Suspense.
Radio's outstanding theater of thrills brings you an hour, a full 60 minutes of suspense.
Tonight, starring Mr. Robert Ryan and Miss Ruth Warwick in a play by Devery Freeman entitled
Beyond Reason, edited and directed by Anton M. Lieder and produced by Robert Montgomery.
This is Robert Montgomery.
For well over a year, on the average of five times a week, my newsboy and I have engaged
in the same spirited conversation.
Each evening I greet him with anything in the papers, and each evening he answers with,
no, same old stuff.
Then I spend part of the evening reading the chronicle of the day's events, the same old
stuff.
And I learn that the tensions in the world are greater or lesser, that some people want
high taxes and some people want low, that some people are born and some are married
and some are divorced and some are dead.
Same old stuff.
Yesterday a man walked out onto his front porch, lost his balance on the top step, and
one minute later he was dead.
An hour ago a wife in Fort Wayne, Indiana went to the hospital.
Ten minutes ago she became a mother.
One cycle of life completed, another just beginning.
And the newspaper will report them both clearly, accurately, and without editorial comment.
We can assume that in each of these homes the old patterns of living are broken and
the new ones are in formation.
But we can't know what happens next in the history of these two families.
And these are very real stories that begin with birth or death.
We have one for you today, a story entitled Beyond Reason, and it began this way.
Exactly 722 on the night of January 5th, Pinkton Carr reached the corner of Post and Stockton
Streets in downtown San Francisco.
He was feeling fine.
He stopped for a moment to look at an attractive window display, and then, still looking back,
he stepped off the curb.
Hey, look out!
No!
You hit him!
Stop!
Stop!
Hey, don't run, driver!
Stop him!
Oh, no, don't look!
Oh, the poor man!
Call an ambulance!
Somebody call an ambulance!
This guy's hurt bad!
I saw it!
I saw it happen!
He just stepped off the curb!
Somebody call an ambulance!
Call an ambulance!
Somebody call an ambulance!
Who is he?
Do you know who is he?
You mean who was he?
Oh, the poor man!
Next day, the newspapers put it briefly and concisely in a small headline on page 4.
Businessman hit.
Businessman hit run victim.
You probably read it.
Not very interesting, unless you knew him.
The police were working on the case.
Maybe one day soon they'd track down the car.
Maybe.
It looked like just another one of those things, soon forgotten, over and done with.
But a tragedy like that can be a beginning as well as an end.
It can start a whole chain of events, generate a whole series of reactions.
It can become the genesis of fear, especially in the mind as sensitive as the mind of Evangeline Carr,
the eldest of three daughters.
Vanjie Carr.
Beautiful, lonely, susceptible.
Daddy.
Darling daddy.
Why did he have to die that way?
How could such a thing have happened to him?
Accidents like that don't happen to people like him, not without some reason.
It couldn't have been an accident.
It couldn't have been.
And who is this man, Harry Newton?
This man has suddenly become so important in our lives.
My father's business partner, they say.
But my father never had a business partner, never, I'm sure of that.
He would have told me.
But then, who is Harry Newton?
He was a hard one to pin down in his car.
Doesn't have a home, not even a permanent address.
He just seems to drift around.
Was he up here in San Francisco the night my father was killed?
I checked that, no he wasn't.
But he was here that day.
In fact, that's the day your father and he signed the papers that made them partners.
That day?
Yeah.
That's the date on the contract.
He left Frisco on the four o'clock plane.
Accident happened about 7.30.
Yes.
He seems to be the promoter type.
Somebody else always takes the risk.
How could my father have made a man like that his partner?
The contract is perfectly legal, Vangie.
He is your father's partner.
But why?
Why did Dad ever take him in?
Dad contributed all the property.
This man contributed nothing.
Nothing but himself.
Evidently your father thought he was super salesman.
You see, they had planned to subdivide and sell the acreage here at De La Vista.
And he's determined to go through with it.
No, I'm afraid there's not much we can do.
No, I suppose not.
I'm sorry.
This is very trying for you and your sisters, I know.
Perhaps when he comes up here, we can persuade him.
He's coming here?
Of course.
To look the place over.
You'd have to stay here quite a bit to get the work started.
Yes, of course.
I must have realized that.
Only I never really let myself think about how someday I'd have to meet him face to face.
Vangie, be careful.
You don't trust him either, do you?
No.
I don't trust him either.
Just an everyday accident, but it can be the beginning of many things.
Especially when the dead man leaves unfinished business behind.
Unfinished business and 400 choice suburban acres between the highway and the sea.
400 undeveloped acres in which any real estate man would see the possibilities.
Add to that a partner like Harry Newton and three beautiful daughters.
Especially a daughter like Vangie.
Are you hurt?
No, no, I guess not.
I just fell down getting out of your way.
Here, let me brush you off. I'm sorry.
I came around the bend and didn't see you in case...
Oh, no, it was my fault.
I shouldn't have been walking in the middle of the road daydreaming like that.
I'm all right, thanks.
Receiving hospitals are made for people like you.
I know. I started out at the age of two playing with electric light sockets.
Since I nearly knocked you down, I better introduce myself.
My name's Harry Newton.
And I always cross streets when the light is green.
Getting by in life merely requires the ability to take advantage of green lights.
And the ability to recognize red lights.
Huh?
I'm a Vangeline car.
So...
So you're Vangie, the beautiful one.
No, no, Grace is the beautiful one.
And Suzy?
She's the cute one, the baby.
And you, Vangie?
Oh, I'm...
Well, I'm just me, Vangie.
The plain one, the old maid.
Just because you're the oldest?
Mr. Newton, you wouldn't be interested in me.
No?
Maybe I like plain girls.
That was the way it was.
So sudden I couldn't prepare for it.
And I'd met Harry Newton.
But what about all those questions and fears in my mind?
What had happened to them?
I didn't know.
Downstairs, Harry Newton was talking to Aunt Martha.
Of course you realize, Mr. Newton, this is merely an interview.
Our only knowledge of you is that my brother entrusted you with some of his real estate ventures.
He didn't entrust me with anything, Andy.
He watched me like a hawk.
You realize, of course, the responsibilities that go with this venture.
We know nothing of your character or affiliations.
Perhaps you can supply some of the details.
I've got a credit card with the Union Oil Company.
Look, Andy, I came 400 miles from Los Angeles to discuss the promotion of a subdivision.
It's a little late for references.
I'm in this deal with both feet and a legal document.
Are you handling it for the kids?
Well, not exactly.
Well, then let's have a drink and make small talk.
You'll learn more about me that way.
How about it?
Thank you, no.
You can make yourself at home.
Dinner is at seven.
Okay, thanks.
Thanks very much.
Never let a lady make a phone call when she doesn't know she's not alone.
That's rule number...
Who are you?
Harry Newton. Who are you, Grace?
No, I'm Suzy.
The youngest.
You're the man who murdered my father.
That's a pretty big statement for a little girl.
I say it only as an apology for having thought it.
I accept your apology.
Only don't say it again.
I won't.
You going back to Los Angeles soon?
Tomorrow.
Would you like company?
A passenger?
I said company.
Your aunt will ask for character references.
I didn't ask for any.
You got yourself a ride, Junior.
You wouldn't be thinking of leaving earlier.
Uh-uh.
I'm sleeping over.
Our first customer is coming to dinner.
Who?
People by the name of Burkhart.
Oh?
Quit Burkhart and his silly wife, huh?
They're awful boars.
And get set for some boring neighbors.
We plan to sell them a lot.
That's too bad.
I love company, but I think I'll develop a headache
and stay in my room tonight.
Unless I can change your mind about leaving.
Shall we change the subject?
Suit yourself.
I just don't want to press my luck too far.
All that evening, through dinner with the Burkharts,
through the business talks that followed,
all I could do was watch him, listen to his voice.
I'd never expected a man like this.
Never expected him to make me feel like this.
Like I felt when he smiled and said good night.
Like I felt when he drove away with Susie
for Los Angeles next morning.
Like I felt when he called me long distance.
How are you getting along up there without me, Vanjie?
Oh, I suppose we're just barely managing.
Good, I'll have to hurry back.
The surveyors will be here next week.
Who cares?
I don't want to waste this call talking business.
I just want to talk to you.
Still an old maid, I hope.
I'm afraid so.
And still as plain as ever.
Yes.
Wonderful.
Don't ever change, Vanjie.
All right.
Why did I laugh?
And why did I go around walking on air?
He was just flirting, probably with a purpose,
for business reasons.
But I didn't care.
I knew it was crazy, but I didn't care.
I counted the days until he'd be back.
When he came, he brought me a gift,
a quilted velvet robe.
Aunt Martha said it looked like the inside of a coffin,
but I liked it.
And I liked the funny little note that went with it.
After a few days seeing him, talking to him,
I began to fill my thoughts so completely that I couldn't sleep.
So one night I walked down through the rose garden
to the little tea house on the edge of the palisade.
I was sitting there watching the moonlight on the surf far below.
Don't think anything personal.
You're not alone.
It's you.
What's the matter?
No sleep tonight?
I have things on my mind.
You're going to take real estate and me?
Yes.
I'm trying to make some sort of plan.
I'd just like to feel my way along, see how far I can go.
Plans are good to start with, then you follow your instinct.
I'd like to know where I'm going.
And you don't?
I'm not sure.
You've never asked me a lot of questions like the others,
but I suppose you've been wondering why your father
and I were doing business together, why he invited me in.
There must have been a reason.
A reason?
I met him in Palm Springs, gave him a tip on a horse, and it won.
He figured he owed me something.
That's hard to believe.
Isn't it?
Well, of course he liked me, too.
He thought I had guts and brains.
Beyond that, he didn't want to know a thing.
And if he had?
I'd have told him.
Come here.
Harry, no.
Are you still afraid to follow your instincts?
I don't know.
Come here.
It's all so crazy.
Two weeks ago, Harry Newton was just a name,
a name I hated and feared.
There's nothing of that now.
Now he's a man, a man that I love.
My husband.
We drove to Las Vegas and were married in a little chapel there.
Then we had a fast honeymoon,
plague roulette, seeing Boulder Dam,
just having fun being together.
And when we came home again,
words were still ringing in my ears.
For better, for worse,
for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,
to love and cherish until death do us part.
Until death do us part.
I've moved my things into a corner room, Banshee,
so that you and he may have the suite.
Relax, Andy. This is strictly temporary.
We'll probably go to Los Angeles eventually.
All Harry's friends are there.
Meanwhile, I'll have my stuff shipped up.
There isn't much.
It's packed away in Lou Danch's apartment.
He's the one I was telling you about.
While you were away, there was a phone call from Mr. Newton.
Yeah?
From Miss Kitty Platt.
Kitty Platt?
The girl I used to date.
Probably wondering what happened to me.
I wonder what did. Look at me.
Head over heels in matrimony and...
and I love it.
Oh, Harry. Harry.
Is that a private match or can anybody get in it?
Oh. Hello, Susie.
Hi.
I have to excuse my lack of tact.
Never been a sister-in-law before, and I'm at a loss.
Best of everything, sis.
You rate it.
Thank you, Susie.
Is anything wrong, dear?
You look awfully tired.
Hasn't Harry told you?
Takes a gentleman to keep a secret.
Thank you, Harry.
You're welcome.
What a lovely wedding, Ban Banshee.
Nothing temporary about this piece of jewelry.
Three passes at a craptable.
Tell me, Ban Banshee, darling,
did he buy you the short-order ceremony or the blue plate?
It's very impressive, I understand.
Bless, O Lord, this ring,
that he who gives it and she who wears it
may abide in thy peace.
Let us pray.
Susie. Susie, dear.
Harry.
That's a sick girl.
Mind if I speak to her?
As a member of the family,
I feel I have the privilege of helping.
I'll be right back.
But, Harry...
Vandy! Vandy!
Oh. Oh.
What is it, Anne Martha?
Well, I didn't want to talk to you, dear, while he was with you.
But I'm worried about Susie.
She's been acting very queerly,
not eating and so jumpy.
What do you suppose is wrong?
I don't know.
But she hasn't been herself since she went to Los Angeles.
Perhaps if you had a talk with her...
Harry is doing that now.
Harry? Yes.
A stranger!
Auntie.
Oh, I'm sorry, dear, I shouldn't have said that.
It's just that I can't get used to the idea.
I mean his being one of us.
But then I... I hardly know him.
It's very hard to know him.
Yes, I suppose it is.
Well, I only meant that perhaps someone else should talk to Susie.
You mean you think maybe Harry has something to do with Susie acting this way?
Why, no, Vangie, I didn't say that.
No.
No, of course not.
Harry? Yeah?
How is Susie? She'll be okay.
Maybe I better talk to her. Leave her alone.
She won't tell you anything.
Then you tell me.
That's one of those things.
How do the writers put it? Unrequited love.
You?
Well, if it is, she hasn't told me the whole truth.
What did she tell you?
Say, how do you turn the heat out in this dungeon of a room?
There's a gas heater in the fireplace, but what did she tell you?
Harry?
Look, Angel.
Are you going to turn on me, too?
Don't do it. I need you.
I've been rattling around like a pebble in this old drum of a world
with nothing to grab onto. Now I'm safe.
I've got somebody.
This alley cat's got a home.
That's you, Angel. You're my roof and four walls.
Oh, Harry, darling, please understand.
It's not that I don't trust you, but I'm worried about Susie.
Okay, baby, you talk to her tomorrow, if it'll do any good.
But right now, don't worry about it.
Come on, let's get some sleep.
Help! Help!
Help! Help!
Help! Help!
Help! Help!
Help! Help!
Help! Help!
What is that?
What was that?
I don't know. What time is it?
Six o'clock.
Help! Help!
It's Aaron, I think.
He must be below that window there.
What's up?
It's Miss Susie.
What about her?
She's dead.
Dead?
Dead!
Tragedy begets tragedy.
Accidents breed more accidents.
Or was this another accident?
At any rate, in the grim sequence of events started by that simple accident on a city street,
a second member of the Carr family was dead.
They say tragedies strike in threes.
I wonder.
And so does Vanjie Carr wonder.
Why? Why did it happen?
Why did she do it?
What did Harry know?
Did he have anything to do with it?
No, no, I mustn't.
Just relax now.
Rest. That's what I'm supposed to do.
Relax.
In a few minutes, he'll come up and tell me.
Tell me what they're talking about down there.
He and Aaron, and my sister, Grace.
Tell me about it, Aaron, from the beginning.
It's hard for me to tell it now, Miss Grace.
It's like a dream.
He hasn't told it the same way twice.
But I try to. I try to.
And Martin knows that.
Now try again, Aaron.
Well, I was up early.
Not early for me, but early.
And there was a mist, and the ground was wet.
So I wore my rubbers.
I was pinning back the honeysuckle on the trellis near the garage when she came by.
Didn't see me, but I saw her walking as if in her sleep.
Yet she looked as if she knew where she was going.
And she was dressed and combed and carried a purse.
I said, good morning.
But she didn't answer and went off into the mist toward the teahouse on the edge of the palisade,
where there's only one path.
And then presently I worked my way down the path through the rose garden to say good morning again.
But she was gone.
She had jumped into the ocean onto the rocks below.
And I found her purse, that purse on the bar, and that writing crop.
The writing crop is mine.
I left it there several days ago.
Oh, I see.
All right, Aaron. That's all. You may go now.
All right, Miss Grace.
Well, Mr. Newton?
Harry's the name.
Yes, of course. We are related, aren't we?
Should I apologize for not belaboring you with congratulatory messages on your marriage?
Some people are just naturally short on sentiment.
You have other gifts.
Thanks.
It's just that I have an instinct of aversion to attractive men being snatched from the open market.
If I ever get back on the market, I'll send you a credit slip.
Planning to get back on the market?
Not at this particular time.
I see.
Anybody here?
Vanjie.
I'm not in the light, Harry. I look awful.
Relax, Angel.
I know how upset you are, but you've got to relax.
I can't. I can't.
Oh, Suzy.
Suzy, you poor baby.
Take it easy.
I swear you'll just fly apart, springs and wheels and everything.
You're going to have to rest a few days.
Oh, I want to know everything, Harry.
Who was it? Who did this to Suzy?
I lied to her.
I mean, I lied when I said Suzy chose me as a confidant.
The way it happened, I stumbled into the middle of her romance by accident.
Then who?
A neighbor of yours, Whit Burkhart.
Whit Burkhart? But, oh, no, he's married.
Yeah, you see, I bumped into them in a quiet little restaurant in Los Angeles.
I was about as welcome as bad news in a collect telegram.
I grabbed a quick one at the bar and ran.
But is that all?
No.
Suzy made it her business to see me the next day.
She wanted me to promise not to tell anyone I'd seen them together.
I let her talk and she did.
Plenty.
It wasn't nice the way she told it, crying as if her insides were splintered.
This fellow Burkhart had met her in Los Angeles to let her know that they'd come to the end of the line.
He was afraid his wife was getting wise, so they had one last rendezvous.
That's all.
Except the way she loved this guy, he must be all right.
Oh, no, Harry.
A man doesn't have to be all right for a woman to love him.
The next few days I spent in bed.
I was supposed to relax.
I couldn't. It was too much to think about.
Even the doctor's pills didn't help.
And little things made impressions on me.
Little things that people said.
Your husband took me riding this morning, darling.
Tell me, Vanjie, how did you ever trap him?
I don't know.
He just seemed to like me.
Well, I guess we're not hard to like.
Daddy left us quite a bit of allure.
A square block in San Francisco, four theaters, two open-air markets,
and a lovely office building in Los Angeles.
In short, a real estate man's paradise.
Grace.
Sorry, darling.
He's so different from my faithful, methodical Lenny,
I'm just jealous.
Aren't you flattered?
Well, I thought you were making yourself irresistible.
I just got tired of looking like something that's been left out in the rain.
Flowers do all right.
You're very sweet, Harry, but I know my limitations.
Nonsense. I think you're very attractive.
But not beautiful, like Grace, if we take her for a measuring stick.
No one would take Grace for a measuring stick or any other kind of stick.
She's the sexy type.
Nice of you to come, Mrs. Burkhardt.
Cigarette?
No, thanks. Whit made me give up smoking.
He really babies me, that man.
Forced me to go away for a two-week rest.
I told him I felt fine, but he insisted.
Was that when he went to Los Angeles?
Los Angeles?
Whit hasn't been to Los Angeles in four years.
Why, no, he went along with me.
Of course she was lying.
Her husband had been to Los Angeles, just as Harry said he had, with Susie.
He must have been.
She was just trying to make Harry look bad.
And so were the rest of them.
That's why I took to listening, to find out what they were up to, to protect Harry.
I listened, even from behind doors.
Hello, Newton. You remember me?
Gurney, the lawyer?
Uh-huh.
Is Mrs. Newton too ill for a visitor?
Yes, she is. What do you want?
It's in regard to your suggestion, Mr. Newton, that arrangements be made to give you power of attorney in matters pertaining to De La Vista.
You can lower your voice. I told you my wife is ill.
Any request of that nature should be gone over with all parties' concerns.
I said lower your voice.
Of course.
Two untimely tragedies have decreased the number of parties concerned.
I'd say you have two down and two to go, Mr. Newton.
What do you mean by that?
Nothing.
Have you discussed this matter with Mrs. Newton?
There's no reason for her to object.
On the other hand, there's Grace Carr.
Have you spoken to her?
Not more than a moment ago.
It's no go, Newton.
Miss Carr, it seems, has developed quite an interest in De La Vista.
Or some aspects of it.
She intends to work with you as closely as possible.
That sounds engaging.
Yes. For you, it should be a cinch, Newton.
I understand you're quite a hand with the ladies.
Well, I've had my innings.
Oh!
I listened to everything.
Sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night and listened.
I listened to Harry and Grace downstairs talking, laughing, laughing.
They laugh together a lot these days.
Harry, you're wonderful. I don't know how you did it.
What's up, partner?
Telegram from Gin Strand. He's willing to talk terms.
And he's free to talk tonight.
Well, for heaven's sake, let's be sociable.
Maybe we can have the deal signed and moving tomorrow.
That means staying over in San Francisco tonight.
I'll take care of the hotel reservations.
Oh, high pressure, Harry.
We'll take them to the best restaurant in town and we'll order their best meal.
Are you worried about your figure?
No. Are you worried about...
See you later.
Hello. I want the Grosvenor in San Francisco.
A charming little hotel.
Oh, it's you.
Hello, Angel. I thought you were in bed.
How's your headache?
Better. I'd like to go along with you, Harry.
Tonight? In your condition?
What's wrong with me? Don't you want my company?
You're not up to it. You're sick.
I said I'm better. I've decided to help you.
Help me?
Grace helps you.
She tags along.
Can't I tag along, too? Please, Harry, I want to go with you.
All right. Why not?
And this afternoon, I want you to take me riding.
Did you know I could ride? I'm better than Grace. I've won cups.
Shall we go riding this afternoon?
Sure, Angel. Maybe that's a good idea.
What's that, Grace?
I don't know, Aunt Martha. I can't see. The fog is rolling in.
It's a horse.
But no rider.
Is it Vanjie's?
Well, Harry's. It's tearing down the path toward the highway,
probably heading for the stables.
Something's happened. I knew it. Come on.
Here comes the other one. It's Harry.
He's carrying Vanjie. Hi.
Hi.
Help me get her up to her room.
Please stop acting silly. I wasn't hurt a bit.
Yes, she was. Her shoulder's bruised. I'm calling Dr. Rupert.
What's more, you're going to the clinic tomorrow for X-rays.
No sense taking chances. What happened?
A horse bolted. Why? I don't know.
Maybe Harry does. Yes.
He was riding just behind.
Did you see any reason for it, Harry?
No, not a thing.
I tell you, Harry, there's nothing wrong with me.
Nothing but a simple old-fashioned headache.
Maybe you can grab some sleep before the doctor gets here.
Why are you making such a fuss?
Is it because you don't want me with you in San Francisco?
You certainly can't go till we're sure you're all right.
Then you're going without me.
We'll talk about it later.
Get some sleep, Angel.
What are you doing?
Connecting up your heater. This room is like a tomb.
If we take the chill off, maybe you'll sleep.
You won't go without me, will you, Harry?
Are we back on that again?
Oh, I'm sorry.
Harry.
What?
I've made you angry with me, haven't I?
No.
Do you love me?
Sure.
It's so strange, this marriage of ours.
It's more like an affair, really.
It happened so fast.
We don't really know each other, do we, Harry?
Why did you want me, Harry?
Because I love you.
Because you love me.
You love me.
Yet if I were gone tomorrow,
would there be another to take my place,
as there were others before me?
Oh, no.
No, don't answer that.
I get sillier by the minute.
Forgive me, darling.
There's nothing to forgive.
Yes, there is.
I won't be silly anymore.
I'm sure you won't, Angel.
Good night.
I'll see that you're not disturbed.
Harry.
Harry.
Oh, darling.
I'd come to that state of mind.
And the senses are so drugged with fatigue,
there's an end to caring.
Almost.
All the doubts, the fears loomed up and enveloped me.
And yet I was getting drowsy.
Reality was becoming distorted into nightmare.
There was a strange ringing in my ears,
and I began to see things.
Like... like a dream.
I thought I saw Pookie, my canary,
lying in the bottom of his cage,
with his little legs thrust stiffly upward in death.
Then I was hearing things,
like... like a hissing snake.
And down on the floor, I saw it,
coiled up by the heater.
I must...
I must...
laugh.
LAUGHS
Grace.
Grace laughing.
Laughing with Harry.
Somehow, for the first time,
I didn't care.
She had no cause to gloat.
It did happen to her, too.
Just like it happened to death.
And to Susan.
And like it was happening to me.
HISSING
MUSIC
MUSIC
In tonight's full hour of suspense,
Mr Robert Ryan appears as Harry Newton,
and Miss Ruth Warwick appears as Vanjie Kahn
in Beyond Reason.
Tonight's study in Suspense.
MUSIC
In just a moment, we will return with Act Two of Suspense.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.
And now, back to our Hollywood soundstage
and to our producer, Mr Robert Montgomery,
for Act Two of Beyond Reason,
starring Ruth Warwick and Robert Ryan,
in a narrative well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense!
MUSIC
It all started with a fatal accident
on a street corner in San Francisco.
You probably read about it in the papers a few weeks ago.
Just an everyday accident.
But it was an end and a beginning.
An end for Pinkton Carr, who was killed,
and a beginning for his three daughters,
Aunt Harry Newton.
But with the sequence of events half played through,
there are now only two daughters,
one down and two to go.
And right now, lying on the bed in her room,
is Vanjie Kahn, the hiss of gas,
loud in her ears, drowning out the thoughts,
the fears and the voices of Sister Grace and Harry Newton
in the living room below.
Harry, I told Jim Strand we'd meet him at nine.
We can make it if we hurry.
I'll go and get Auntie.
She's resting.
Okay, let's go.
What about Mrs. Newton?
Shall we take a peek?
No, she'll wake up if I go in.
Let her sleep.
I could be back by midnight if we hurry.
Let's just go.
MUSIC
I dreamed church bells were tolling my 10.
And someone was stuffing my throat,
nostrils with cotton padding.
I couldn't breathe.
My limbs were bound to the bed.
I tried to scream, but I couldn't.
I started to spin.
The bed was spinning.
The whole room was spinning like a whirlpool,
ever narrowing, until finally
it was as thin as the sound of a bell.
BELL RINGS
Oh, Dr. Rupert.
I just got your message.
Been out all day. How is she?
She seems quite well. I guess my call was a little hasty.
What happened?
Fell off a horse.
That girl, always something.
It's been that way as long as I've known her.
So she thought she was strong enough to go riding.
Maybe that's my fault.
Well, I'll go up and have a look.
She's sleeping.
Oh, well, that's always good medicine.
Going someplace?
Business appointment.
Oh. Well, good night.
What was that crash?
That came from Vanjie's room. There's something wrong.
MUSIC
There was darkness, darkness and flashing lights,
changing colours, shifting designs, noises,
somehow recognisable to human voices.
Vanjie.
Never blankets.
Good night, Apollos.
Always a danger to ammonia.
She's a murderer. Listen to me, I know.
She's a murderer.
Vanjie.
Lots of coffee. More coffee.
Kill her.
Blanket.
Murder.
Coffee.
Murder.
Vanjie.
Vanjie.
Oh, Harry.
Vanjie.
Oh, Harry.
Good morning, Angel.
Oh, Harry.
It's been a tough night, but you came through as good as new.
Last night I wanted to shoot myself. It's all my fault.
No. No, it's not. Don't say that.
I thought I connected the heater fine, but something must have happened.
Maybe I kicked the pipe. I don't know.
Harry.
Vanjie.
Listen to me before they come back in.
They may say things about me.
Your aunt's got some weird ideas about what happened.
Don't listen to them, Vanjie.
Don't listen to them.
I won't, Harry.
I love you, Angel.
That's all that matters, isn't it?
Yes. Yes, that's all that matters.
What's wrong?
Nothing, Harry.
You don't believe me.
I do, Harry. I do believe you love me.
That is, I want to believe you.
I want to more than anything else in the world.
You've got to.
I will.
Are we up or are we going to sleep some more?
She's up, Dr. Rupert.
There's a lucky girl.
What a fine room for such an accident.
Big and drafty.
My poor Pookie. My poor Pookie.
I'm sorry, Aunt Martha.
It's too bad you didn't knock over the bed table sooner.
But then it was soon enough, thank heaven.
You should get some sleep, Mr. Newton.
I'll settle for a cup of coffee.
And as for you, Angel, no more trouble while I'm gone.
No.
You must reassure him, Vanjie. He's eaten with remorse.
Disappointment, you mean.
You consider the accident his fault.
Accident? You keep calling it an accident.
Your auntie, Vanjie, is very disturbed and full of wild theories.
There's no need to theorise.
Oh?
The blame is all mine.
I got up to get some water, yes.
And this sleeping pill made me groggy.
I must have stumbled on the gas hose and pulled it out without realising.
I'm always doing things like that.
Yes, you are, as long as I've known you.
You know, there are those of us who go through life with a predisposition toward having accidents.
We actually will them to happen.
We, who are thus disposed, live closer to the edge of time than others.
We walk in front of moving cars...
We fall from high places.
We are bitten by snakes and sucked in by riptides.
There's poison oak. We will find it.
There are live wires. We will touch them.
We are wedded to calamity.
We are indeed wedded to calamity, indeed.
You may discount the other nonsense and be sure of the last.
Wedded to calamity.
No, no, I mustn't listen to such things.
I mustn't think such things.
How could I?
When I saw the genuine concern, the fright in his face,
when I heard the love in his voice.
In those days when I lay resting from my narrow escape,
he was sweet, sweet enough to convince me I wasn't alone.
Not really. Not even when he was away in San Francisco on business.
Hello?
Oh, darling. Oh, darling, I've missed you.
San Francisco might as well be on the other side of the world.
Oh, no, darling, come home tonight.
Well, well, then try to.
Oh, please, Harry, I...
What?
Unto eternity.
Oh, yes, darling. Yes.
I love you unto eternity.
Yes, darling. Yes.
Goodbye.
But suddenly I was feeling alone again.
Unto eternity, he said.
But what did he mean?
Eternity?
The word made me shudder.
Hello? Hello, Vanjie.
You don't seem to recognize me. I'm Lenny Walden.
Grace's friend. Oh, yes, yes, of course.
Won't you come in? Thanks.
Grace isn't here?
Oh, no.
I didn't really expect her to be. I just thought that...
You two haven't quarreled, have you?
No. Well, yes, I guess so.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Well, it was my fault. Jealous.
I'm in love with Grace, you know. I know.
Well, I won't bother you any more with my problems.
Do you care to tell me just what or who you're jealous of?
I'd rather not.
Well, then may I guess?
You're jealous of my husband.
Well, don't be.
My husband is very much in love with me.
If anything, he merely tolerates the way Grace tags along after him...
and putters in real estate.
I guess you're right, Mrs. Newton.
It's just that when I saw them dancing...
Well, Grace didn't even tell me she was in town.
Somebody saw them at the band box and called me.
I guess I was steamed up and anxious to jump to conclusions.
I'm an idiot.
Not at all. Just a little hasty.
I've got to hand it to you, Vanjie.
You're a lot more broad-minded than I am.
I envy you.
Envy me?
Envy me when I was so alone and frightened.
When he'd gone, I went upstairs to our room.
Frantically, I looked through his luggage, went through his clothes...
searching, searching for some clue, some clue to the man I married.
There was no... nothing.
Nothing. And I had to know.
Now I had to know.
Long distance.
Give me the hotel, Grovener, in San Francisco.
Thank you.
Oh, I had to know.
I had to talk to him, ask him to come home...
go to him, anything, anything.
Grovener?
Oh, Mr. Newton, please. Room 724.
One moment.
Hello?
Hello? Who is this?
It was Grace's voice, without the slightest doubt.
I ran out to my car.
Grace had answered that telephone in Harry's room.
And I knew. Now I was sure of it all.
Harry had killed Susie.
Whether it had been suicide or murder, he'd killed her.
And in the same way, he would kill me.
Hey, hey, look at that.
That car better slow down for that turn.
Hey, look!
You see, the sequence of events comes to full circle.
It started with an automobile accident.
Was it going to end with another one?
At least this was one they couldn't blame on Harry Newton.
Vanjie simply drove too fast, tried to take a shortcut to San Francisco through a tree,
rushing to her husband.
In the end, he had to rush to the emergency hospital to her.
But she was all right.
The indestructible Vanjie.
Perennial accident case, always smelling of antiseptics and painted with eye line.
I lay there between hospital sheets, pretending that the hypodermic needle had put me to sleep.
But I was listening to Dr. Rupert as he talked to Harry and Aunt Martha.
The night of your wife's first unfortunate experience,
I had a vague suspicion that the circumstances were not entirely accidental.
What do you mean?
Vanjie has twice tried to take her own life.
I don't believe it.
It's true.
For people like Vanjie, it is sometimes harder to find the dividing point between accident and suicide.
There's a certain will to die, a subconscious compulsion which invites disaster.
It's nonsense.
Go on.
In the matter of the gas heater, Vanjie said herself she pulled a flexible pipe by accident.
Was that accident or intention?
I don't believe she ever did it. It was he who really pulled the cord.
No, I think it was Vanjie.
She invited disaster again tonight, driving her car off the road at high speed.
Was it accident or did she suddenly cease to care whether the car made that curve or not?
Or did somebody tamper with a steering wheel on her car?
You'd better stop that, Andy.
Please, Martha.
You'll know too that the tendency seems to run in her family.
Her father stepped in front of a moving car.
How do we know even that?
And Susie leaped to her death off a cliff.
Or was pushed.
At times, Vanjie was drawn to self-destruction.
At times of mental depression.
We've got to work to save her.
I'll do anything, Doctor.
Anything you say.
There'll be a lot for you to do.
You have it all figured out, haven't you, Dr. Rupert?
And you're right, of course.
Except for that about mental depressions.
That's not what causes it.
It's the fear.
Fear of being alone.
Of not being loved.
Of not being loved by Harry Newton.
I heard what he said.
He'd do anything.
Anything.
But he didn't fool me.
I know he wants grace.
I'm in his way.
I know.
They're gone now.
Oh, it's stifling in here.
So close.
I must have some air.
That's better.
There was a razor-sharp blade here a little while ago.
They used it to make a blood test.
Oh, but it's gone.
No matter.
In the lavatory, just off my room,
there'll be a drinking glass.
If I can break that without too much noise,
glass cuts.
Yes.
Glass.
What is it, Ness?
What's happened?
Mrs Newton.
She's gone out that window.
Stop her.
Stop her.
She can't have gone far.
Notify the highway patrol and tell Mr Newton.
Yes, doctor.
We've got to find her to protect her from herself.
And from him.
What?
Don't you see?
You've given Harry Newton the soundest alibi in the world.
Your assurance that Danji is bent on suicide.
What did Aunt Martha mean by that?
The soundest alibi?
Oh, by no matter.
I pressed close to the bathroom wall
with one shoulder tucked in the corner.
They didn't think to look there.
Oh, but someone was bound too soon.
D'Alovista, that was it.
If I was going to die, I wanted to go home to die.
I waited till my room was empty again.
Then I went to the open window.
If I could get to my car...
Yes, home.
Yes, it was right.
It was right to come home.
It was going on morning, but it was still dark.
The house was pitch black.
I went inside.
There was a telephone.
A stray ray of moonlight shone in it.
I could see it plainly.
And I remembered unto eternity.
To have and to hold until death do us part.
With this ring I thee wed.
This ring and three passes at a cramp table.
I went upstairs.
My room was cold, dark.
One of his shirts was still on the floor,
where I'd thrown it in my frantic search of his things.
It was a sports shirt.
He'd said he wouldn't need a sports shirt in San Francisco.
I hung it up in the closet.
The room was in order otherwise.
There was water by my bed and the sleeping pills.
I emptied the bottle into my hand and counted them.
One, two, three, four.
Not enough.
I said it aloud.
The words boomed in the silence.
Such silence.
Not a sound.
Not even the stirring of Pookie in her cage.
I looked toward the empty cage and shuddered in a sudden chill.
Oh, yes.
There was a gas heater close by.
I crossed over to it quickly, kneeled down,
and turned on the gas.
Get a blanket. It's murder.
Coffee. More coffee. Kill her.
Murder. Kill her.
I held the match to the heater
and watched it flare up warm and alive.
I was beginning to enjoy my borrowed time.
That was Harry.
Suddenly, in a burst of panic, I knew what her mouth had meant.
Dr. Rupert had given him the sound to tell her by in the world.
The assurance I was going to commit suicide.
He'd come to make sure I didn't change my mind.
It was dark.
He could barely make out the shadowy bulk of him.
As he looked at the car, I'd come in.
Then he entered the house, walking fast.
Banshee.
Banshee, I know you're here.
Banshee.
I had time to think.
I had to think out what it all meant.
Banshee, come here.
I want to talk to you.
But I couldn't think.
The sound of his voice frightened me.
All at once, I felt terribly depressed.
The boat was sinking.
The sides were caving in.
All I wanted was to get off.
I slipped down the stairs, outside,
into the rose garden, to the tea house.
The night was turning milky.
Vision was lengthening by the moment.
I couldn't see the surf directly below me.
But I could hear it.
I thought of Suzy.
And I leaned on the rail above the retaining wall.
Then I heard his footsteps,
approaching through the rose garden,
through the morning mist.
Good morning, Angel.
Not talking this morning, Mrs. Newton?
I can't see you, but I know you're there.
Don't come any closer.
Is your hand on the rail, Angel?
Are you poised and ready?
Or are you hoping for a reprieve?
Something I'll say that will turn despair to ecstasy.
Don't come any closer, Harry.
I mean it. I'll jump.
And what's holding you back? A thread?
A lingering hope?
Yes.
That I love you?
Yes.
That I don't love Grace?
Yes.
So that's it.
You know it is.
Harry.
What?
Have you come to kill me?
No.
You have a perfect alibi.
Dr. Rupert said I was a potential suicide.
I know.
You pushed me off under the rocks below as you pushed Susie.
Because you were through with it, it'll be just as perfect a crime.
An obvious suicide.
But Burghard's wife spoke to you.
Yes.
She could have been lying.
I know.
And you called my hotel last night, didn't you?
And when Grace answered, you hung up.
I figured that out and called you back with a beautiful explanation ready.
That I'd gotten Lenny Walden and Grace together to patch up their differences.
You're lying, Harry.
If you think so, why don't you jump?
I will. I won't let you push me.
I'm not going to push you.
How do I know?
You don't.
The act and the proof are both one.
If I push you, I must want you dead.
If I don't push you, I must want you alive.
Isn't that so?
Yes.
You have to stand there and wait for the proof.
Harry, don't.
Jump if you want to, but I assure you, Vangie, the proof is worth the anguish.
This is it.
Irene Burghard was lying or she wasn't lying.
I killed Susie or I didn't.
I want you or I don't want you.
Total proof.
Clear, concise and quick.
Harry.
Harry.
Don't.
If you come any closer, I'll jump.
Darling.
Darling.
I've got to help you.
That's all that matters.
Everything I said was true.
And it's easily proved.
This is all the proof a woman would want.
To have and to hold from this day forth.
Hold me, Harry.
I will.
Our grateful thanks to Robert Ryan and Ruth Warwick.
You gave us the excellent performances we expected from an actress whose talent and versatility we've applauded many times before.
And from an actor whose outstanding work in Crossfire has deservedly won him an Academy Award nomination.
Next week for Suspense, we have selected the story of a successful young man whose gifts are many.
He is handsome in youth, charming and intelligent.
He is a poet of considerable ability and his fame is far-reaching.
Beauty and comfort attend his everyday pattern of living.
But over him reigns an element ominous and unseen.
An element we call suspense.
Next week then, The House by the River.
Mr. Montgomery may currently be seen in the Universal International Production Ride the Pink Horse.
Mr. Ryan may soon be seen in the RKO Production Berlin Express.
Miss Warwick's current picture is 20th Century Fox's Daisy Canyon.
Beyond Reason, an original story by Devery Freeman, was edited and directed by Anton M. Leder.
Ludgluskin is our musical director and conductor and Lucian Morrowek composes the original scores.
Next week, here The House by the River on radio's outstanding theater of thrills.
One hour of Suspense.
Music