look out.
The house was completely dark upstairs and down.
I felt my way along and started down the stairs.
I reached the bottom and went right to the front door first.
Susan.
Susan, where are you going?
You couldn't possibly know your way about once outside the house.
You'd surely have lost your way.
Wouldn't she, John?
Stop it.
Stop it.
All right.
John, leave us now.
John, dear, did you hear me?
I'm sorry.
You have no right to keep me here if I don't wish to stay.
When I accepted this position, I was of the opinion that you lived alone.
Conditions have changed.
Now I wish to leave.
Please, Susan, believe me, I don't blame you a bit.
But think of me.
Just for a single moment, why do you think I asked you here?
Do you believe it's so easy for me, chained to this lost thing,
no one to talk to day or night?
I needed someone.
I need you now.
You told me he was dead.
I never told you that.
Only that he'd left me.
And so he has.
Oh, no.
No, I won't stay.
I'd go mad if I do.
Very well, dear.
It's no use trying to argue with you.
But stay at least until tomorrow.
You could never find your way tonight.
And if you stay over, it'll give me a chance to find someone in town.
I'd rather go now.
If you don't mind.
Tomorrow night.
Just until then.
Even if I've no one, well, you can leave after dinner tomorrow.
I'll pay you two weeks' wages if you do.
Please, you can't refuse me that.
Well, I...
Thank you.
Thank you, dear Susan.
I shouldn't have stayed.
I knew that from the moment I agreed.
I slept badly, waking from time to time.
Certain that I heard odd noises from the next room.
Low chuckles, whispered, voiceless muttering.
But the night passed finally.
And today was uneventful.
When Mrs. Masters returned from shopping in the village,
she informed me that my successor would arrive tomorrow morning.
And I was therefore free to leave immediately after dinner.
She spent the rest of the day preparing the evening meal.
It was as though it were a special holiday, so great were the pains she took.
The dinner turned out to be wonderful.
And Mrs. Masters was extremely gracious.
Dear Susan, we drink to you, my dear, dear Susan.
To your future, to your man.
To your future with your man.
Thank you.
And may you remember this evening all the rest of your days.
You're very kind.
All the rest of your days.
Thank you.
Not at all, not at all, my dear.
Let me pour you out some more wine.
And some for you, John.
I'm really sorry that I must hurt you by leaving you this way.
You hurt me?
Why, my dear, if anyone has been hurt, surely it's you.
We frightened you so.
Made you so miserable.
You're the hurt one, Susan dear.
Not I.
Anything I've felt or said is forgotten now.
Always when I think of you, I shall remember this evening.
I'm certain of it.
And so you may remember better, my dear.
Let me imprint the occasion still more clearly upon your mind.
Do you know what happening it is we celebrate?
I expected it was my leaving.
So it is.
But did it seem likely that you alone would cause so much excitement in our home?
Well, I...
Miss Appleby, this is the third anniversary of the most important event in the history of Masters Hall.
We honor you by asking you to partake of our joy.
And I thank you for it.
No need of that.
You need only listen and be silent.
Three years ago, my son was a genius.
Today, he is my son.
Three years ago, the world's doors stood wide before us.
Today, all the shoulders on earth couldn't break it down.
It was shut upon us three years ago tonight.
She slammed it as she left.
My son loved her dearly.
My first sweet companion.
I warned him.
I told him that no woman would put up with his temperament.
He wouldn't listen.
He loved her madly.
Madly.
The perfect word for it.
And for that, she slammed the door on him.
Slammed it in his face, his heart, his head.
That night, he lost the power of his mind.
Ever since we waited in vain for its return.
But we've honored the occasion.
Don't think we've forgotten.
Eh, John?
Two years ago this evening on the first anniversary, Sally Thwait left us.
We told her the story.
She was overwhelmed.
She couldn't bear to stay and left.
Quite suddenly.
Last year, that's what it was.
Kitty got to call her last name at the moment.
She wanted to leave us too.
How could we refuse?
And now, tonight, Susan Appleby.
Tonight, Susan, you are leaving us.
Ha ha ha ha.
Where are you going, Susan?
To the kitchen.
Excuse me, please.
That is why I say I'm going to be murdered.
I can't know for sure.
But the way they laugh, the way they look.
The way she sits there fingering that ugly, torn black shawl.
The shawl that looks like death.
What can I think?
What can I do?
Susan, there's one thing more.
This shawl, so beautiful, so exquisitely wrought.
You must surely have noticed that I wear it all the time.
It belonged to her, a gift from my son.
In a hasted slip from her shoulders as she left.
So this is all that remains of that lovely, wonderful creature.
I should like you to wear it, if only for a moment.
You're so much like her, and her memory is John's greatest comfort.
Oh, no. No, don't come near me.
Don't touch me.
Please, just around your shoulders.
I won't wear it. Stay away from me.
Please don't.
Oh, don't.
Who would be coming here now?
John, watch her closely.
I'll look through the window.
I don't know who he is.
Surely you've seen the light in the kitchen.
I'll just send him away. I'll only be a moment.
Watch her, John, if she shouts for him.
Well, you mustn't allow that, must you, John?
So you'd better be still, Susan.
Yes? What is it you want?
I beg your pardon. I'm looking for a Miss Susan Appleby.
You won't find her here. I'm sorry.
Are you certain of that?
It seems to me I recognize that shawl.
It was worn by the woman Miss Appleby went to work for the night before last.
Surely this is not the only black shawl in the world.
Nor am I the only woman who wears one.
I've been inquiring in the village, and all the shopkeepers remembered you as the woman who always does.
I followed you here this morning.
Then I returned to the village, and now I'm back again.
Well, you can return right to the village.
If you must know, Miss Susan Appleby was here.
But you've entirely untouched her.
She's probably not at home now.
Well, all right.
If she's gone home, I'll see her there.
And so sorry for your trouble.
Not at all.
Thank you. Good day.
Good day.
Susan.
Susan, was that you whistling a moment ago?
I thought I told you to be still.
I was nervous.
It's a habit of mine.
A very bad one, of which you've many.
Among them, no doubt, is that of driving men mad.
That one just now.
The love in his eyes for you.
I've seen that before.
In other eyes.
I'm so terribly sorry he's gone away.
Perhaps you'll return another time.
Stay away from me.
Here now.
The shawl's around you.
Draw it tighter.
Tighter.
No, please.
Let me go.
Let me go.
You heard her.
Let her go.
Adams, get him.
Yes, sir.
Draw it quickly, John.
Quickly.
Quickly.
No.
No.
You killed him.
John.
John.
John.
Susan, darling.
Oh, Rob.
Rob, you heard me then?
Of course.
This morning I went down to the local constabulary and persuaded Adams here to join me.
I was interested, ma'am, because there have been two disappearances in as many years.
And just about this time.
This sounded like a third.
It almost ended like the others, too.
Almost, but absolutely.
Lock the door.
Let's have a hand here.
We'll break it down.
All right, oh.
Watch out.
Once we're in, she's mad and may try anything.
Let's go now.
One, two, three.
All right.
Oh, look at that.
Rob.
Chandelier, let's cut her down quickly.
It's too late.
Her neck's gone.
Rob.
Rob.
The Shaw.
The Black Shaw.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh.
And so closes the Black Shaw, starring Dame May Whitty and Maureen O'Sullivan, tonight's
tale of Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by William Spear.
To every woman listening tonight, I want to say a special word about making every dinner
or supper you serve taste better.
I want to urge you to start serving Roma wine with your meals.
It's simple.
The cost is very, very little.
And it works magic in making food more enjoyable.
You can serve Roma wine with any meal or any time in any kind of glass you wish.
Serve it chilled.
Try different kinds of Roma wine until you find those you enjoy most of all.
Try hearty red Roma California Burgundy or the delicately delicious Roma California Sauternes
wine.
The cost is mere pennies a glass.
But you'll find even a pick-up supper tastes like a banquet.
Get Roma wines today.
If your dealer is temporarily out of them, please try again soon.
Just ask for R-O-M-A, Roma wines, America's largest selling wines, made in California
for enjoyment throughout the world.
Dame May Whitty appeared through the courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and is currently being
seen in the White Cliffs of Dover.
Last Thursday, same time, Donald Crisp and John Loder will be our stars in another unusual
study stars in another unusual study in mystery, suspicion, and dangerous adventure.
At that time, you will hear the only ghost story ever to have been staged by suspense.
Staged by Roma wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.