Suspend.
The Armed Forces radio service brings you another tale starring Mr. James Stewart in
the rescue.
A story well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Mr. Atherton's office.
I'm sorry he's out at the moment.
May I take a message?
A routine office lie.
You protect yourself that way from the world outside.
My private office was soundproof, violence proof.
It was removed from the world as a monk cell, and that's the way I wanted it.
Mine was a respectable public relations job for a national committee with headquarters
in the wardman, one of oldest and most respectable hotels in the capital.
It was a March day of sudden warmth, the kind of pre-spring day you get in Washington.
The air conditioning wasn't on yet, the window was open, the window was open.
And it was through that window that the world of violence suddenly came to me in a way I
shall never forget.
I was dictating to my secretary.
Shall I read back that last sentence Mr. Atherton?
Yes Helen, please do.
Your recent contribution couldn't have arrived at a more timely moment nor in a more timely
amount.
In fact...
In fact, it may make the difference...
Good heavens, what's that?
What is it Helen?
Girl, girl, she's on the ledge outside the window.
What?
They're trying to get her back into her room.
Don't grab at her, she'll jump.
Oh Mr. Atherton, how horrible.
She's going to jump.
Here, what are you doing out there?
Don't just stand there, now go back to your room.
If you jump it won't be a pretty death, you know.
You'll go right through that glass marquee down there.
Mr. Atherton, I feel sick.
Go on now, now go back to your room.
Come on now, they'll help you.
No they won't, they'll kill me.
It was the first thing she said, and as she said it she looked straight at me with large
desperate eyes.
She was a beautiful girl.
I noticed that, and it seemed to make what she was about to do all the more terrible.
The other windows of the hotel were open, people leaned out of them watching.
Just behind her in the room catty corner to mine was a nurse and a husky looking man in
a white intern's jacket.
They were tense, silent.
They're trying to take me away from here, and then they'll kill me.
No, now, now get hold of yourself.
It's just a nurse and an intern.
There's another man in there.
He says he's Dr. Broon, but he isn't.
There he is, see?
That isn't Dr. Broon.
I'm Dr. Broon, and this girl is my patient.
They're trying to get her to a hospital, and you can all help us prevent a fatal accident
by leaving your windows and removing her audio.
He's not Dr. Broon.
Dr. Broon says I'm not sick.
Oh please, please, if you'll just stand on your window sill and hold out your hand, I
think I could reach it and get to your room.
If you'll try that sir, I'll be there.
I'll be there.
I'll be there.
I'll be there.
I'll be there.
I'll be there.
I'll be there.
I'll be there.
If you'll try that sir, I shall hold you responsible for whatever accident occurs.
Now help us persuade her to come back.
No!
I'll jump first.
I've warned you sir.
Won't you?
Oh won't you just hold out your hand?
Oh don't you think you could go back to your own window?
It's much closer for you.
If you won't help me, at least phone Dr. Broon, then you'll know.
Call him.
Oh please call him.
Oh look, the doctor, what's he doing?
Hey don't try that.
You couldn't hold her if she jumped.
Of course he couldn't.
What a silly thing to do.
Behind her, the doctor suddenly climbed out on the windowsill and reached towards her,
as she'd asked me to do.
With my warning, she'd moved a few feet along the ledge, away from her window.
And that was my responsibility.
That involved me.
You'll phone Dr. Broon.
You will?
You will?
Shall I get him for you Mr. Atherton?
Wouldn't it be quicker just to phone downstairs? I'm sure they'll know.
Everything we can.
Pardon me.
Main desk.
This is Mr. Atherton. I want to find out about the girl on the fourth floor,
like everyone else in the hotel.
We're terribly sorry Mr. Atherton.
The ambulance is waiting at the side entrance.
And if you'll just bear with us, I'm sure everything will be...
No, I'm not making a complaint. I just want to find out who she is, who the doctor is.
Oh, of course, of course Mr. Atherton.
Why, she's just a government girl. Her name is Hillary Sellers.
And she and her mother came here last fall.
Her mother? Where's her mother now?
Well, it's an odd coincidence Mr. Atherton, but she committed suicide several weeks ago.
Oh, not here in the hotel, you understand. And I can assure you, today is the first time...
Never mind that. Tell me, who's in there with the girl now?
Why, that's her doctor and a nurse and...
And is his name Dr. Broon? Is that Dr. Broon?
Yes, yes, that's right, Dr. Broon.
Are you sure it's he?
Oh, certainly. You see, he came to take her to a hospital and he promised there'd be no trouble.
And then this had to happen, but I assure you...
I sat there for a moment, angered by the brutal indifference of the clerk.
And I stood up and I went to the window.
He was still there on the ledge, waiting, quiet and motionless.
Did you... did you find him?
Oh, Hillary, listen to me. Now, Dr. Broon is a psychiatrist, isn't he?
Yes.
And your mother committed suicide, didn't she?
Yes, yes, but...
But now you must face the facts.
Now, you're sick and the doctor is just trying to help you so that what happened to your mother won't happen to you.
No, no, Dr. Broon said it wouldn't. I'm not sick.
Oh, but you're proving you're sick by standing out there and risking your life.
Now, now, go back to your window. They'll help you.
She just stared at me for a moment and then she moved.
Slowly she inched her way backwards until she reached the window.
The nurse and the intern helped her inside.
The window was closed behind her, a curtain drawn.
In a moment, people began to leave their windows. I left mine and that was that.
Except that it wasn't.
I tried to take up the day's business again, failed.
That... that face, that voice, the tragedy of Hillary Sellers kept intruding like a bad conscience.
And finally I gave it all up. I dismissed Helen for the rest of the day and I went down to the lobby for a pack of cigarettes.
And then I found myself heading down the hall, irresistibly drawn to the side entrance.
At the side entrance stood the ambulance.
No one was about and after a moment I hurried back into the hall.
And there, as I passed the elevator, I saw what was now the last thing in the world I wanted to see.
The doors opened. I stepped back out of the way at the right end of the hall.
I wanted to turn my back but I didn't. We always cast a sidelong glance at horror.
And so I stood there and I watched the motionless figure on the stretcher covered by a sheet.
They'd given her some sort of drug.
The intern carried one in, Dr. Brew and the other.
The ambulance was loaded with its quiet cargo and it left.
And the thing was over. It was done.
But then I played the fool.
I did something I knew better than to do but I had to. I just, I had to do it.
I found a phone booth in the lobby and a phone book.
Let's see now. Broom. B-R-U-N-E, Broom.
That's Kimball. K-I-2-8-9-8.
Dr. Broom's office. Is, is Dr. Broom in? Who's calling, please?
Is Dr. Broom in? Why, who is this, please?
This is Atherton. Lee, Lee Atherton.
Yes, Dr. Broom is in, Mr. Atherton, but he's with a patient at the moment.
He's there. He can't be.
I beg your pardon. He is and has been for half an hour.
Listen to me. This is terribly important.
I want to know if you're absolutely certain that Dr. Broom is in his office.
Did you actually see him when he came in?
Of course he's here. I was in the consulting room with him when the phone rang just now.
May I ask why?
Well then get him. I've got to talk to him now. Go on, get him.
Well, all right. Hold on.
Hello?
Dr. Broom? Yes, Dr. Broom.
This is Lee Atherton, doctor. You don't know me.
But I've got to find out if Hillary Sellers is a patient of yours. Do you know her?
What's happened to her? Where is she?
I don't know, but a man impersonating you just drove her away from the Wardman Hotel in an ambulance.
Nurse, call the district police. Get Lieutenant Rogers on the phone.
Dr. Broom?
I'll explain very quickly, Mr. Atherton.
Hillary Sellers came to see me yesterday for the first time.
Told me Kurt Raden was treating her mother. Now, Raden is an unlicensed quack.
Wait a minute, wait a minute, doctor. I thought her mother committed suicide.
Supposedly she jumped from the window in Raden's office.
What, she didn't?
I think she was thrown.
You mean Raden murdered her?
Yes, and I informed the police of it this morning.
But how do you know?
Hillary told me Raden was treating her mother for a heart condition with some sort of electrical apparatus.
Yes?
I checked the apparatus with the police this morning. It would be dangerous even to a person with a normal heart.
Oh, I see. But why is Raden after Hillary?
Because he thinks she knows what he's done and he's got to get rid of her.
He ducked out of his office this morning just before the police arrived.
But I'm sure she doesn't know about this.
No, she believes it was suicide. And she's never even met Raden.
I see.
Here's your call, doctor.
Oh, all right. Good-bye, Mr. Atherton.
Good-bye, doctor.
And then I called the police too. Gave them all the information I had.
Beyond that, there was nothing to do but wait.
Later, as I walked through the lobby, I passed a woman seated in a chair that faced the elevator.
She was utterly nondescript, wearing dark clothes and a black hat.
But after I entered the elevator, I gave her a second look through the glass.
There was something about that face.
This whole dreadful business was discoloring everything.
Helen had left the door open for me and I walked through the anteroom into my office.
I went over to the desk and sat down, lit a cigarette.
Hello?
Mr. Atherton?
Yeah.
This is Hunter Rogers, District Police.
I thought you'd like to know that the ambulance has been located, abandoned on a side street in Georgetown.
I'll let you know when we catch him. I'm going down there myself.
Good. Fine. Thank you very much, Lieutenant Rogers.
Good-bye.
And then, again, I did something I didn't want to do, but I had to.
There was that woman in the lobby.
I had to take another look at that woman in the lobby.
I took the elevator down, got out.
She was still there, seated in her chair.
She was talking to a man who stood beside her. His back was to me.
As I walked by, I looked at her very carefully and suddenly I recognized her.
It was the nurse, out of uniform.
I looked at the man. Yeah, Raiden.
And in that instant, I understood everything.
Somehow, they had lost Hillary in the hotel,
carried the nurse out on the stretcher and laid a false trail to Georgetown with the ambulance.
And now they returned to find her, to kill her while they still had the chance.
For them, the safest spot in Washington was the hotel.
For Hillary, it was a death trap.
I went quickly into a phone booth, started to call the police.
And then I saw Raiden suddenly jerk his head upward toward the mezzanine above the lobby.
He said something to the woman and quickly started toward the stairs.
I left the phone booth and followed him.
I knew he'd seen only one thing, Hillary.
I darted up the stairs just in time to see him enter the door at the end of the mezzanine.
Come on in, friends. Come on in. I'm Jack Clark. What's your name?
Never mind. Look, where did the man go came in here just now?
I don't see him. Man? What man?
Well, just a few seconds ago. You must have seen him. And just before that, there was a girl.
Oh, a girl. Well, listen, friend, girls spell trouble. Nothing but trouble.
Forget it. I can't have a drink and forget it.
No, no, I don't want to drink it. Just tell me, where did he go?
I'll find you a drink, friend. Now you wait right here.
A drunken fool staggered off through the crowd and I looked around very carefully.
The room was jammed almost entirely with men there standing around in groups drinking, all talking at once.
I couldn't see Raiden anywhere, nor Hillary.
But I noticed an exit across the room and I started to make my way toward it.
Here you are, friend. Here's your drink. You thought I'd forgotten you, huh?
Well, not Jack Clark, see? Well, here, here, take it.
No, no, no. Thank you very much, but I can't. I've got to go.
Go? Oh, you can't go yet. The party's just started.
I know, I know, but I...
Oh, so you won't drink with me, huh? Too good for me, huh?
Don't start that. Now, look, you wait right here. I'll be back in a moment.
I broke away from him and pushed my way toward the exit across the room.
I was wasting precious time. Raiden might have caught up to Hillary already.
I got out and closed the door behind me.
I was in a little recess off the mezzanine.
Just across from him there was another door.
Well, the only thing I could do was try it.
And think not that I, the pale man with the child with dreams...
Inside, I discovered about 20 women and a sprinkling of small boys
seated in neat little rows facing the opposite end of the room.
There on the platform stood an extremely tall, emaciated young man
with straight yellow hair and his head thrown back, eyes closed.
The audience was listening to him intently.
I looked around. I didn't see Raiden.
A woman was seated near the door alone. I tiptoed over to her.
Really?
Excuse me, madam, but did you see a man?
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but this is a matter of life and death.
I must know if you saw a man come in here a few minutes ago.
Really?
Please, please, I must know.
All right, if you must know, I certainly did.
And I'm going to complain to the management about all you people bursting in here.
Where is he? Where'd he go?
He walked right down the aisle and out through the door behind Mr. Quilliam.
And don't you dare do the same thing. Mr. Quilliam won't...
I didn't wait to hear anymore.
I went down the aisle, around the platform to the door at the rear,
but apparently Mr. Quilliam was unaware of my presence.
I went out quickly, breathing a sigh of relief.
But as I closed the door behind me, I felt far from relieved.
It was a storeroom, piled high with tables, chairs, sad bits of old holiday decorations.
I sputtered another door and as I ran toward it, I wondered if Hillary was gone through too.
To my surprise, it was on the second floor dining room.
It was deserted now, except for a string quartet practicing on the stage.
I started toward them and then I stopped.
And there, standing in rapt attention to the music, was Hillary,
safe and alive, listening as though hypnotized.
She stood there, her lovely face softened by the music,
and all at once she turned and looked at me.
No!
Hillary. Hillary.
Now it's all right. I want to help you.
No! No!
But you mustn't run away again.
I got away from them, all three of them, and I can get away from you.
Hillary, I'm trying to help you.
I won't go back to them.
Please.
They'll kill me.
Hillary, listen to me. You were right.
That was not Dr. Broom.
I've talked to the real Dr. Broom and he says you're perfectly sane. You have nothing to fear.
Please, we are rehearsing.
I don't believe you. When I was out there, you told me I was not sane and you made me go back.
They want to kill me.
Please.
As she said it, the door near the stage slowly opened and through it came the raid.
I grabbed Hillary by the arm and I dragged her through the sliding doors in the main entrance.
I glanced down the hall toward the elevator, but it was too far.
Raid would be halfway across the dining room by now.
So we took the stairs and we ran down, down, further down, all the way to the basement.
There we could find a way out of the hotel.
At the bottom of the stairs, however, Hillary stopped.
Where are you taking me?
Away. Away from him.
Away? From who?
But you saw him in the dining room. That's your kidnapper.
I don't believe you. I don't believe you.
Hillary, you must believe me. Quickly, he's coming.
There was no time now to get out to the streets.
I pushed her through the nearest door and closed it, but for a tiny crack through which I could see the stairs.
In a moment, Raiden's feet appeared and then his hand with a gun in it.
I closed the door quickly and fumbled at the lock and it worked.
In the back room, someone was operating what sounded like a pressing machine,
but there was another door and I pulled Hillary after me.
We were in the laundry.
It was deserted and in its windowless, unlighted dusk, I could see the huge white shapes of the washing vats.
I pushed Hillary behind one of them.
And then behind the door, leaning in the corner, was a short, smooth tube of four and I grabbed it.
And then I stood there and waited.
Yes, yes, I'm coming.
I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know it was locked.
Where is she?
There's nobody here. What do you mean?
Don't lie to me. I saw them.
But sir, I'm all alone here.
I smashed his gun arm into my club.
He turned toward me, momentarily confused. I raised my club again and I brought it down.
I glanced off his temple and he slumped heavily to the floor.
He lay there, quite still.
A tailor appeared in the doorway, dazed.
The police. I'm going to call the police.
Suddenly, Hillary reached up and picked Raiden's gun up.
Before I could make a move, she sprang to her feet and stood there, facing me, holding the gun directly at my stomach.
Who are you? Who are you?
Hillary, Hillary, it's over.
He, there, that's Kurt Raiden.
He murdered your mother.
She didn't commit suicide.
And you're sane, don't you understand? You're sane.
You, you're not real.
You came out of my mind.
Hillary, stop it.
This afternoon in the window, you were my own mind telling me the truth.
That I am insane, like my mother.
Now you're my own mind telling me what I want to hear. That I'm safe.
No, Hillary, no. I'm real.
And you're safe. Now listen to me.
But I know the truth now.
I'm insane like my mother, but I won't stay here. I'll die. I can do it.
Now. I can kill myself.
I hit the gun the instant she pulled the trigger and the bullet tore a groove across the fleshy part of my hand, buried itself in the wall.
I stood there, looking at my hand, which was bleeding.
And then I looked at her.
And I saw to my astonishment that her face had relaxed.
And she moved towards me.
Slowly, closer and closer.
And she reached out her hand to touch the blood on my hand.
Blood?
You're bleeding.
You are real.
You are real.
Yes.
Yes, Hillary, I'm real.
And it is true about your mother.
She didn't kill herself.
And you're safe.
Yes.
Yes, safe.
And I can believe what you tell me?
Yes, Hillary, you can believe me.
You can believe everything I tell you and everything I'll ever tell you.
What's your name?
This is the United States Armed Forces Radio 3.
This is the United States Armed Forces Radio Service.
The United States Armed Forces Radio Service.
The United States Armed Forces Radio Service.