In just a moment, Auto Light presents, Suspense with Herbert Marshall.
It was the night before Christmas, and in Santa Claus' sleigh, the electrical system was plenty okay.
The ignition was perfect, worked like a dream, and the sleigh ran so smooth it made Santa beam.
What was Santa's secret, Arnold?
I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight. It's no secret at all. It's just Auto Light.
Now, Arnold.
You see, Hap, with all the kids in the world, depending on old Saint Nick, Christmas Eve,
he plays safe by replacing old or worn out parts in his Auto Light equipped car,
sleigh, with Auto Light original factory parts, resistor spark plugs, staple batteries, distributors,
starting motors, coils, generators, wire, and cable.
All famous for their Auto Light ignition engineered dependability.
Santa does it. Why don't you?
Harrow, Harrow, let's switch from Santa to Suspense.
Suspense!
Auto Light and its 60,000 dealers and service stations bring you
Radio's outstanding theater of thrills.
Starring tonight, Mr. Herbert Marshall in Anton Leder's production of John Collier's Holiday Story.
A tale well calculated to keep you in Suspense.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingles all the way.
Oh, what fun, just to ride in a one horse open she.
Oh, jingle bells.
Wilfred! Wilfred!
Yes, my dear.
What on earth are you doing down here in cellar?
Why, just doing a little digging.
And why, may I ask, have you chosen this day of all days to dig up the cellar floor?
Well, I thought as the weather's been so damp, this would be a good time to plant that little devil's garden I told you about.
Devil's garden? What kind of nonsense is that?
Oh, that was my little joke about it.
You see, I've managed to get hold of the spores of several unclassified wild orchids.
Oh.
In their wild state, they bloom under damp masses of leaf mold.
The Orukanian Indians call them devil flowers because they appear to bloom under the ground.
Well, I'm sure the Orukanian Indians will be very interested if you succeed in growing these ridiculous flowers under the cellar floor.
Whom else it will interest, I can't imagine. Ooh, what's that terrible smell?
That's the leaf mold.
Chemically identical with the earth blanket they grow under in the wild state.
I suppose I should line the pit with concrete so as to prevent seepage from this foreign soil, but I don't suppose there'll be much time for it now, and I...
I do want to get these started before we close the house.
There certainly will not be time for it.
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, Wilfred.
I suppose it is inconsiderate of me. You see, I've been wanting to try this experiment for a long, long time, but...
What with my lectures and seminars at the university, there never seemed to be 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.
Oh, no, no, no, no. But, uh...
Must I shave off my beard, Hermione?
I thought we'd been through all that. Of course you must. They don't wear beards in America.
Go 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.
Oh, don't look so put-upon, Wilfred.
No, I...
Someone has to plan things in this house or you'll never even get to the university in time for your lectures, much less make arrangements for a trip to America.
Oh, I know, 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 the holidays.
Yes, of course, back for the holidays. I've forgotten.
Well, 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, Wilfred?
Yes, Hermione.
Good. You have just 20 minutes to clean up this mess down here and keep your appointment at the barbers.
And when you finish there, I want you to come straight home.
Oh, I wanted to stop and pick up some books I ordered.
Well, all right. But don't loiter the whole afternoon browsing 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, mind you.
Yes, Hermione.
Yes, Hermione.
How many years has it been since I've been saying that? 10 years? 15, 20?
Clear up the rubbish.
Yes, Hermione. Don't forget your umbrella. Yes, Hermione. Do this. Do that. Yes, Hermione. Yes, yes.
How much longer can I stand this?
Good evening, sir.
Good evening, Miss Malcolm.
Why, why, it is Professor Carpenter, isn't it?
Oh, you, you like me better this way?
Oh, you look ever so much younger without the beard. 20 years at least.
20 years.
You'll be glad to know those books you ordered have finally arrived.
Books?
Phytotomy of phalloid gametophytes and coniferous shrubs of North America. Those are the ones you ordered, aren't they?
Yes, thank you. You're very kind, Miss Malcolm.
Why kind, Professor Carpenter?
Not many young ladies in bookshops would go out of their way to look up rare books for an old professor of botany.
Well, you're not old, Professor Carpenter. Really, you look...
And besides, I adore botany. It's my particular hobby.
Oh, really?
Yes.
You never told me that before, Miss Malcolm.
I was afraid to. You were so imposing with the beard and all.
And Miss Malcolm...
Yes?
Forgive me if this sounds foolish, but I...
I feel that shaving off my beard is the most important thing I've done for...
For 20 years.
Oh, it is. I'm sure it is. I'm ashamed 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 seemed 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 wound up by giving you your change and letting you go on your way.
You say you're all alone in the world?
Since my father died.
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 Malcolm.
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.
And yours?
Wilfred.
Oh, how long have you been alone, Wilfred?
Alone?
Oh, 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...
A widower. I never thought of it in quite that way.
But perhaps I shouldn't be talking like this.
But I've often wondered what she must have been like. Your wife, I mean.
Hermione?
Was that her name?
Yes, Hermione.
She was not an easy woman to forget. Very strong, always managing things.
The house, my wardrobe, my friends.
When we dined at a restaurant, she even ordered my food.
She was always managing things. You might say she...
Yes, she managed herself to death.
Poor woman. She must have loved you very much.
But she needn't have put herself out, sir.
It's plain to see you don't need things managed for you.
Is that so?
You need companionship, I think. Someone 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.
THE LAST THING ON EARTH
Well, at last. You certainly took long enough about it.
What do you look so pleased about?
I don't know, Hermione.
Getting rid of the beard, perhaps.
I feel 20 years younger.
Even smaller. Your face looks triangular or something.
I'd forgotten your chin was so weak.
But never mind that. You can grow it back soon enough after the holidays.
Where are you going?
Down in the cellar. I just bought this electric lantern and I thought I'd put it away down there.
Now, whatever possessed you to buy a thing like that?
I don't know. I rather light this lantern.
Might come in handy. Who knows?
Now, Wilfred, don't start digging down there again.
I have a hundred things to do, putting the house in order before we leave.
I want you to carry these boxes upstairs for me.
Yes, Hermione.
And if you are going down to the cellar, take this along and stuff it into the furnace.
This is my old bathrobe. I may need it.
Nonsense. I bought you a new one. Get rid of it.
And don't start puttering down there with that devil's garden or whatever you call it.
I'm through digging, my dear.
I think the pit is quite deep enough now for my devil's garden.
It would all have to be carefully planned, of course.
Just as carefully planned as Hermione was planning the trip to America.
We both went about our arrangements as the days passed.
I spent all the time I could with Marion, and finally she consented.
And then it was the last day, the big day.
The day we were to sail for America.
Operator? Operator, are you there?
I'm still waiting on that call to Salisbury.
Well, put them on quickly.
Hello. Is this Paul Holton, sons?
It's Mrs. Wilfred Carpenter. Did you receive my letter?
I would. Now remember, we'll be back for the holidays, and I want the job done without fail.
What's that? Oh, no, I'm sure he doesn't suspect anything.
Send the bill to me in New York as I instructed you, addressed in my name, of course.
Oh, yes, I've already put them in the mail. You'll get them tomorrow.
Thank you. Thank you so much.
Oh, here you are, Wilfred. Where have you been?
Backstairs. I dismissed the servants.
Dismissed the servants? But I've asked some friends of mine into a farewell tea.
Go and tell them it's a mistake.
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'll have to do better than this when I plan the trip home, or we'll never in the world be back here for the holidays.
Back here for the holidays, back here for the holidays. Must you keep saying that?
Why not? We are coming back for the holidays, aren't we?
I'm supposing I've offered a professorship in one of those wealthy American universities.
Nonsense. Americans care nothing for botany.
Luther Burbank was an American.
That's different. What have you ever done except muck around in the dirt with a lot of roots and tubers?
They asked me to lecture. That means something.
Of course they ask you to lecture. Americans will pay to hear any foreigner deliver a lecture. Once.
Now, there's no use getting yourself in a state about this, Wilfred.
No doubt this extra money will come in very handy when we arrive back for the holidays.
Precisely. And it's no good you're making a joke of it.
Heaven knows where you'd be today if I hadn't got a sense of time.
Yes, my dear 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 upstairs to change. Call me when they get here.
Yes, Hermione.
Marion, it's Wilfred.
No, my darling, nothing's wrong. My plans are the same. And yes, you've changed.
No? We'll meet in New York and be married there. I'll explain why later. You'll have to trust me.
Yes, my darling.
Wilfred?
Sorry, I can't talk any longer. Yes, I'll meet you in New York without fail. Until then, my darling.
Wilfred? Were you talking on the phone just now?
Yes, Hermione.
Whoever was it?
Freddy. Freddy Sinclair.
Didn't I hear you say something about meeting somebody in New York?
Yes. Old Freddy said he might possibly get over there before we leave. I should have caused me to meet him there if he did decide to go.
It seems very peculiar. But then all of your friends are peculiar.
Yes, Hermione.
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. Go and change your clothes before the guests arrive.
Yes, Hermione.
Oh, never mind. I see somebody coming up the walk now. Go and let them in.
Yes, Hermione.
Wilfred?
Yes, my dear?
Look out the window. There's Professor and Mrs. Goodenough, but who's that with them?
Why, it's...
Precisely. Freddy Sinclair.
Curiously, you should have been talking to him on the phone not three minutes ago, and now here he is.
Yes, isn't it? But then as you say, Hermione, all my friends are peculiar.
Not half so peculiar as you. Digging in the cellar an hour before we leave for America. Just look at yourself. And now that I think of it...
Yes, Hermione?
Oh, never mind. Go and let them in.
No, you were going to ask me something. The hole I'm digging in the cellar.
Oh, 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.
Oh bother, open the door and stop saying yes, Hermione.
I think, my dear, I've said it for the last time.
For suspense, Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Herbert Marshall in Radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Well, Hap, what kind of presents are you giving your car this Christmas?
My car? Now be sensible, Harro.
I am being sensible, Hap, because the most sensible thing every car owner can do is treat his car to Auto Light, Preventive Service, and Auto Light factory parts now.
Right now, like Santa does. For with an Auto Light check up now, your car won't let you down later.
Here we go.
Look, Hap, Auto Light parts are original factory parts on many makes of our finest cars. The same as those put in the car the day it was made.
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Your car uses them all, Auto Light makes them all.
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Chip and Dale?
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So friends, follow the footsteps of Dasher, Dancer, Dunder, and Blitzen and whip on down to your nearest Auto Light service station or the dealer who sells your make of car and ask for original factory parts and service.
Okay, Harlow, right now, here's suspense.
And now Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood soundstage, Mr. Herbert Marshall starring in a gripping tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Back for the holidays.
Hermione was so positive that we'll be back for the holidays.
That last afternoon pouring tea for a few friends who had come in to say last minute farewells, she kept reiterating it.
Now mind you, Hermione, don't get those Americans lure your husband with one of their fat university jobs.
We absolutely must have you with us for the holidays.
He will be back, I promise you.
It's not absolutely certain, of course.
Wilfred, what do you mean it's not certain? Of course it's certain.
After all, Wilfred, old boy, you've contracted to lecture for only two months.
That's right. But then, of course, anything may happen.
Oh, Wilfred adores being unpredictable.
Now what other man would decide 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.
Oh, my dear.
Sounds so mysterious.
That's Wilfred, though. It's really quite simple once you find out what he's up to.
Now take that telephone call he put through to you a few minutes before you arrived, Freddie.
To me?
Of course. Wilfred 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?
But, my dear Hermione, Wilfred 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? And as for my going to America...
No, no, no, come, Freddie. You may as well own up.
Hermione has found me out again.
But, Wilfred, old chap, I really don't.
You see what a poor liar Wilfred makes. He's as red as a beetroot.
Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Professor? Stringing poor Hermione along like that.
And as for you, Freddie, 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...
Oh, stuff and nonsense. The game's gone on long enough.
Besides, we must start getting ready.
It was marvelous of all of you to come in to say goodbye.
And don't worry about Wilfred's little jokes.
I will bring him back for the holidays.
You may rely on it.
They all believed her.
For years she'd been promising me for dinner parties, garden parties, committees.
And the promises had always been kept.
This time they wouldn't be. I'd seen to that.
The servants were gone for good. The farewells all said.
I had time to the minute how long it would take to fill in the hole in the cellar.
My devil's garden.
Upstairs in the bedroom I undressed, pulled my clothes over a chair.
Put on my old bathrobe. Then I opened the door into Hermione's room.
Hermione, have you a moment to spare?
Of course, dear. I'm just finished.
Then come in here for a moment. There's something rather extraordinary here.
Oh, good heavens, Wilfred. What are you lounging about in that filthy old bathrobe for?
I told you to put it into the furnace.
I'll do it today. Yes, I really will. I promise.
Well, high time. Now, oh, what is it you want to show me?
It is in the bathroom here. Just look.
Who in the world would suppose dropped a gold chain down the bathtub drain?
Nobody has, of course. Nobody wears such a thing.
Then what's it doing there?
Well, I don't see anything.
Here. I'll hold this flashlight for you.
If you lean right over, you can see it shining deep down.
Such a lot of nonsense. Just as well.
Well, I don't see it, Wilfred.
Go on looking, Hermione. In just a moment...
Wilfred, I absolutely refuse...
Wilfred, 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, Hermione?
Well, I've been making some plans on my own this past week.
In exactly one minute and 45 seconds, you'll be dead.
You see, I've planned it very accurately.
You'll never get away with it.
I thought you'd say that, Hermione, but I will get away with it.
You won't mind the smell of the leaf mold down in the cellar when I take you down there today.
Yes, that's where you're going, Hermione.
Into my devil's garden that annoys you so much.
My friends, they all expect me back for the holidays.
And if I don't come back, they'll start asking questions.
No, they won't.
No, because you'll write them letters, Hermione, on the typewriters. You always do.
They'll be signed H in that neat cryptic way.
You always sign your notes to your friends.
Oh, let me up now.
No!
It won't work, Wilfred. You were never any good at planning things.
Ah, but I've changed. I've learned from watching you all these years.
The lecture people in America.
They'll be expecting you to travel with your wife.
I will be traveling with my wife, but not my present wife, Hermione.
What?
Fortunately, they've never met you.
I'll write a few letters home for you, then fewer and fewer.
I might even come back alone in a year or two and sell the place, say you died in America.
Nobody will ever suspect that you're lying under the floor of the cellar in this very house.
Wilfred, it won't work, I tell you. That pit you dug in the cellar...
I can assure you, my dear Hermione, it will serve its purpose well.
Wilfred, you must...
Sorry, my dear, I've got to get this done according to plan.
You have just five seconds to say your prayers.
Wilfred, you must listen! The cellar...
Don't do it, Wilfred!
Oh, Stuart.
Yes, sir?
My wife isn't disposed. She'll be taking her meals in our stateroom.
For the whole voyage?
Yes, for the whole voyage.
Well, I trust your wife is feeling better this morning, Professor Carpenter?
A little, yes, thank you. Not yet well enough to leave her cabin.
Oh, I'm sorry. Oh, by the way, here's a copy of the radiogram you sent for your wife last evening.
Oh, thank you. I'll just check it over.
But look here.
What is it? Did the typist make a mistake?
No. No, 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 she always did.
I had written the radiogram to Professor Goodenough and his wife.
Have not been out of cabin the whole beastly trip.
Wilfred well. Doubt will be back for the holidays.
The copy read, no doubt will be back for the holidays.
Exactly what Hermione would have written.
Well, the rest of the voyage was uneventful.
And Marion and I met in New York just as I had planned.
Just as I had planned.
Professor and Mrs. Carpenter, we have reservations, I believe.
Yes, we've been expecting you, sir.
Boy. Yes, sir.
Take Professor and Mrs. Carpenter's luggage up to their suite.
You know, Mrs. Carpenter, you're quite a surprise.
The letter reserving the rooms was so thorough,
I was expecting an older, more forbidding sort of person, frankly, ma'am.
No, as a matter of fact, we are just married.
But my letter reserving the room.
I wrote the letter, my dear, and signed it. Mrs. Wilfred Carpenter just as a joke.
What a cunning old fox you are, Wilfred.
Well, rather I think of it, I am rather.
Oh, I almost forgot.
There's a letter for you, Mrs. Carpenter.
That's peculiar. I wonder who on earth...
Well, we'll find out in good time, darling. Come along.
I've got the boy waiting.
Like a cold, brisk shower to put a man to rights.
Wilfred, this letter...
Oh, yes, yes, the letter.
Darling, dry my hair, will you?
Yes, dear. It seems to be a bill of some sort
from a building contractor in Salisbury.
Oh, that's wonderful.
Oh, bother, dry your own hair.
Thank you, my dear.
Let's see this bill or whatever it is.
It's very puzzling, Wilfred.
You were a widower, weren't you?
I mean, Hermione isn't still alive.
Oh, good heavens no.
Let's have that.
Dear madam, it's a good one.
This is to acknowledge your order,
together with the keys to your house in Launceton Place.
Our men had no difficulty in finding the place
where your husband had begun the excavation in the cellar,
but apparently he changed his mind at the last moment
and filled it in again.
What is it, Wilfred?
Our men will begin digging tomorrow.
You may rest assured that it will be a professional job
and 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 Carpenter will be pleased
at the results of our work
that he so quaintly calls his devil's garden
very truly yours, Paul Houghton's son's contractors.
What does it mean, Wilfred?
It means that, for my own good,
I will be back for the holidays.
Back for the holidays.
Back for the holidays.
Back for the holidays.
MUSIC
Thank you, Herbert Marshall, for a splendid performance.
Mr. Marshall will return in just a moment.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle through the snow.
Your car's all happy, it's full of pep,
with Auto Light, you know.
Right you are, and by Cornelius,
electrical problems won't keep your car down
when you stop at the shop that features Auto Light parts and service.
Sure as Chris Kringle means Christmas,
Auto Light original factory parts and service top the town.
So, friends, stop in tomorrow
at your friendly Auto Light service station
or the dealer who sells your make-of car
and ask for original factory parts and service.
Ring, ring, ring.
Auto Light, you will find Auto Light service stations
listed in your classified telephone directory
under automotive electrical equipment.
And remember, your Auto Light ignition system
is the lifeline of your car.
Yes, friends, and remember, too, Auto Light means spark plugs,
ignition-engineered resistor spark plugs,
Auto Light means batteries, stay full batteries,
Auto Light means ignition system, the lifeline of your car.
And now here again is Mr. Herbert Marshall.
It's a bit of pleasure to appear tonight on suspense,
and it is my pleasure to extend to all of you
for Auto Light, Tony Leader and his suspense cast and crew,
and myself, best wishes for the holiday season.
Next week on Radio's outstanding theater of thrills,
you will hear William Bendix in another gripping study in...
Suspense.
Herbert Marshall will soon be seen with Margaret O'Brien
in the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer production of The Secret Garden.
Tonight's suspense play was dramatized by Robert Tallman
from a story by John Collier.
Music was conducted, composed by Lucian Moraweck,
and conducted by Lud Bluskin.
The entire production was under the direction of Anton M. Leader.
In the coming weeks, suspense will present such stars
as Ethel Barrymore, Dana Andrews, Robert Montgomery,
Danny Kaye, and many others.
So make it a point to listen each Thursday to Suspense,
Radio's outstanding theater of thrills.
Next Thursday, same time, hear William Bendix.
This is the Auto Light Suspense Show.
While we in North America are enjoying an abundant Christmas,
millions of people in Europe are still hungry.
Your ten dollars sent to K.A.R.E.
will go a long way toward putting some less fortunate European family
back on the road to health, happiness, and freedom.
Good night. Merry Christmas from Auto Light.
This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.