Auto Light and its 98,000 dealers bring you Mr. Herbert Marshall.
In tonight's presentation of Suspense.
Tonight Auto Light presents a story based on fact and written by a master of suspense.
An adaptation of the 19th century born murder case called The Dead Alive.
The author Wilkie Collins, our star Mr. Herbert Marshall.
Hey Wilcox, how you hitting them kiddo?
Hello Stan, how's our bouncing, bantam and brainy baseball manager?
Feeling like a home run hollow, purring along like a set of those auto light spark plugs
of yours.
I couldn't understand you better Stan, those ignition engineered auto light spark plugs
are designed for the smoothest and most economical performance money can buy.
Wouldn't use any other hollow, they're real major league.
Thank you Stan.
Friends, if your car isn't giving you the performance it should, why not have your spark
plugs checked by your nearest auto light spark plug dealer.
He's equipped to give you expert cleaning and adjustment.
And if those spark plugs are worn or need replacing, he'll install a set of famous ignition
engineered auto light spark plugs, either standard or resistor type.
To quickly locate your auto light spark plug dealer, phone Western Union by number and
ask for operator 25.
Remember from bumper to tail light, you're always right with auto light.
And now, auto light presents The Dead Alive, starring Mr. Herbert Marshall, hoping once
again to keep you in suspense.
How did the doctor put it to me back there in London?
Your disease Mr. LeFranck is overworked, your cure is rest, your alternative is death.
Nice choice of words there, but not to be ignored.
Any excitement stirred sudden unbearable pains in my head.
The trip was restful, though the prospect of visiting a country just five years beyond
a civil war was a little disturbing.
The long standing invitation of my mother's distant relative appeared to hold a promise
of friendship and hospitality.
The very thing for a nerve ridden English barrister.
I boarded a railroad car at Boston, which deposited me at Morbic Station.
The countryside viewed from the station was as flat, as monotonous as any that the earth
can show.
If to be cured, bent in my case to be dull, then I picked the very place for the purpose.
Mr. Philip LeFranck.
Oh, yes, of course.
You must be cousin Silas.
That's right.
I didn't mean to startle you.
I was fascinated by this very interesting countryside of yours.
Let's start off on an honest footing.
This view is uninspired, Philip.
But it's good farmland.
That's most important.
Is this your luggage?
No, just these bags.
Here, I'll take the big one.
That's all right.
You carry the two small bags.
Oh, but your hand, that bandage, it must be painful.
It's just a scratch.
He couldn't hurt me.
The carriage is this way.
Our ride to Middlecroft Farm passed for the most part in silence.
In silence, seen most appropriate as we drove through a grove of stunted, twisted trees.
On the road ahead, a short, wiry little man walked towards the house.
He glanced over his shoulder, then casually angled to let us pass.
But something went wrong with our horse, when he swerved towards the man.
Watch out!
Hey!
You nearly killed that man.
Next time he'll move out of the way faster.
But you led the horse directly at him.
No matter.
That man was John Jay Gome, my overseer.
Not a very nice man, Philip.
Not nice at all.
Then why do you keep him?
Unfortunately, father left a controlling interest in this estate to my sister.
And Letty feels that Jay Gome can run things better than I can.
That's still no reason.
You might have killed the man.
In which case I would have given him the sort of burial I'd give my dog.
Not my favorite dog, mind you.
A gray house, like a huge toad, squatted massively at the end of the road.
Three barking hounds chased our carriage up to the front porch.
My cousin sent them scampering as we dismounted.
A melancholy, middle-aged woman without visible attraction of any sort, waited for us in the
hallway.
Cousin Philip, I trust the Lord sent you an easy voyage.
A delightful voyage, cousin Letty.
It's very good of you to have me.
Thank my father, rest his soul.
We shall do our best to honor the invitation he extended to your branch of the family.
Silas, did you pass Mr. Jay Gome on your way up?
Yes, I passed him.
You might have been good enough to offer him a lift.
I did, after a fashion.
This way, Philip.
I'll show it to you to your room.
Where is it, eight, Cousin Philip?
We start exactly on the hour.
Silas left me in a clean, almost sterile room.
To pass the time, I made a game of searching for some dust.
It was depressing not to finally.
I paced, I worried, read, and generally tried to keep the gloom of the house from sinking
into my bones.
It was useless.
By eight o'clock, I was morosely trying to decide whether to go down to dinner or to
repack and leave.
My stomach made the decision for me.
I walked out of my room and into the loveliest creature I had ever seen.
I'm sorry.
Oh, no, my fault.
I shouldn't run down hallways.
Of course, you're Philip.
Of course, but they told me nothing about you.
Well, I don't think they're quite sure of how to classify me.
I'm Naomi Colebrooke.
We'd better go downstairs.
We'll miss dinner.
Are you visiting, too, Miss Colebrooke?
Oh, no, I've been here over six months now.
I'm a vague sort of relative.
Lutti and Silas took me in after my parents passed away.
Oh, that was very good of them.
Yes, it was.
But I am glad to have someone else here now.
Is anything wrong?
Well, there are tensions in this house.
You may feel them.
I already have.
There's something most unpleasant about it all.
Oh, please don't let it drive you away.
I have to talk to somebody.
You see, I...
Naomi, where are you?
We're coming, Silas.
We'll talk later.
Dinner started off as a quiet affair.
Naomi, Silas, Lutti and myself were there.
Of course, the fifth person was John Jago, the fellow we'd almost run down.
He acknowledged the introduction to me, then lapsed into silence.
The only time I saw any animation on his face was when he glanced at Naomi.
Silas noticed it too.
You find Miss Naomi's face interesting, Mr. Jago.
I...
I beg your pardon.
Silas, please, don't start in again.
It's offensive for the help to be staring at you like that.
Your imagination is being overworked again, Silas.
Dear Lutti, you're so fond of Mr. Jago.
Is there one small pang of jealousy at his interest in Naomi?
Silas.
I'm sorry, Miss Lutti.
When your brother is in one of these moods, it's best that I retire.
Good night.
Good riddance.
There was no need for that, Silas.
You're too even-tempered, Naomi.
Let's put it to our guest here.
Philip, what did you think of that surly fellow's behavior?
Why, I...
I don't know.
As to looking at Miss Naomi's face, I... it constantly attracts my own gaze.
Oh.
Does it?
Yes.
Does that make it necessary for me to leave the table?
Let's both go for a walk, Philip.
I've had enough of this for one evening.
But Naomi...
Let her be.
Go, Cousin Philip.
I wish to talk to my brother alone.
The danger signal in my head and those flashes of pain did not slacken until we, Naomi and
I, were deep within the grove of trees that surrounded the house.
The moon was full, its rays filtering through the dense overhead growth of twisted branches.
We walked slowly towards a pale green glow that diffused the gray night ahead of us.
What's wrong?
Philip, your face is...
It's party.
It's pain.
The doctor warned me to avoid excitement.
Silas starts up with everyone.
And he turns his anger upon poor Mr. Jago.
Yes, they had a terrible fight the other day.
Mr. Jago had to use a knife to defend himself.
He won't bother me.
I'm not too sure.
He was furious with you at dinner.
I refuse to allow anybody to interfere with the pleasure I take from your company.
But what's causing that green mist ahead?
Oh, that's a natural line kill.
They say it's been burning for centuries.
There's a hypnotic quality about this green pit.
I can't take my eyes from it.
It terrifies me.
I keep imagining what would happen if someone were to fall in there.
Oh, they should put a fence about it.
Philip.
What?
There, by the trees.
Someone's watching us.
Huh?
Who's that?
I, uh, I hope I'm not intruding.
What do you want, Mr. Jago?
I'm not going to tell you.
I'm not going to tell you.
I'm not going to tell you.
I'm not going to tell you.
What do you want, Mr. Jago?
I don't wish to disturb you, all of this gentleman.
But I must speak to you, Miss Naomi, and private.
This is hardly the manor to approach.
Eve's dropping from behind a tree.
Oh, no, sir.
I've just been walking through this grove and came upon you.
But I must talk to this lady.
Who won't it hold until tomorrow?
It would be a great kindness on your part, a very great kindness, if you let me speak
before I rest tonight.
Very well.
We will go back to the house.
Not the house, miss.
Why not?
There are eyes and ears in the house and footsteps so soft that no person can hear them.
Then we'll speak here, where we can see all about us.
Sir, if you don't mind.
I don't want to leave you here near me.
Oh, I'll be quite all right, Philip. Mr. J. Gill will see me back to the house.
You know best.
Good night.
Good night. And thank you.
I slept what little that night. I wanted to leave.
Get away from that wretched house.
But the idea of leaving near me there all alone was unthinkable.
With the dawn, I dressed and went down to the front porch.
An angry sight met my eyes. Silence.
Holding his walking stick like a bludgeon and waving the jago.
While the little overseer crouched before him like a snarling gamecock.
The wicked blade of his knife flashing in the light.
Ah, stay back, I warn you.
You warn me. I told you to stay away from her.
She's not my style, Mr. Silas.
You impudent beggar.
Get back.
I've set my mark on you once. I may do it a second time.
I'll crush your skull.
Stop that. Here. Silas, give me that cane.
Let me go.
I said give it to me.
You meddling fool. He's gotten away.
Just as well. He handled that knife with some knowledge.
You wouldn't have fared well in that fight.
You think not, do you, cousin Philip?
May I have my stick now?
You must have it. Here.
Thank you.
And I'd like to walk through the grove unless you have some objection.
So we will insist on following him.
We will finish this now, Jago and I.
And this is a warning to you, cousin Philip.
Leave Naomi alone or you may have some of the same.
Neither of them had returned to the house by late afternoon.
Naomi stayed in her room all day.
Cousin Letty sat in her rocking chair and knitted.
Her eyes never leaving the front door as she waited fearfully.
The ugly premonition of violent death hung about the rooms.
Finally, approaching footsteps.
And we watched to see who would enter.
Silas, where is Mr. Jago?
I believe we've seen the last of that one.
Did you? You haven't brought your walking stick.
No. Don't fear, cousin Philip. I have another.
Should you want to take a stroll through the grove?
Much later that night, I sat in my room fully dressed, trying to read.
The wildest thoughts were skipping, fluttering through my mind.
Was my cousin Silas a murderer? He had all but admitted it.
And yet, someone was walking through the hall.
A light on the stealthy footstep.
I opened my door as a wide-robed, ghost-like figure descended the stairway.
It was Letty, her body rigid, staring blindly before her.
It is dangerous to row as a sleepwalker, so I followed.
Out of the house, through the grove of trees, to the mouth of the lime kiln.
She stood there, trembling in the green light.
As she took one further step towards the kiln, I reached out and grabbed her shoulders.
No! It's me! It's Philip! Letty, do you understand?
Yes, Philip. Yes. He's there. Mr. Jago is there in the kiln.
How do you know?
He called to me. His voice. He came from there.
That was a dream, Letty. You walked in your sleep.
No dream. He's in there, I tell you.
There's nothing we can do. Nobody could climb down into that pit to see.
Over there, by the tree, a long pole with a mesh iron net.
You'll see. Mr. Jago is in there. He told me so.
And in the black of that night, I set about the macabre task of fishing the kiln.
Within the hour, I had brought up a partially burned walking stick,
Jago's knife, and a small heap of charred bones.
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Herbert Marshall in Wilkie Collins' The Dead Alive.
Tonight's presentation in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Hey, Harlow, you know I signed a whole new team.
Yeah? Stan, who are they?
Why, a set of those Auto Light Resistor-type spark plugs, of course.
Oh, then you're set for a winning season, Stan.
Those Auto Light Resistor Spark Plugs are the greatest advantage.
The greatest advance in spark plugs for automotive use in the past two and a half decades.
Is that all? I thought they was the best in 25 years.
You're right, Stan. And that built-in Auto Light Resistor makes possible such advantages
as double spark plug life, smoother engine performance, and quick starts.
And the Resistor Spark Plug is only one of a complete line of world-famous Auto Light Spark
Plugs, ignition engineered for every automotive use.
That's a straight pitch, folks.
So see your nearest Auto Light Spark Plug dealer for a spark plug check soon.
He services all makes of cars, and he has ignition engineered Auto Light Spark Plugs,
either standard or resistor type.
To quickly learn his location, phone Western Union by number and ask for operator 25.
And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light.
And now, Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood sound stage, Mr. Herbert Marshall.
In Elliot Lewis's production of The Dead Alive, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
On the parlor table were lying the walking stick, the knife,
and the charred bones of John Jago.
I'd roused near me in silence, and now the four of us sat around the room,
our eyes studiously avoiding the grisly pile before us.
The light from the oil lamps failed to clear shadows from the dark corners of the parlor.
And so we sat and waited for the silence to accuse.
I didn't kill him.
You have murder on your soul.
Mr. Jago told me that too.
Oh, in your dream, I suppose.
He never cared for you, Lattie.
Why do you carry on so about him?
He was too shy to tell me.
And now he never will, for you killed him.
That is your stick, Silas.
I stumbled near the kill. It fell in.
And the knife and the bone, Silas?
You killed him, Silas.
And make the most of it.
I'm going to bed.
There's nothing more to be done tonight. We may as well all get some sleep.
I don't think I'll ever sleep again.
At least try, Naomi. Tomorrow we'll have to call in the magistrate.
Aren't you coming, Lattie?
Oh, I'll stay here with Mr. Jago.
Lattie, please.
No.
Leave her, Naomi. Come.
Oh, Philip, why did it happen?
You probably know best of all.
I know nothing.
No? What did Jago say to you the other night in the garden?
Nothing. The police will want to know.
We'd been talking. I don't recall about what.
Suddenly he seemed to go mad.
Mad? In what way?
He fell on his knees. He kissed my gar, my hand.
He cried that he was in love with me.
Poor fellow. I imagine you told him it was impossible.
He wanted me to marry him. Of course it was impossible.
Oh, Cyrus must have found it out.
That could explain the why of this murder.
Well, I can't stay here anymore.
Nor can I. Tomorrow we'll move into town until the police clear us.
And then...
What then, Philip?
Good Lord, what's that?
Oh, don't leave me.
Well, it's too late to catch whoever that was.
Someone overheard us.
Yes, someone. Here. Get into your room,
bolt your door and don't open it for anyone. You hear?
Oh, Philip, I'm so afraid.
Truthfully, darling, so am I.
If ever a house were ever cursed, this was it.
With madness or worse, mocking from every crevice and corner.
In my room, I locked the door and went to bed.
Sleep did not come easily, but it came.
I must have just dropped off when some innocence warned me of a presence in the room.
Something was gliding quietly towards the bed.
I half opened my eyes and caught the dark shadow of movement
and the momentary flash of metal.
I rolled out of bed as a knife snatched into the mattress where I'd been lying.
My assailant followed me, slashing, hacking at the pillow, the chair that I held before me.
I tried to get out of the door, but he still bolted.
I slipped the bolt and the shadow rushed driving me back.
In terror, I threw a lamp.
In terror, I threw a lamp and hit someone.
It was suddenly over.
The knife wielder had gone.
I fired a lamp, then stood, staring at the butcher knife that lay on the floor.
My being revolted in fear and anger.
I was sick, sick of this house, of my cousins, sick of waiting to be struck down in the dark.
Get up, Silas.
Who's there?
Stop pretending you're asleep.
Philip, the devil's the matter with you?
Nay, I wouldn't have had you under any circumstances.
What did you hope to gain by killing me?
Killing you.
If I wanted to kill you, cousin, I would face up to you like a man not strike in the dark.
Who else in this house would do a thing like that?
What of Letty?
Letty.
It couldn't have been a woman.
Don't underestimate our New England women, Philip.
They're strong as oxen.
You'd better come along with me while I question her.
You don't trust me?
Exactly.
Letty was still in the parlour, staring at the bones of her dead lover, sitting stoically in her chair.
Something had changed her, though.
There was an ecstatic look about her.
And for the moment, her face was...
almost pretty.
Letty.
Someone just tried to kill me.
I know.
How do you know?
Mr. Jaco told me you were going to die.
She won't grasp the fact that John is dead.
Oh, yes, I know he's dead.
But now he's closer to me than ever.
He comes to see me and talk to me.
Did you go upstairs, Letty, to my room with a knife?
Mr. Jaco told me I was pretty.
I asked him if I was.
And he told me.
He's dead now.
But he's with me all the time.
Well, Philip, are you still in the parlour?
Well, Philip, are you still quite positive it was I?
Naomi!
I ran up the stairs, Silas at my heels.
A nagging, insane thought kept tugging at my brain.
Letty, Silas and myself had been together in the parlour.
Then who was it?
What was it?
What horror was attacking Naomi in her room?
Naomi! Open this door! It's me, Philip!
Naomi, are you all right?
Stand back! I'm going to break it open!
She's not here.
The window's been smashed.
There's nobody in the yard.
Look, over through the grove, the branches sway.
Something moving through there.
That one again!
But who?
Oh, what?
Silas, can your dogs track?
Of course, they're hunting dogs.
And bring them around and put them on the scent.
Whatever that thing is,
it has Naomi.
The dogs picked up the scent and ran,
baying into the tree grove.
Silas and I, lantern spraying yellow light through the darkness,
followed.
Somewhere ahead, there was something!
Man or monster!
Without a mind!
Suddenly at the lime kiln, the dogs stopped howling.
We saw Naomi lying by the edge of the pit.
I knelt beside her,
feeling the life beat feebly through her pulse.
And then, another feeling.
The air parting behind me,
as something crept towards my back.
Something poised to push me into the kiln.
I turned sharply and a shadow flowed backwards,
crossing to the opposite side of the pit.
The green glow stippled around the form of a man.
John Jago.
Alive!
Yes, very much so.
Though it would have been nice to have Mr. Silas hang for my murder.
Your plans for me were very much more direct.
I would kill for Miss Naomi!
Not just talk like Mr. Silas!
You think she'd have our luck to you?
Someday, Mr. Silas, with you and your cousin dead.
Oh, my yes.
I would return, aiding loss of memory.
You can't work out now, John.
You best come along with us.
Oh, take me, sirs.
Come over here.
I'll be glad to.
Wait, Silas, he's too close to the pit.
A slip and we'd all be in.
Try, please.
I'm a match for you both.
Mr. Jago, I hear you.
I'm coming, Mr. Jago.
No, no, no, stay back, Letty.
I have no use for you anymore.
You said I was pretty, Mr. Jago.
You said that to me.
Letty, don't go near him.
Keep away, you stupid, ugly woman.
No.
You didn't say things like that in the lime kiln.
In the kiln.
Letty!
Keep back.
Keep back!
Mr. Jago!
No!
No!
Letty, Letty.
They're both gone.
Poor devils.
It was the next day in the carriage,
riding back to town,
near me, beside me,
the sight of her lovely face
driving away ugly thoughts of the night before.
Is it all behind us now, Philip?
All that hatred?
It's finished, my darling.
There's just you and I
and our future together.
A peaceful future.
We'll have to watch your nerves.
Nerves?
Oh, my lord.
In the excitement, I forgot all about it.
But the excitement might have killed you.
Killed!
It cured me.
That doctor was wrong.
My life was too dull.
Then excitement is what you need.
Yes.
I've been thinking about our honeymoon.
There's a wonderful old castle on the Rhine.
They say it's haunted.
This is Harlow Wilcox again speaking for Autolight,
world's largest independent manufacturer
of automotive electrical equipment.
Autolight is proud to serve the greatest names in the industry.
That's why during these early months of 1953,
the Autolight family is again saluting the leading manufacturers
who install Autolight products as original equipment.
As a climax to this salute series,
Autolight will present on both radio and television
the Easter Parade of Stars Auto Show
from New York's Waldorf Historia Hotel.
Just four weeks from tonight,
we will bring you the exciting dramatization
of the only round-the-world automobile race ever run.
The program will star Van Johnson
and will originate from the grand ballroom of the Waldorf,
where the auto show will be in progress.
That's Monday, April 6th.
And of course, you're invited to join us next week
for our regular Suspense program.
Next week, a story about heroism
as we document the attempt of three brave men
to conquer the mountain.
Our star, Mr. John Hodiac.
That's next week on Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis
with music composed by Lucian Morawick
and conducted by Lud Gluskin.
The Dead Alive was adapted for Suspense by Sam Rolfe
from the story by Wilkie Collins.
In tonight's story, Mary Jane Croft as Hurt as Naomi,
Lamont Johnson as Silas,
Jeanette Nolan as Letty,
and Joseph Kearns as Mr. Jago.
Herbert Marshall can currently be seen
in the RKO production Angel Face.
This is the CBS Radio Network.