Auto Light and its 98,000 dealers bring you Mr. Peter Lawford in tonight's presentation
of Suspense.
Tonight Auto Light presents part two of the first detective novel ever written, a tale
considered by many to be the greatest ever written, Wilkie Collins, The Moonstone, our
star Mr. Peter Lawford.
Hello, Mr. McStorley.
Have you got your Thanksgiving bird yet?
I got it all right, Harlow, but not for Thanksgiving.
What do you mean?
Well, I got the bird for my wife because my car battery is a turkey.
I forget to fill it with water and it's cold as a cranberry bog in December.
Well, you should have an Auto Light Stay Full battery, Mr. McStorley.
That's the famous battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car use.
Ah, yes, the battery would long and have a light.
Right.
Fiberglass retaining mats protect the power of every positive plate to reduce shedding
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So, friends, to quickly locate your Auto Light battery dealer whose service is all makes
of batteries, just call Western Union by number and ask for operator 25.
I'll tell you the location of your nearest Auto Light battery dealer where you can get
an Auto Light Stay Full, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal
car use.
And remember, from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light.
And now, Auto Light presents the concluding portion of Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone,
starring Mr. Peter Lawford, hoping once again to keep you in suspense.
Tell me, Mr. Blake, the diamond had belonged to your uncle?
Yes, Sergeant Cuff.
His will stated that I was to give it to his niece, Rachel, on her birthday.
And you say this Moonstone had a curse on it?
It has been said, yes, because it's believed he took it from an idol, an Indian moon god.
And those Indian jugglers you saw at the jail, you believe they stole it?
Yes.
They were in the garden outside the house when the diamond was given to Rachel.
But I've shown you our prison records, Mr. Blake.
The Indians couldn't have stolen it.
They were behind bars all last night.
Who else was at the party?
Let's see.
Rachel, her mother, Lady Julia Verinder, our cousin, Godfrey Abelwhite, Dr. Candy, their
family physician.
And the servants, what of them?
Betridge and a new housemaid.
Her name, I believe, is Rosanna.
All right, Mr. Blake, we'll look into it.
Ah, there's the house.
As soon as we entered the house, Sergeant Cuff went into Rachel's sitting room, hardly
bothering with the cabinet from where the moonstone had been stolen.
His eyes seemed to be much more taken with the door Rachel had painted and decorated
with cupids the afternoon of her birthday.
Hmm, that's quite good work.
There's a smudge on one of the cupids.
Pity.
Anyone know how it happened?
Mr. Betridge?
One of the maids petticoats with all the commotion this morning.
Pity.
Paint dry now.
Does anyone know which petticoat did it?
I don't think any of them, Sergeant.
That part of the door was the last to be painted.
Couldn't have happened this morning.
You're quite sure, Mr. Blake?
I watched her finish it about four yesterday afternoon.
It would have dried in about ten hours, about two in the morning then.
You may have put something valuable in our hands, Mr. Blake.
The smeared petticoat or whatever will bring us to the truth.
You think it was worn by the thief?
I think it was worn by someone.
There's no evidence of thievery as yet, only that the diamond is missing.
Mr. Betridge, would you tell Lady Verinded I'd like ten minutes of her time, please?
Repost, Sergeant.
All my servants have been with me for years.
If I allow you to search their clothes, it means I suspect them.
They're as honest as you are.
I'm sure they are, Your Ladyship.
It's only a question of their help, the women especially.
Now, if they knew I was going to inspect the wardrobes of everyone from your ladyship downwards...
Your servant, is this necessary?
Before we can make another step, I've also asked Mr. Betridge to get me the washing book,
to account for all the linen in case the article was sent to the washer and destroyed, and
to ask your daughter for her wardrobe keys.
Where will you start?
With Mr. Blake here, if he'll consent.
Of course.
Don't forget me, Sergeant.
I'm in the next room.
Then we'll do you next, Mr. Abelwhite.
And when you finish, may I leave for London?
Oh, it's a mere formality.
You'll all be free to go.
Here's the wash book, Sergeant.
Ah, thank you, Mr. Betridge.
And Miss Verinded's keys.
And my young lady refuses to have her wardrobe examined.
Ah-ha.
Betridge, was it explained to her?
Yes, sir.
She started to cry and said, I won't because I won't.
Well, you may return the wash book, Mr. Betridge.
Mr. Abelwhite, you may leave at any time.
Thank you, Sergeant.
That'll be all, Mr. Betridge.
Then you aren't going to serve?
All or none, sir.
Why should Rachel?
I don't understand.
Pardon my being personal, Mr. Blake.
Would it be wrong to say you're in love with Miss Verinded?
No, it wouldn't be wrong.
Love blinds to a great extent.
Look here, are you implying that...
Oh, just a moment.
Out there, in your...
Out there!
Won't you come in?
Rosanna?
Excuse me, I was looking for Mr. Betridge.
I was told he was here.
He just left, my girl.
Thank you.
Excuse me.
Rosanna?
Rosanna is the monastic.
You know her?
I've seen her once before, Mr. Blake, about five years ago.
In prison for theft.
In prison?
Well, that's the answer.
Well, it's not the old answer, Mr. Blake.
Well, you promised to hold your temper.
If I see sense in what you say.
All right.
Tell me, why does Miss Verinded refuse to cooperate to have her wardrobe examined?
Because she...
Because...
Exactly.
Because she knows more about the diamond than she's willing to tell.
Couple that with Rosanna Spearman, who was a thief, who knows how to raise money and
pledge a value without question.
Now, that is preposterous.
Why should Rachel need money?
Well, for reasons she doesn't want to disclose, something that would force her to go to great
length.
Scandal, if you'll pardon the word, sir.
This is the detective's mind, isn't it?
Suppose Miss Verinded were to suddenly decide to leave this house, refuse point blank to
help, as I think she will.
I'm sorry, Sergeant.
You don't know her.
Ah, it's a dirty little world, Mr. Blake.
And I've had a deal of experience.
I'll be the first to admit it if I'm wrong.
But I don't think I am.
The night came on and a heavy muffle mood of suspicion settled over the house.
Rachel stayed locked in her rooms and would speak to no one.
The Sergeant was wrong about her.
He had to be.
But I couldn't push the torture of his logic from my mind.
I was afraid, deeply afraid of the coming day.
The first news that terrible morning was that Rachel was going to leave the house.
The Colonel's vengeance was working in ways he never dreamed.
Miss Verinded, I'd like to say once more that your leaving is a great obstacle to the recovery
of your diamond.
Now, knowing that, you still intend to leave?
I do.
Rachel, please, Rachel, you can't.
I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Blake.
Drive on.
I stood there helplessly watching it go.
There was nothing left but the truth of Sergeant Cupp's words.
A scandal.
Some terrible secret she dare not tell.
I had to find out if I was going to help.
Rosanna, if she had helped Rachel plot the theft, she would also know her secret.
I went to the servant's hall only to find Betridge and Sergeant Cupp ahead of me.
One of the gardeners said he saw her running toward the beach walk.
Then there's a hiding place down there, if I'm not mistaken.
Hiding place?
It's almost all quicksand.
The jewel had to be kept somewhere.
Possibly the stained article of clothing, too.
Miss Verinded's accomplice recovers the diamond to take to her later.
Aye, we'd better hurry.
Will you join me, Mr. Blake?
We raced down the walk to the beach.
Rosanna was nowhere in sight.
Only her footprints.
They led us finally to the very edge of the quicksand.
Look as we might, there were no footprints returning.
At almost the same moment, the terrible meaning dawned on us both.
Did she know there was quicksand?
Yes, Sergeant, she knew.
The first time I saw her was here.
She walked into that muck, deliberately.
Ah, Rosanna wasn't the kind to scare, Mr. Blake.
She must have had her own good reason.
Back at the house, the news of Rosanna's death deepened the unhappy pall.
That afternoon, Sergeant Cuff was dismissed from any further investigation, and Lady Julia
left for London to join Rachel.
Later I left the house myself, feeling terribly depressed and useless.
I would have given my life to help Rachel.
There was no avenue left open.
I took ship for the continent the next morning, hoping that time and distance would let me
forget.
Almost a year was to pass before I returned.
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Peter Lawford in Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone.
Tonight's presentation in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Well, Harlow, now I can eat turkey instead of crow on a turkey.
Got yourself an Auto Light staple battery, eh, Mr. McSorley?
That I did, Harlow.
Then you've got the battery that stays right on the case.
Needs water only three times a year in normal car use.
Why that Auto Light staple just snaps my engine to life, Harlow.
Yes, sir, Mr. Mac, a fast dependable start every time and for a long time.
Thanks to those fiberglass retaining mats, they surround every positive plate to reduce
shedding and flaking, and give the Auto Light staple longer life, as proved by tests conducted
according to accepted life cycle standards.
So, friends, see your Auto Light battery dealer for the best in battery service and the famous
Auto Light staple, the battery that needs water only three times a year in normal car
use.
To quickly locate your nearest Auto Light battery dealer, phone Western Union by number
and ask for operator 25.
That's right, call the Western Union 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. Peter Lawford in Elliot Lewis's
production of the concluding act of Wilkie Collins, The Moonstone, a tale well calculated
to keep you in suspense.
I returned to London in June, 1849.
I was informed of all that had happened in the year that I'd been away by the family
lawyer, Mr. Brough.
Rachel's mother had died some months ago, and Rachel had been engaged to marry Godfrey
Abelwhite.
He broke off, of course, right after Lady Verinda died.
Seems he was only interested in Rachel's money.
Where is Rachel, Mr. Brough?
Here in London, living with the guardian appointed by her mother.
Has she ever spoken of me?
Not once, to my knowledge, as for the Moonstone, we've all respected her silence on that.
Why does she resent me, Mr. Brough?
I think it was your attempt to help in an affair she once kept secret, whatever her
reason.
I just can't believe that Rachel stole her own diamond.
I'm going to find out who did.
I won't presume to stop you, but how will you go about it?
I'll start where it all took place.
The house in Yorkshire.
By the Lord, Harry, Mr. Franklin, it's good to see you.
It hasn't been very happy here since you...
I know, Betridge.
That's why I'm back.
The Moonstone, sir?
Don't you think you should leave a sleeping dog later?
Suppose you find Miss Rachel had...
It won't make me stop loving her.
That's all I wanted to know, sir.
So I don't see how am I helping.
You can be wrong.
Do you remember that poor girl of ours, Rosanna Spearman?
Of course.
How could I forget?
You left a coat here, sir, and I found a letter in one of the pockets.
The rest are you, from Rosanna.
Here it is.
Sir, please follow the enclosed instructions.
Do it when you're not observed.
Go to the shivering sand at the turn of the tide.
There's a rock ledge covered with seaweed.
And attached to the rock is a chain which drops into the quicksand.
Pull up the chain.
There's the ugly place.
The tide's almost out.
There's only one rock ledge.
You go ahead, sir.
The note said do it alone.
That's her grave, too.
I'd like to hear it.
I went under the rock ledge.
The last surge of the sea fell away, and I walked out gingerly on the edge of the quicksand.
Getting down on all fours, I fell under the glistening seaweed.
After a moment, my hand touched the rusty links of the chain.
Came up easily.
Attached to the end was a rusted metal box.
I forced it open.
It was filled with a white cloth on top of which was another letter bearing my name.
I carried it all to the dry beach and unrolled the cloth.
It was a night shirt.
On its sleeve was a smear of paint from Rachel's sitting room.
And I recalled the words of Sergeant Cuff.
Find the smeared article of clothing, and you will know who took the diamond.
I looked to see if it was marked with the owner's name.
Seeing the mark, I read Franklin Blake.
My own name.
I looked again.
My own name.
Plainly marked with my own name.
The next thing I remember was being back in Betridge's room with a drink of whiskey in
my hand.
One thing for sure.
That nightgown's a liar.
A pure liar.
My nightgown, Betridge.
I couldn't have taken the diamond, but it's my nightgown.
Then it's foul play.
That's how I read it.
What about Rosanna's letter, sir?
Yes.
Sir, I have a confession.
A confession of my own misery in three words.
I love you.
Me?
What does she mean?
That's what the servants believe, sir.
They used to see her mooning at you, puttering around your room every chance she could.
Yes, I remember.
But it never entered my mind.
What more does she say?
I will be dead and gone.
The morning the moonstone was stolen, I went to do my work in your room.
Your nightgown lay across your bed, and I saw the stain of paint.
I hate Miss Rachel because you love her.
It was hard to believe you had stolen her diamond.
I had once been a thief and been in prison for it.
The nightgown is my only bond with you.
I could have helped you, but I dared not speak outright, fearing your anger that I knew your
secret.
Miss Rachel has left.
You will soon be leaving, too.
I know there is no chance you're ever returning my love, but I will keep your secret.
I go now to the shivering sands which have always drawn me.
Remember me kindly.
Rosanna's Sins.
I was at a complete loss.
My search for the thief had led directly to myself.
So now Rachel's attitude was no longer a mystery.
She had left because she believed I had stolen the diamond.
I went back to London and told Mr. Brough everything.
I suggest you do something for me, Mr. Blake.
Rosanna, I received a letter this morning from Dr. Kendi.
He was at the birthday party the night the diamond was stolen, if you remember.
Driving home from the party that night, he nearly caught his death in the rain.
He's been ill ever since.
His letter suggests he has something of great importance to discuss with you.
Will you please go see him?
Good of you to come out of your way to see me, Mr. Blake.
Thank you, Doctor.
You're looking well.
I'd like to apologize to you, Mr. Blake.
Apologize, sir?
The night of Miss Verinda's party, you and I sat next to each other.
There was some joking about the diamond, you recall?
Not distinctly, no, sir.
Just something unpleasant.
I told you I suspected you hadn't been sleeping well and to let me give you a course in medicine.
I don't think I had been sleeping well.
I decided to prove my medicine to you.
If I could give you a good night's sleep without you knowing it...
What?
I was going to come back the next day and ask you how you slept.
You would have said, fine, and without medicine.
And I was going to say, ah, but you did have medicine, sir.
Dr. Kendi, did you give me something that night?
It was a dose of laudanum, part of the opium family, in your nightcap.
I hope you'll accept my apology.
Mr. Blake?
If I took the diamond, what did I do with it?
I feel I owe you all the help I can give.
Are you willing to try an experiment?
I'd do anything, Doctor.
Just a chance that under the right conditions, taking a similar dose of laudanum, you might
repeat exactly what you did the night of the birthday.
You might very well have hidden the diamond somewhere in the house.
With witnesses to watch, it would prove you're innocent.
Yes, but it would have to be done at the Verenda house.
Well, I'll write to Miss Rachel with your permission, telling her everything.
I'm sure she wants your innocence proved as much as you yourself.
It was a very nervous time for me, waiting for Rachel's answer.
With great relief, a letter came saying she accepted Dr. Kendi's explanation.
The house was at our disposal, and she wished us all success for the experiment.
I wrote Mr. Brough, asking him to be one of the witnesses.
Then Dr. Kendi and I left for the Verenda house.
Ready, Mr. Blake?
Of course, Doctor.
Get on with it.
You want my opinion, the whole thing is unbound.
All right, Mr. Brough, we have your opinion.
Forty minims laudanum in week brandy and soda.
You're witnessing, Mr. Brough?
I'm witnessing.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Drink it, Mr. Blake.
A waste of time.
No, Mr. Blake, you may retire to your bed.
How long before this is supposed to work?
No, not before midnight.
Look, it's moving.
Moonshine.
Indian devils.
Kill Rachel.
It's getting up.
In that cabinet.
Lock on it.
They'll take it.
It's going out of the room.
Take off your boots.
Come on.
Went right to the cabinet.
Amazing.
There's a piece of crystal to simulate the diamond in the drawer.
There, there, he's found it.
It doesn't look like he knows what to do.
He dropped it.
Going over to that sofa.
He couldn't have done that before.
The sedative effect is coming on.
He slumped on the couch.
It's all over.
Let him sleep there.
When I awoke the next morning, they told me what I had done.
I proved only that Dr. Candy's joke at cause was caused by my unconscious behavior.
But now, and what had happened afterwards was still a mystery.
We had come to another blank wall.
It was a month later.
An item in the newspaper caught my eye.
Some East Indian jugglers had been in a fight in a tavern in one of the lowest parts of
London.
One of them had been stabbed.
The others had escaped.
Just at the same moment, I received an urgent message from Mr. Brough to meet him at the
wheel of fortune, the tavern mentioned in the news dispatch.
Up these stairs, Mr. Blake, quickly.
What is it, Mr. Brough?
In this room here.
Good Lord.
It's almost dawnfall, poor big guy.
On the bed lay a man dressed in sailor clothes.
On the floor next to him was a small wooden box, open and empty.
The box that had held the moonstone.
I looked down at the man's face.
There was a brown mark beneath on the bedsheet.
I saw that his dark skin was only stained.
I looked hard.
Beneath the stain and the heavy growth of beard was the face of Godfrey Abelwhite.
Hello, Cotton.
Godfrey.
Surprised, Cotton.
Godfrey, you took the diamond.
Oh, good joke.
Saw you come out of Rachel's sitting room.
You dropped it.
I picked it up.
And you kept it.
I like money.
Better reason.
Those Indians have been after me for a year.
Thought I could fool them.
Didn't, did I?
Moonstone, that's an eating jewel.
Exquisite.
Almost worth your life.
It was some months later that a small news item appeared on an inner page of the Times.
It stated that the worshippers of an ancient forehanded moon god were rejoicing over the
return of a fabulous yellow diamond to a recess in their idol's foyer.
It was a small item.
I doubt if many people read it.
Suspense.
Presented by Auto Light.
Tonight's star, Mr. Peter Lawford.
This is Harlow Wilcox speaking for Auto Light, the world's largest independent manufacturer
of automotive electrical equipment.
In 28 plants from coast to coast, Auto Light makes over 400 products for cars, trucks,
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Auto Light bullseye sealed beam units, and Auto Light original service parts for all
Auto Light electrical systems.
Auto Light is proud to serve the greatest names in the industry.
So from bumper to tail light, you're always right with Auto Light.
Next week, it will be our pleasure to present the first radio adaptation of one of the most
amazing human documents ever written.
The personal diary of Emily Wooldridge called The Wreck of the Maid of Athens.
Our star, the first lady of suspense, Miss Agnes Moorhead.
That's next week on Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with music composed by Lucian Morawick
and conducted by Wilbur Hatch.
Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone was adapted for Suspense by Richard Chandley.
Featured in tonight's cast were Betty Hofford, Ellen Morgan, Norma Varden, William Johnstone,
Ben Wright, Herb Butterfield, Eric Snowden, and Alastair Duncan.
Peter Lawford will soon be seen co-starring in the Columbia picture, It Should Happen
to You.
And remember, next week, Miss Agnes Moorhead in The Wreck of the Maid of Athens.
This is the CBS Radio Network.