Now, Roma Wines, R-O-M-A, made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
Roma Wines present Suspense.
Tonight, Roma Wines bring you Mr. Vincent Price as star of The Name of the Beast, a
Suspense play produced, edited and directed for Roma Wines by William Spear.
Suspense, radio's outstanding theater of thrills, is presented for your enjoyment by Roma Wines.
That's R-O-M-A.
Roma Wines, those excellent California wines that can add so much pleasantness to the way
you live.
To your happiness and entertaining guests.
To your enjoyment of everyday meals.
Yes, right now a glass full would be very pleasant as Roma Wines bring you Vincent Price
in a remarkable tale of Suspense.
News and views in the world of art.
Yesterday at the Dovel Galleries, a record-breaking crowd attended one of the most sensational
exhibitions of recent years.
Masterpiece of the show is a portrait by James Dorrance titled The Name of the Beast.
This is savagely candid work, a face from which violence has shattered the last vestige
of humanity.
The tragic circumstances of the artist's death are too well known to review here.
But at the same time, one cannot help speculating upon the essential mystery surrounding this
remarkable canvas.
What is The Name of the Beast?
The name of the beast was Krebs, Elmer Krebs.
I found him in an evil waterfront dive, took him to my studio and made the first sketch
for the portrait that night.
I gave him money and he promised to return the next day.
When he didn't show up, I went in search of him.
It wasn't hard to trace.
My search came to an end in a squalid room of a waterfront hotel.
He didn't look up when I entered the room, but continued to sit there on the sagging,
dingy bedstead, holding his head in his hands and gently moaning.
I crossed the room and raised the blind to let in the daylight.
Then I saw it.
Blood on his hands, on his shirt front, in his hair and beard.
A horrible, sticky mass of blood.
You didn't show up for our appointment today.
I'm the painter you met last night.
Remember?
You were going to sit for a portrait.
What do you want?
You want your money back?
Certainly not.
I want to finish my painting.
I want you to come back to the studio.
That must be crazy.
Look here, it's very important for me to finish that painting.
I'll make it worth your while.
Money?
I don't need money.
Not anymore.
Maybe I can help you in some other way.
You're in some kind of trouble, that's obvious.
What business is that of yours?
You better wake up and pull yourself together.
We'll have to get rid of those clothes some way or other.
Hell, I'll think of some way.
What happened?
I told you it's none of your business.
Why don't you leave me alone?
I'm sick, all that blood.
The first thing we must do is clean up this mess here and get those clothes off.
And the shoes too.
I'll make a parcel out of them and dump them in the river after dark.
You better shave off that beard too.
They'll be looking for a man with a beard, you know.
Who will?
By the police, of course.
What makes you so sure of that?
I know more about you than you think I do.
You're bluffing.
Maybe, maybe not.
But you're in no position to take chances.
For all you know, I might be a witness.
I might have seen you kill...
Shut up!
Temper, temper.
I told you I'm sick.
I'm liable to do anything.
It wouldn't be smart for you to do anything to me, Elmer.
I'm your only hope, you know that, don't you?
You lost your head, you were clumsy.
To get away with murder, you need a clear head.
Look at the mistakes you've made already.
Not all over you.
As good as a rope around your neck.
Where did you hide the loot?
That's what you're after.
Then it was robbery.
Somewhere close by too.
Couldn't have gone far with all that blood on you without attracting attention.
Well?
It was in a shop, I imagine.
That means they probably won't find the body till Monday morning.
What's all this third degree?
You with the police?
On the contrary, Elmer.
I'm going to save you from the police.
Hmm?
I told you.
I want to finish painting that portrait of you.
It don't make sense.
All it's just to paint some crazy picture.
Ah, but what a picture, Elmer.
I've waited 20 years to paint this picture.
Everything I've ever painted has been merely the preparation for this.
I've worked alone.
Never exhibited a single canvas.
Do you know what it is to work alone?
Yeah, I know.
Nobody knows your name, but one day quite suddenly a masterpiece explodes in the face
of a jaded world.
Like your murder, Elmer.
After a life of petty crime, at last an act of yours really means something.
Newspapers will headline it.
The whole world will be clamoring to know your name.
Exciting, isn't it?
Exciting?
Well, that's the way I feel about this portrait.
I must finish the job.
Just a two-hour to finish.
How do I know you won't take those clothes to the cops instead of dumping them?
I'm taking a terrible chance walking out of here with a bundle of blood-stained clothes,
as it is.
They'd fit me about as well as they fit you.
Okay, that's fair enough.
By the way, where did it happen?
A hawk shop, number 23, next to the alley.
Was it necessary to...
An old man came in and started firing a revolver right off.
I don't pack no rod.
There was nothing else to do.
I grabbed the fire axe off the wall.
Oh, my.
And I suppose the police have your fingerprints on file?
Yeah, I'd done time once.
What did you do with the axe?
Just dropped it there.
I was sick, all that blood.
I suppose you left nice red fingerprints all over the place.
I didn't touch nothing.
Maybe the windowsill going out.
That's the first place they'll look.
And you're obviously in no condition to go back there now.
What are you trying to do?
Buy yourself a nice murder rap?
My dear fellow, any intelligent man can get away with murder if he keeps his wits about
him.
You ought to be very grateful to me, Elmer.
I'm going to take your clumsy crime and make it into a work of art.
For Suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you as star Vincent Price in The Name of the Beast
by Robert Tolman.
Roma Wines presentation tonight in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Between the acts of suspense, this is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines.
Yesterday, a happily married friend told me one of his favorite formulas for enjoying
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He said he never eats dinner while still burdened with the pressures of a busy day.
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Tomorrow night before dinner, share Roma Sherry with your family.
It costs no more to serve Roma, America's favorite wine.
So insist on Roma, R-O-M-A, Roma Wines.
Remember, more Americans enjoy Roma than any other wine.
And now Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage, Vincent Price as James Dorrance
with Elliot Lewis as Krebs in The Name of the Beast, a tale well calculated to keep
you in suspense.
The shoes of the beast were just my size.
I wore them when I went on my errand that night.
It was fortunate I did.
Getting into the place was simple.
It was an old fashioned lock and the skeleton key to my studio fitted it perfectly.
The shop bell jangled when I opened the door.
I made my way quickly along the dark rows of counters to the rear of the shop.
A pair of dusty portheads provided it from the back room.
I pulled them two behind me and snapped on my flashlight.
The body, or what was left of it, lay in a heap in the center of the room.
The floor, well, it was lucky I hadn't worn my own shoes.
There would be tracks out of that place, red tracks.
The axe lay near the old man's head.
I picked up the axe and carried it over to the sink.
I washed off what I could and smeared out the prints with cotton gloves on my hands.
Then I made a quick circuit of the room, taking in every surface.
With the wet gloves, I smeared the prints on the safe handle, the windowsill, and the
jimmy the murderer had so stupidly left behind him.
Then I dropped the cotton gloves on the floor and left them there.
No way to trace a pair of cheap cotton gloves.
Now there was only one last thing to do, walk around the block to dry the soles of those
shoes and burn them in the stove when I got back to my studio.
The handiwork of the beast would remain, but the name of the beast had been expunged.
But I didn't burn the shoes, nor did I throw that bundle of clothing into the river as
I had first planned to do that night.
No, no.
This would be an authentic portrait of a murderer in the very bloodstained garments of his crime.
That will be all for today, Elmer.
How much longer is this going on?
Until the painting is finished.
You can't set a time limit on the completion of a masterpiece, you know.
Don't look much like me.
You've forgotten.
I made the first sketch before you shaved off your beard.
I don't like this picture.
Did you have to paint in all that blood?
My dear fellow, no one in the world would ever recognize you as the man with the beard
in this painting.
I don't like this picture.
I don't like staying here.
Look, what about that stuff?
When can I start cashing in on it?
I should have thought I was paying you enough to live on.
I suppose I want to get married.
Well, the...
What?
Oh, good Lord, man.
You mustn't even consider it.
In the first place, I can't afford to support another person.
Who's asking you to support anybody?
I got that stuff, haven't I?
Well, I'm going to cash it in.
That's all.
Listen to me, Elmer.
If you try to unload as much as one piece of that loot, the police will be on your tail
so fast.
Oh, no, my friend.
That stuff has got to stay where it is for some time to come.
You're just saying that so I'll have to depend on you so you can paint that lousy picture.
Really?
Oh, by the way, Elmer, I've never said anything about it before, but you never told me exactly
what you did do with the loot.
The suitcase, I told you.
Yes, I know, in a locker at Grand Central, but where's the ticket?
That's one secret I'm keeping.
Well, all right.
But you will promise me not to unload those jewels.
Not for a while yet.
She keeps asking me, when are we going to get married?
What am I going to tell her?
Oh, by the way, who is the lucky lady?
Jeannie.
Her name's Jeannie Baker.
Hey, wait a minute, though.
She don't know anything about me.
Not anything.
If I ever catch you talking to her, so help me, I'll kill you.
You say you're a friend of Elmer's?
Well, not a friend exactly.
I'm afraid this will be rather a shock to you.
You're very close to Mr. Krebs.
We're engaged to be married.
What is it?
Is he in some kind of trouble?
Are you a detective?
Well, not exactly.
You see, I represent the insurance company.
What insurance company?
State indemnity.
Our policy holder doesn't want to prosecute, but at the same time...
Prosecute?
Well, after all, the jewels were of considerable value.
What jewels?
Why, the jewels in the suitcase, in the locker at Grand Central.
He did leave the ticket with you, didn't he?
Well, yes, but I mean, he didn't tell me that...
Well, he did say it was valuable and he didn't want to risk losing the ticket, but...
How did you know about it?
My dear Miss Baker, we insurance investigators have ways of finding out these things.
Now then, if you're a sensible young woman, and I can see that you're not only a sensible
young woman, but a very beautiful one as well.
Mr. Dorrance, what has he done?
Well, I don't think he regarded it as a theft exactly, more of a loan in all probability.
After all, his aunt was a very old lady and...
You mean he stole this jewelry from his aunt?
Well, I wanted to spare you those exact words if I could.
Actually, the lady would prefer not to prosecute, but of course, if we can secure the return
of the property in no other way...
I suppose I'd be arrested too as an accessory or something.
I must say it was rather thoughtless of him to have involved you in this manner.
How do I know you're what you say you are?
I have credentials, of course, but I would rather take care of this unofficially, especially
since this little talk with you, you're much too fine a person to be involved in a sordid
affair like this.
I don't even know that suitcase has any jewels in it.
Then supposing we go there together and get it, Jeannie?
Well now, now let's have a look.
How are we going to...
Well, I think I have a key here that'll open it.
There.
What?
Those must be worth a fortune.
Yes, they are, Miss Baker.
You understand our concern?
Yes.
Close it up.
I don't want to look at it anymore.
I'd like to have spared you this.
You understand, of course, that I wouldn't dream of prosecuting, not now that I've met
you.
I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Dorrance.
This is such a shock to me.
How could he?
How could he?
There, there.
You're not the first innocent girl to be deceived by an unscrupulous fellow like that.
How did you happen to become involved with him in the first place?
I was lonely.
I have no friends here, and he came into the cafe where I wait-
Oh, there, there now.
You won't let anything happen to me.
I promise you I'll do anything to keep you from knowing another moment's unhappiness.
That night I worked feverishly like a man possessed.
But as I worked, an uncanny change came over the man in the portrait.
There was something about it, something that terrified and at the same time fascinated
me.
Yet the more I tried to make it come right, the less it really looked like Krebs.
I began to regret I had had him shave his beard in spite of the risk involved.
Being clean-shaven altered a man's appearance more than I thought.
But that wasn't the real difficulty.
The real trouble was Jeannie Baker.
How could she ever have loved a beast like Krebs?
A girl so gentle, so lovely.
I tried not to think of her, but the image of Jeannie stood between me and the canvas,
and the painting just would not come right.
This Krebs sat there suddenly posing for me, his eyes began to grow more and more cunning
and suspicious, as though he could actually read my thoughts.
He would jump up every time I laid down my brush and circled the portrait like an infuriated
animal, until finally, around four in the morning, he dropped off to snoring.
I let him stay there.
In the dawn light, I looked at the picture for the last time and draped the easel to
shut it out of my sight.
My masterpiece, for which I had become accessory after the fact of one murder and sowed the
seeds of a second, was, I knew it now deep in my heart, a failure.
I was obsessed now with only one resolve, to prevent the second murder, which by some
instinct I knew was in Krebs' mind.
At whatever cost to myself, no harm must come to Jeannie.
Mr. Dorrance, I've been told that artists are full of romantic notions and the Bureau
has dealt with a number of them in this neighborhood, as you can well imagine.
But I must say that of all the pipe dreams that have been brought to me, yours is the
most fantastic.
Oh, but listen, Inspector, you've got to believe me, that girl's life is in danger.
Yeah, we're checking on that.
Now, let's check on a few other things, Mr. Dorrance.
You say that on the night of the 12th, you met this man Krebs at a place called Louis.
Yes, sir.
You went with him to your studio and made a sketch of him for a portrait.
All right, so far so good.
He promised to return the following day and sit again for the painting.
He failed to show up, so you sought him out at his hotel.
Now the story really becomes incredible.
He tells you he's committed a ghastly murder.
He's covered in blood.
You offered to help him get away with the murder in order to finish the portrait.
Oh, now really, Mr. Dorrance, you painters need publicity as bad as all that.
But Inspector, I tell you, I have all the evidence.
Where?
In the studio.
Where's this man Krebs?
Except for the portrait, you say you painted of him.
I can't find a shred of evidence that he exists.
Oh, just a minute.
Yes, Sergeant.
They've picked up the girl.
Good.
Send her in.
She'll tell you.
She'll tell you who Krebs is.
Oh, come in, Miss Baker.
We won't detain you long.
Miss Baker, do you know this man?
I say, do you know this man?
It's all right, my dear.
Speak up.
Yes.
He's a man.
His name is Elmer Krebs.
A few minutes later, they let me go, dismissing me as a harmless crackpot.
Jeannie walked out of the station with me, clinging to my arm with solicitude as one
might act towards a beloved and mentally ill relative.
Why did you do it?
Elmer came to my apartment last night.
He told me the whole story.
But then why?
He was boasting, boasting about how he's pinned the crime on you.
Don't you see?
Everything you've done to save him has incriminated you, the bloodstained clothes, even the loot.
Oh, I'm tired.
I don't know.
Listen to me.
He'll always be a threat to us, to our happiness.
He's safe.
The police don't even know he exists.
They don't even know what he looks like.
There's still the portrait.
It's not a masterpiece, but they can identify him from it.
I see.
Darling, you didn't mind my rechristening you?
You once loved a man named Krebs.
And I still love a man named Krebs.
And it's all right.
For that, I'd do anything.
Put this in your overcoat pocket.
It'll keep you safe, darling.
What?
Oh, no, no.
It'll keep you safe, darling.
He was there in my studio when I got in that evening, waiting for me.
I had more or less expected it.
I hadn't expected to find him in such a cheerful frame of mind.
He had pulled the drape off of the painting and was walking around it, viewing it from
every angle.
Hi, Dorrance.
How did you get in here?
Through the door.
No more window jobs for me, Dorrance.
The picture.
How about that?
Got a new model, huh?
What?
The picture?
Oh, it's no good.
By the way, it's finished now.
You won't need to come here anymore.
You say.
I'll get you the suitcase.
I suppose it'll be safe for you to cash that stuff in by this time.
I already found the suitcase, Dorrance.
Oh?
Well, take it along with you, then.
It's over there on the table.
I opened it up.
Well?
Did you think I'd take it without checking on the contents?
What are you talking about?
What'd you do with the rocks, Dorrance?
Rocks!
You took the rocks, the jewelry.
There's nothing left there but the settings, a pile of junk.
Listen, Krebs, I swear I never opened that suitcase but once, just after we took it out
of the locker.
We?
She's in it with you.
Listen, Krebs, you can think whatever you want to about me, but keep Jeannie out of
it.
I keep Jeannie out of it?
That's a lass.
Listen to what I say.
Krebs, where are you going?
To her place.
If she has those rocks, I'm gonna get her.
Krebs, come back here.
I've got a job to do.
Krebs, if you go out of that door, I warn you.
All right.
You're out of your mind!
I dragged his body inside the door and left it there.
Then I dropped the revolver Jeannie had given me back in my overcoat pocket and left my
studio for the last time.
As I closed the door on the room, it seemed that the face in the portrait was grinning
at me in hideous mockery.
I had meant to go straight to the police and give myself up, but I must have known in my
heart that I wouldn't.
Instead, I walked and my feet took me almost against my will to the house on Grove Street,
the house where Jeannie lived.
I had roused her from sleep and she seemed rather cross.
What's the big idea barging in here this time of night?
I had to see you, Jeannie.
Well?
That was an unlucky name you gave me, Jeannie.
What's happened?
I shot him.
You gave me a murderer's name and now I am a murderer.
So you really did it.
I wondered if you'd have the guts.
Jeannie!
Oh, Jeannie!
What do you want me to do, put on black and cry myself to death?
You loved him once.
Who said so?
You were going to marry him.
Maybe.
I thought he was smart once.
I said I'd marry him if he pulled a really big job.
I might have kept my word, but he bungled it.
What's worse, he involved me.
When I found out he'd planted that stuff on me.
You knew.
You knew all the time.
Oh, so what?
So what?
You'll get your cut.
Oh, Krebs was right.
You did take those stones and I killed a man for you, to save you.
What did you do with the gun?
It's in my overcoat pocket.
I was going to the police.
Oh, you sap.
Why didn't you leave the gun there?
Make it look like suicide.
It was, in a way, wasn't it, Jeannie?
I'm Krebs now.
Dorrance is dead.
You planned it very nicely.
Oh, stop.
Stop trying to be deep.
It doesn't matter what your name is.
Either way, you've messed it up.
Anybody have a key to your place?
No.
And we still have time.
Time for what?
The body.
Any intelligent person can get away with murder if he keeps his wits about him.
You told Elmer that.
Yes, I told Elmer that.
You're scared to go back there, aren't you?
Do you want me to do it for you?
No.
No, I'll do it.
I must do it.
Here.
You mustn't forget your overcoat.
No.
No, I mustn't forget my overcoat.
It'll keep me...
It'll keep me safe.
Goodbye, Jeannie.
Two stiffs.
What a shambles.
Looks as if he chopped this guy and then bumped himself off.
Who are they?
I don't know the other one.
This is the guy that came in the headquarters Saturday.
You know, the artist.
Huh?
Boy, that must have been something to his story after all.
Here's a note he left.
Hey, dear Inspector, the portrait I told you about is standing on the easel facing the
window so you can see it in the light.
James Dorrance.
I guess this must be it here.
He said it'd identify the murderer.
Is it a good likeness?
Gee, I don't know.
You look at it.
Ah.
Why, it's a woman.
Yeah, it's that dame we picked up.
The little waitress.
Hey, but look, it's got men's clothes on.
Bloody.
And the way he's made the face all twisted and ugly.
She was a good looking kid.
Yeah, she was.
He must have been cracked.
I guess he must have been.
A thing like that makes you wonder, don't it?
Yeah, a thing like that makes you wonder.
The discerning art lover will recognize Dorrance's painting as more than a mere portrait.
It's the human soul stripped naked and its dark and deep and secret places shown in all
their morbid brooding fascination.
But still one cannot help wondering, what is the name of the beast?
Did the woman in the portrait exist or was she only the creature of the artist's fevered
imagination?
Our only clue is in a quotation which the artist caused to be printed in the exhibition
catalog.
And he causeth all to receive a mark in their right hand or in their foreheads.
And that no man might buy or sell save that he had the mark or the name of the beast or
the number of his name.
That him that hath understanding count the number of the beast.
For it is the number of man.
Suspense presented by Roma Wines.
Our O.M.A. made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
Before we hear again from Vincent Price, the star of the name of the beast, tonight's suspense
play, this is Truman Bradley for Roma Wines with a tip for you men.
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Little unexpected deeds that reflect thoughtfulness.
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Insist on Roma, R.O.M.A. Roma Wine made in California for enjoyment throughout the world.
This is Vincent Price.
Next Thursday our friend Keenan Wynne will be your star on Suspense in what sounds like
a very exciting play which all takes place on a bus.
A bus making a return trip from the state in St. Asylum.
I know you won't want to miss it next Thursday.
And now let me add my voice on behalf of a very great and wonderful cause.
The pennies, the dimes and the dollars that you give when you buy Easter Seals give crippled
children their chance for happy living.
Help a crippled child to walk again.
Buy your share of Easter Seals tomorrow.
Thank you.
Vincent Price appeared through courtesy of 20th Century Fox and will soon be seen in
their production, Dragonwick.
Next Thursday, same time, Roma Wines will bring you Keenan Wynne as star of Suspense, radio's
outstanding theater of thrills.
Produced by William Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.