Auto Light and its 98,000 dealers bring you Mr. Charles Boyer in tonight's presentation
of Suspense.
Tonight, Auto Light presents the true story of a man who alone was responsible for most
of the methods of police detection in use today. It's called the Bertillon Method. Our
star, Mr. Charles Boyer.
Only a few days left to sign up for the Auto Light family charity drawing. This is Harlow
Wilcox reminding you that unless you register by this Monday, May 3rd, you'll miss out on
the greatest opportunity ever offered for your church, hospital, school, or other favorite
charity to share in $100,000.
Listen to what this Connecticut woman recently said.
My name is Mrs. Leon Barr. I have just signed up for this drawing. I think it's a wonderful
opportunity for people to help their pet charities. And if my name is selected, I shall designate
our Greenwich Hospital.
So act fast. Sign up tomorrow at any or all of these Auto Light family car dealer showrooms.
The Soto, Hudson, Plymouth, Dudabaker, Dodge, Willis, Nash, Packard, Kaiser, or Chrysler.
Remember, there's nothing to try or buy, no obligation, except printing your name and
address. But if you're one of the 25 selected, you will designate your favorite recognized
charity to share in $100,000.
But remember, there are only a few days left to register, so make sure you sign up tomorrow.
And now Auto Light presents transcribed Mr. Charles Boyer in the Bertillon Method, hoping
once again to keep you in suspense.
Paris. At the turn of the century and the fall of spring rain. And a place of Paris.
The bois. A place of fountains and winding promenades. And now of this. A drip of rain
on leafless trees and the body of a man lying on a thawing earth. A man doubled over, wrapped
in tar paper, bound tightly with rope. Murdered man. And kneeling over him, Gérard, help
me here. Help me untie these ropes. Alphonse Bertillon, detective of the French Cierte.
He spent his life putting science to work for the law. He studied and classified human
skulls. He measured every bone in the human body and discovered that the measurements
of no two human beings were exactly alike. He called his system anthropometry and applied
it to apprehension of criminals. And something more to know about him. That now, whenever
violence and murder is done, every time Scotland Yard catches a Crippen, or the Cierte, a Landry,
or the FBI, a Dillinger, silent tribute is paid to this man. To Alphonse Bertillon for
reasons such as this. Anything in his pockets, Gérard? Only these coins. Nothing else.
An event of spring, eh, Monsieur Bertillon? And no identity. And no identity. Now the
tar paper, the rope, were removed from him. I'll want them in my laboratory, Gérard.
Oh, of course, of course, Monsieur Bertillon. I'm yours, you, Gérard? The tar paper and
the rope in the laboratory, as you wish it, sir. I will gather them up. Wait. Sir? Hold
your lantern close. Here. These wounds about his head. He was struck from behind. Perhaps
as he walked the path there. No. No? Now the lantern, here, Gérard, over his hands. The
hands of a man who has done no manual labor. And here, Gérard, you see this? His sleeve,
sir? His sleeve. His right shirt sleeve. With his cleaner, new-word on the left. Perhaps
as he fell his left arm. Not as he fell. There are men of whom this thing of the shirt sleeves
is characteristic, Gérard. Oh? Yes. Men who deal with writing, with pens, with ink. Who
wear on their right sleeve a special cuff to protect it from stains, from smudges. Yes,
I've seen such cuffs. An office clerk, maybe? Or an accountant. Such a man whose hands are
soft and marked with toil, as these ones are. And Gérard. Yes, sir? Where murder is, where
death is, there is also something else. Always something else. Identity of the victim, of
his murderer. Cover him, Gérard. Cover him from the rain. Inspector Camuscas? Yes, Bertillon.
What do you wish? To give you the report, sir, of the tests I have made in the laboratory.
The men of science. Hey, Bertillon, the students, the searcher, the player with test tubes and
microscopes. That is the man you are, eh, Bertillon? You wish to hear the report, sir?
And the working detective, whose only materials are of informers and drunkards and whisperings
and small vengences. You still sniff at these men, Bertillon? At their methods? No, no,
sir. I respect them very highly. Therefore, you must respect me, your chief, very highly.
What are the reports, Bertillon? The results of the test tube in the microscope, sir, and
the pattern of the murder of the man we found in the bar. Excellent, excellent, and eloquently
spoken. Well, go on, go on. That he was struck and murdered in a wine cellar. That he was
then dragged into a second room filled with sawdust, sand and coal. And then into a third
room, a room always in blackness, without windows. I marvel, Bertillon, and I bow. And
it is needless for me to ask if you know where all this took place. The address, perhaps?
I believe it was in a house somewhere along the Seine, which would explain the presence
of sand stuck to the tar paper. And the room always in blackness and without windows. Surely
you know, Bertillon? Only a shirt collar under the microscope and two colorless blind parasites.
A species of blind beetle that can live only in a pitch black room. And on the coat and
vest, a silly of alcoholic fermentation. Which? Which proved the wine cellar. Exactly, sir,
which proved a wine cellar. I marvel. Indeed, I marvel at you, Bertillon. And at another
thing also. What thing? How rich we are in knowledge and information and deduction. And
how ignorant we are of a simple thing. A victim's identity. Not ignorant at all. For his identity
is known. Ah. Yes, sir? By the alchemy of this system of yours of weights and measures
and contours and proportions. No, sir. Not this system, then. Another system. Well, we
found a wallet. In it, his name is address. A boy this morning passing at some distance
from the scene stumbled across it and brought it to his father, who brought it to us. Excellent
system. The deceased is Charles Tellier, 33 rue Saint-Michel. And we know it is he, since
a photograph which was in the wallet is a likeness of the victim. Also, here, he was an accountant
and matched against our records a thief who left our presence two years ago. Also, ex
quivitist, this finding of wallets with a wife named Lucille. But the name of the murderer,
the murderer, Perthéon. Nowhere? Find him. Yes? Mrs. Tellier? Yes. I am Alphonse Bertillon,
surety. Of Charles? I'm sorry. Do not be. My husband is an unlucky man. Whatever he chooses
to do inevitably turns out badly. But when he chooses to break the law, he is caught
follows. He is dead. Very well. Thank you. Wait. Yes? He was murdered. He is dead, he
was murdered. And it will be his bad luck to lie in a potter's field. There is a necessity
to find his murderer, Mrs. Tellier. Yes? Who murdered him then, and why? I don't know.
And this. What? There is not very much I do know about him. Only that he worked, appeared
at a certain hour in the evening, knocked promptly, was fed, disappeared or stayed according
to what mysterious thing moved him. Now dead. Now dead, sir. And it would please me if you
left now. Did he still work at bookkeeping? At Dumier and Company? The actuary is under
Gilbert Street. As I said, Mrs. Tellier, I am sorry. Be sorry then? And as I said, it
would please me if you left. Yes, yes, of course. Ink pot, pens, a pad of scratch paper.
Which are the three things I allow each of my employees to hold in his desk? So would
Mr. Tellier's desk. Feel. Go ahead and feel. Nothing else in the desk drawer is there. Inflexible
rule. No small objects to hint of motive for murder. No packets of potions or letters of
love. Yet I must tell you this. Down the street now there is a shop. And in this shop of Mr.
Cabasu there are fabulous dresses which must cost each three times the salary of Charles
Tellier. Three times his salary, Mr. Cabasu. Then this Charles Tellier must be a rather
poor man, Mr. Bertillon. Then why should he appear frequently in front of your dress shop?
And this he did. So his employer told me. Why should he do a thing like this? It's to
think about, isn't it? It is really to think about, really. Married? What? I say, he is
married? What? I say, are you married? Oh yes. Yes indeed. Is this your wife? What? I say,
is this your? Oh, my wife. Certainly. Who else would write such an inscription upon a
picture because you are you and I am me, my love, Marcel. Well, a sister? True, true indeed.
However, this is my wife. I compliment you. I often do too. This dress business you have
here, very successful, isn't it? I am fortunate. And your home in the back must be luxurious.
May I compliment you again? Of course. Your clothes, exquisite. Thank you. Great taste.
Less than elegant, I am afraid, for I travel in them to Brussels this evening. Else I would
be wearing a touch of brocade and a velvet collar. Nice. Oh yes. My wife should be here
soon. It's a scent she prefers. Yes. Now, another thing. Of course. Is there a seller
here? A seller? Seller. Oh no. Wine seller. No. Monsieur Cabassu. Yes. I don't have a
warrant. But therefore you cannot search. I wouldn't think of it. Of course. Now. Yes.
Why should you want a warrant for these particular premises? Come in, my dear. Monsieur Bertillon
was just on his way out. Hurryedly. So there is not time for an introduction. Carriage.
Carriage. Carriage. Disirrity. And therefore he is the murderer. What are you talking about?
Cabassu. Certainly he. Possibly his wife. The murderer? Oh murderers. Because? Because
he's an older man married to a younger woman. But without a seller, dear Bertillon. Older
man, yes. And married to a younger woman, yes. But without a seller. You said it yourself.
There is a seller. What? I'm going back there, sir. I'm going to break into the shop and
there will be a seller. The very one in which was murdered, Tellier. Unless you will issue
a warrant, so I may search. Impossible. There are no grounds on which to issue a warrant.
Merely that he is married to a younger woman. And a murder victim, right and about. At your
own risk then. No warrant. Yes, sir. And if you are shot for breaking into a shop and
a home, we will disavow any knowledge of it. Yes, sir. Men have been shot and killed, you
know, for exactly that. Seven last year, I looked it up. Good luck, Bertillon. Yes, sir.
Auto Light is bringing you Mr. Charles Boyer in The Bertillon Method. Tonight's presentation
in radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense. Listen to this on the spot interview
recorded in Bronxville, New York. And what is your name, officer? Patrolman James Morris
at the Bronxville Police Department. I understand that you signed up for the Auto Light family
charity drawing, is that right? That's right. Uh-huh. And should your name be selected,
how would you care to designate the money? I would split it three ways. Cancer fund,
heart fund, and Bronxville PBA. Very fine. And may I wish you good luck. Thank you very
much. Have you signed up yet? Are you giving your favorite recognized charity, either local
or national, the unique opportunity to share in $100,000 in cash? There's absolutely no
cost to you, no obligation at all. All you do is sign your name and address on a registration
form at any Auto Light family car dealer showroom, and you may be one of the 25 persons selected.
Just think of the thrill you would get when you named your favorite charity to share in
$100,000. Registration closes this Monday, so get down to any or all of these car dealer
showrooms, DeSoto, Hudson, Plymouth, Studebaker, Dodge, Willis, Nash, Packard, Kaiser, or Chrysler.
Remember, only a few days left. And now Auto Light brings back to our Hollywood
soundstage Mr. Charles Boyer in Elliot Lewis's presentation of the Bertillon Method, a true
story, well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Bertillon's methods were not only of weights and dimensions by tape and scales, but depended
too upon measures of the mind. He would say, ask yourself two questions about every premeditated
murder. Who profits from this crime? Where is the woman? And prove that 90% of all major
crimes have a woman next to them. And said, I distressed, a man who always smiles, and
wouldn't, if the occasion demanded it, disguise himself in the rough clothes of a French workman
in order to break into a suspect's home. To break into a suspect's home and get caught.
You there, put up your hands. I have a pistol here and I shall not hesitate to use it, so
put up your hands. Yes, ma'am. Come closer. Yes, ma'am. Gently, for I'm skilled with
this weapon. Yes, ma'am. What vileness did you come here to commit? Theft. I am a thief.
Yet. Ma'am. Have I not seen you before? I doubt it, sincerely, having spent so much
time in prison. How did you get in here? The cellar. The cellar? Yes, the wine cellar.
Liar. Ma'am. The trap door to the cellar is still nailed down. Therefore. Therefore,
I did not break in through the cellar. Therefore, you are a liar. Yes, ma'am. A liar and a thief.
Yes, ma'am. With no shame. I should be in jail. Or worse. Worse. Fortunate it is that
my husband is left for Brussels. Ah, he has a great temper, your husband. And he perhaps
would kill me for this insult of breaking into your house. He has the temper to kill.
Who are you? Liar and thief, who should be given to the police. As you shall. As you
shall. The Chardonne came, complimented Madame Cabassu upon her vigilance, her costume, and
her bravery, and arrested her thief and prowler. Then took him to a precinct station and led
him to a cell. When? And precisely here the comedy ends, my colleagues, for I am Alphonse
Bertillon of the French sureté. Call my chief, Monsieur Camasquès. Which, after an hour
of discussion and compassion for the fantasies of thieves, to prove a point they did. And
Monsieur Camasquès, chief of the sureté, came to the precinct station. Release him.
It is he. Alphonse Bertillon. Two days later, Bertillon received word that Monsieur Cabassu
had returned from Brussels, and was now once again in the bosom of his elegant shop and
home. Bertillon went there, and Monsieur Cabassu. Since you have chosen to interrupt my wife
and myself at dinner, Monsieur Bertillon, I am but pleased to offer you a place at our
table. Will you?
I'm honoured, Monsieur. Thank you.
But Jean, this, the criminal of whom I have told you, the thief.
Was it not an adventure we had, Madame? I, in the role of a thief, and you, how well
you played your part. Exquisitely.
But Jean, I will not sup with the criminal.
I assure you, my dear, he is no criminal, and this matter of his illegal entry into
my home while I was in Brussels, we shall discuss properly over sherry and partridge.
Marcel?
Yes, dear.
Set a place for Monsieur Bertillon, the server of porcelain.
Please, sit down, sit down, Monsieur.
Oh, thank you. May I?
May you what?
Make an observation upon the elegance of your dinner table, the crystal, the porcelain,
the silver-shaving dishes.
Make it then.
Stunning.
It is how we conduct ourselves at all times. The precise accessories for the precise occasions.
When one must eat, one must eat with elegance. Monsieur?
Yes?
What are you doing?
Your plate, Monsieur. And your silver. He's sketching, Jean.
Sketching?
Yes.
Sketching what?
You.
Why?
You have an interesting face.
Oh?
Exceptionally.
Another pose, Monsieur.
Just a thief, now an artist.
Oh, not really an artist. I have an exceptional eye for proportion, that's all.
Come look at it, Jean.
Not very flattering.
Well, it's not my intention to flatter.
But your intention is?
To prove you are a criminal.
Jean?
Tellier was a young man, as you are young, Madame. And you, Monsieur Cabassou.
Of me what?
You are a possessor of a cellar. Why are you ashamed of your cellar, Monsieur?
Why did you lie about it? What did you say you did not have?
Get out!
Of course. Good night.
At first, no cellar. And all at once, Inspector, a cellar. True.
Now, why should a man lie about a cellar?
Well...
Give me one reason why a man, any man, should lie about a cellar.
Would you lie about your cellar if someone should say to you,
Inspector Camasquès, is there a cellar in your home? Would you say no?
Not unless...
Ah, not unless you had committed a murder in your cellar.
True, true.
Therefore, I ask that you issue a writ of arrest.
Listen to me.
I am sure he's a murderer.
Listen to me.
Very well. Mr. Cabassou is an important man.
And why not?
Since he has committed an important murder.
And if I issue a writ of arrest and he is taken into custody,
and you cannot prove your accusations, do you realize...
I can prove them.
Oh, in this envelope here, a sketch of Mr. Cabassou,
and the proportions I have indicated here in centimeters,
length of jaw to full length of face, eye socket to side of forehead, etc., etc.
Yes, yes.
Now, I present you with this other data.
Please, compare them.
Yeah, he issued a writ, Inspector.
Yes.
What is the meaning of this?
Police!
Where is Mr. Cabassou?
He is asleep.
Where asleep? Quickly, quickly, where asleep?
His suite is the closest to the head of the stairs.
Wait, wait!
Don't go!
What?
Up, get up!
You're under arrest.
What is the meaning of this?
Up, out of bed, out of bed, quickly.
But why? What?
You are under arrest.
Here is the writ. Murder.
Here.
Put on your trousers.
This is an outrage. You will see...
Murder is always an outrage.
This is infamous.
I will make you pay.
Because you are a man of importance.
A man of influence.
Yes.
Because you are Jean Cabassou.
Yes.
Surveyor of elegance to the wealthy.
Yes.
And no longer Jean Plagnier.
I said, and no longer Jean Plagnier, Monsieur.
What?
Abash, thief, cutthroat.
How did you know?
Friend to a murdered man.
Impossible, Pichouche.
Not impossible.
You must have a memory for the time some years ago when you were measured at a small police station
for the proportion of the length of jaw to the length of face, of eye socket to the side of forehead.
Et cetera, et cetera.
That you have changed the color of your hair, that you have now a mustache, that you have gained weight.
Nothing. No disguise.
For to disguise the length of an ear, of bone stretch, eh? Impossible.
Listen, very well.
I am Jean Plagnier, but now I am respectable and honorable man.
Exactly why you had to commit murder, to maintain this attitude.
Then you know about Charles Tellier.
Of course. He was arrested with you, also a thief.
Now come back to haunt you with your old sin, blackmail, Monsieur.
Yes.
An apology.
First, I thought this a crime of passion, jealousy.
That your wife, lovely woman...
She had nothing to do with it.
Lovely woman.
Monsieur Cabassou, I arrest you in the name of the Republic of France for the murder of Charles Tellier.
Alphonse Bertillon, a man who said,
One who tries to hide his past is a liar and a fool, for somehow it races to catch up with him and in devious ways overtakes him, destroys him.
Always.
Who set a path for modern day science of criminology.
Who left behind countless weapons of detection.
Who was one of the greatest forces for law the world has ever known.
Suspense.
Presented by Auto Light.
Tonight's star, Mr. Charles Boyer.
This is it. The last announcement.
The giant Auto Light family charity drawing closes this Monday, May 3rd.
So if you haven't registered in this $100,000 event, you'd better hurry.
Your favorite charity may miss the opportunity to collect thousands of dollars just because you neglected to sign up.
So follow the example of this woman who was interviewed recently in Bronxville, New York.
Hello there, I'm Bob Emmerich. And what is your name?
I'm Mrs. E.W. Lewis.
I understand that you just signed up for the Auto Light family charity drawing, is that right?
That's right.
Now should you be selected, what charity would you choose?
Well, since I have a son studying medicine, I think I designate Bellevue Medical Center.
I think that's wonderful. May I wish you the best of luck?
Thank you.
So friends, visit any or all of these Auto Light family car dealer showrooms and register while there's still time.
DeSoto, Hudson, Plymouth, Studebaker, Dodge, Willis, Snash, Packard, Kaiser, or Chrysler.
Remember, there are only a few days left to give your favorite church, school, or other recognized local or national charity the cash opportunity of a lifetime.
So sign up tomorrow, sure.
Next week, the story of a man who wanted to save his life, but he had to get into a fight to do it.
And the fight was with the giant of Thermopylae, our star, Mr. Frank Lovejoy.
That's next week on Suspense.
Suspense is transcribed and directed by Elliot Lewis, with music composed by Lucian Morwick and conducted by Lud Bluskin.
The Vertillion Method was written for Suspense by Morton Fine and David Friedkin.
Featured in tonight's cast were Herb Butterfield, John Zaner, Vic Taron, Jane Webb, and Edgar Barrier.
And remember, next week, Mr. Frank Lovejoy in The Giant of Thermopylae.
This is the CBS Radio Network.