And now, tonight's presentation of Radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Tonight we bring you a story of intrigue and ideological murder.
So now, starring Mr. Ben Wright, here is tonight's Suspense play, The Music Lovers.
Any word yet, Mallinson?
No.
Where's the car?
Around the corner.
Walsh is listening in.
What's the matter?
Oh, bit of the pip, you know.
Schoolboy's buggy.
Ackin' corp.
Oh, you've taken anything for it?
Everything.
Not too bad.
We've just got a standby from Sergeant Flint, sir.
Good.
Shall we move over, will you?
The code's standing out here.
1A, 1A, Gray Saloon, Armstrong Sidley.
Number plate LXB574.
Proceeding west on Arrow Road.
Just past Hazel Road intersection.
M, following.
Over.
Let me have it, will you?
Here you are, sir.
To all cars, this is car 1A.
Form roadblock at Scrubs Lane and Harrow Road.
Flint, how far away is he?
Over.
About half a mile, sir.
Right.
If he turns off, let us know.
Out.
All right, jump on, Mallinson.
Next corner, Walsh.
You know I don't like to stand on the running board, Hendon.
Make you forget the pit.
I'm going to sneeze.
Hats off!
Bless you.
Blast you!
Walsh.
Yes, sir.
Park behind that squad car, pulling up.
Yes, sir.
Hope he smashes into the lot of us.
Serve you right.
Serve him right, too.
Well, now all we have to do is wait.
Here he comes.
Hold on, you!
It's all right, Mallinson.
They've got him.
Have a look in the car, will you?
Right.
Let go!
Stand still.
That's better.
This the man you want, sir?
That's the one.
Now, you wish to make a statement?
Ask mine.
Where's Geoffrey Spencer?
I don't know what you're talking about.
Hendon!
Yes?
Would you come here for a second?
What's up?
In there.
Back seat.
It's Spencer.
Oh.
Dead?
I don't think so.
But from the looks of what they've done to him, he should be.
He was dying.
Slow, sad death.
There was no comfort in his leaving.
No face or voice of a loved one.
Only men in uniform.
Strange men who wanted to be kind but couldn't.
Geoffrey Spencer was a statistic, age 37, employed by Staines Aircraft Industries, senior
engineer, associate designer of experimental jet aircraft HX331, romanticized as Staines
Super Hawk.
Geoffrey Spencer, missing for six days, believed kidnapped by agents seeking classified information
on HX331.
A statistic lying in the back seat of a gray car.
A beaten, smashed body, eyes staring up, full of pain, full of tears.
Ambulance is on its way.
Is he conscious?
Yes.
Has he said anything?
He can't very well.
Oh.
Mr. Spencer, can you hear me?
Just blink your eyes twice if you can.
Good.
I will have you in the hospital very soon.
Do you know who the men were who did this?
Just blink your eyes once if you want to say no.
Never seen them before?
I see.
They tried to get information from you about the new jet aircraft?
Did you give it to them?
Good man.
Do you know how many there were?
Five?
Four?
Uh-huh.
Yes.
Were they English or foreign?
Mr. Spencer?
Mr. Spencer?
Close his eyes, will you?
Was he very brave or very stupid not to tell them?
I don't imagine he thought much about it at the time.
Excuse me, sir.
We've identified the driver, sir.
Aaron Gibson.
Lives across the road.
Oh, yes.
I know who he is.
Must have been coming home.
What the devil was he going to do with Spencer?
He doesn't say anything, huh?
No, sir.
Bad bargain this one.
All right.
Sergeant Flint here yet?
Yes, sir.
He's waiting with the prisoners.
Good.
Look here, Hendon.
There's a nice, quiet, empty shop over there.
Why not let me take Gibson behind it?
I'll find out who the others are.
Don't you think I'd like to do that myself?
Come on, we'll see what we can do.
Everything all right, sir?
No, Flint, it isn't.
Oh, Gibson.
The man in the back seat is dead.
He was beaten and tortured, and you're under arrest for murder.
I don't know nothing about that.
I didn't even know anybody was back there.
Really?
Well, before we take you down to the yard, we're going to find out one or two things
from you.
I'd better help you down.
Inspector Mallinson, where did you say that empty shop was?
Across the road.
Of course I was there.
Right.
Eddie, what's going on here?
Sergeant Flint.
Yes, sir.
Detective Walsh.
Yes, sir.
This is going to be absolutely against regulations.
You understand?
Yes, sir.
What are you going to do?
We're all going for a nice walk across the road.
Now, what are you taking me?
If I'm under arrest, I got me rights, I ain't done nothing.
What are you up to?
I won't...
All right.
All right, but you can't do this.
You don't dare put a finger on me.
I know the law.
I don't know nothing about that guy.
The car's too far down.
Somebody must have put him in there.
Now, what you going to do?
You can't hit me.
You're only trying to frighten me.
That's it.
A fat lot of good that'll do you.
Flint, Walsh, hold his arms.
Stand them against the wall.
Yes, sir.
You can't do this.
This is England.
I know about you, chaps.
You can't do this.
I'll report a lot of you.
You can't do this.
I'm really going to do it.
We'll see.
Look at me.
Now, loosen his tie and collar button, will you?
Yes, sir.
That's better.
Now, Mr. Gibson, I think we're ready.
No, not now.
I want you to have a picture in your mind of Geoffrey Spencer's face when you and your
friends were finished with you.
I never...
We'll start with the names of the other men.
There were four of them, right?
I don't know.
I mean, there were.
What was your part in it?
Just reaching for a cigarette, Mr. Gibson.
You're quite nervous tonight, aren't you?
Hmm.
Ever notice where the flame's the hottest, Mallinson?
Hmm?
Oh, yes, I suppose on the cigarette tips even hotter, though.
You're what?
You're...
Now, Mr. Gibson, I'm going to tell you something.
You took a chance, for whatever reason you had, to engage in work against a man who had
done you no harm and against this country.
Another man is dead and the country, as you know, is in danger.
As a policeman, I would be remiss in my duty were I not to at least venture an equal chance
to get information from you.
It's against the law.
It's against the law.
So is murder.
Now, the names of the other men?
Will you let me go?
Let me go!
Now, you men are all witness to the fact that the prisoner is attempting to escape.
If his arm is broken in the process, it's completely within the law.
All right.
All right.
I swear it.
I don't know who they are.
They paid me to hang about while they tried to get Spencer to talk, that's all.
I was to drive them away when they'd finished.
Ah, that's much better.
Now, who hired you for the job?
Chair of the aircraft factory.
Stains aircraft?
Yes, I was a sweeper.
Bloke asked me if I want to make a few quid.
You work there too?
I don't know.
I've never seen him before.
He'd come up to me as I was leaving.
It was outside the gate.
Well, why should he pick you?
I'll tell you, I don't know.
All right.
Where did they take Spencer?
Place in Bronzebury Road.
Number?
58.
Did you get that, Fenton?
Yes, sir.
Who owns the house?
I told you I don't know.
I never went inside.
I just hung about like I was told till they wanted me.
Now, can you describe the man who hired you?
I don't know.
Tall bloke, about your size, thin, had a scar on the back of his left hand.
He talked like a gent.
And where were you taking Spencer?
I was going to leave him by the railway goods yard.
I said he was dead anyhow.
You know, Gibson, in a way, I'm rather sorry you decided to talk.
It would have been a great pleasure to...
Oh, take him away, Walsh.
Get him down to the yard.
Right, sir.
You're to move on, Gibson.
Mr. Iowmightney's going to hear all about this.
Wait and see.
You two, you're going to hear.
Oh, we're going to be in for it all right when the commissioner gets wind of this.
No, not we.
Just me.
I wanted you to help.
You didn't do anything.
Would you have done if he hadn't talked?
I don't know.
I honestly don't know.
Well, as it is, I'm going to offer my resignation.
Oh, now, sir.
Oh, don't be an ass.
Third degree.
Ever hear of it?
Well, you didn't hurt him, sir?
Questioning under duress, the same thing.
Oh, well, let's see if I can get this cleaned up first.
Now, what was that address, Flint?
58 Bronzebury Road.
Well, he wouldn't be fool enough to hang a boat after this.
I know, but we can have a look.
We had already known a number of things about Harold Gibson, among them the fact that he
was employed by Staines Aircraft Works, the fact that he was a member of a subversive
group which, up to that time, had engaged in nothing more physical than the passing
out of pamphlets.
However, Special Branch had learned, after the kidnapping of Jeffrey Spencer, that this
group was immediately involved.
We'd put a close watch on Gibson, believing that he might lead us to the kidnappers.
What we didn't know when we arranged for his arrest was that he had picked up the body
of Spencer from the address on Bronzebury Road.
Somehow, he must have given our men the slip.
Inspector Mallinson, Sergeant Flint, and I drove out there.
We took two squad cars with us.
And I had an idea that we were going to find number 58 Bronzebury Road vacant.
But I was wrong.
Pretty swank looking.
Four cars, lots of lights, quite a party going on.
Nice party.
They don't fool about when they play murder.
I've got the other men posted behind and outside the French window, sir.
All right.
Ring it again, will you, Mallinson?
Oh, yes?
Scotland Yard, Chief Inspector Hendon.
Yes?
May we come in, please?
I don't understand.
Was there something the matter?
A great deal, sir.
But I'm having a little music.
My friends.
I think you've made a mistake.
Oh, this is 58 Bronzebury Road.
Yes.
Who is it, dear?
The police, Jenny.
I can't imagine.
Don't leave the door open, dear.
There's a draft.
Won't you come in, please?
Thank you.
Talk to them in the study, Leslie, and do hurry, dear.
Oscar's promised to play Beethoven next.
Excuse me.
This way, please.
It's really very awkward, you know.
I haven't the slightest idea why you...
Now, what's it all about?
Do you mind giving me your name, sir?
Leslie Addison.
We understand that a man named Spencer has been held in this house for the past five
or six days.
What?
What the devil do you mean, sir?
Exactly what I say.
Held here?
By force?
Yes.
You must be mad.
It's a practical joke.
Not very funny.
No, it wasn't very funny for Mr. Spencer, either.
He was murdered.
Beaten to death.
Good Lord.
But why do you think that I...
I don't think anything yet, Mr. Addison.
However, I should like permission to search your house, please.
Blast it.
All this is terribly embarrassing.
I'm sorry.
What are my guests going to think?
I haven't the slightest idea, sir.
Well, I suppose it's your duty.
Do you mind waiting a moment?
I'll call my wife.
She'll take you upstairs.
And for heaven's sake, don't wake the children.
Sounds as if our friend Gibson was lying to save his skin.
I think we've made a bloomer, old boy.
Do you?
I don't.
Oh.
Gibson said a man approached him outside the aircraft works, remember?
Tall, thin man, about my height.
Oh, yes.
Did you notice the back of Addison's left hand?
No.
No, I didn't.
I did.
Nasty scar on it.
Man who hired Gibson had one, too.
Mr. Leslie Addison.
You are listening to The Music Lovers.
Tonight's presentation on radio is outstanding.
Theatre of thrills, suspense.
With uncanny astuteness and with unmatchable speed, the FBI in Peace and War breaks open
a vicious multi-state racket in the shipment of perishable foods by playing on the greed
of the wife of one of the racketeers involved in the tense story you'll hear over most of
these same stations tomorrow night.
If you like your drama packed with action, you'll really get a charge out of the troublemaker,
tomorrow night's thriller on the FBI in Peace and War.
And now we bring back to our Hollywood soundstage, Mr. Ben Wright, starring in tonight's production,
The Music Lovers, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Fifty-eight Bronzebury Road was a pleasant house, quite large, with all the evidences
of comfort and children, which would deny that such an incredible and foul murder had
been committed within its walls.
I left Flint and Inspector Mallinson to search the downstairs floor and with Mrs. Addison
went up the staircase.
The whole thing seemed quite impossible, this rather tall and lovely gray haired woman,
the music in the drawing room floating after us.
But I kept thinking of a scar on a man's hand.
I suppose you want to look into all the rooms, Inspector?
Oh, please.
My husband tells me that you think a man was murdered here.
Quite right, madam.
This is my son's bedroom.
I'll put on the light.
But please make as little noise as you can.
He's asleep.
Only nine, you know.
Of course.
Would you mind telling me what you expect to find, Inspector?
Where a murder has been committed, Mrs. Addison, we look for anything that may help us in a
solution.
Oh.
My daughter's room.
She's 13.
A likely age for a murderess, don't you think?
Mm-hmm.
Uh, that door.
My room and my husband's.
You'll find no skeleton in that cupboard, Inspector.
Now, don't you feel rather silly about this, Inspector?
If you've made a mistake, we shan't laugh at you.
We shan't report it either.
That's very kind of you, Mrs. Addison.
It's utter nonsense.
You don't think for one moment if Leslie had done this awful thing that we should have
allowed the children to be here, do you?
The very fact that he might have done it at all seems to make the qualifying element rather
academic.
Hand on.
Yes.
Something down here.
Right.
I hope you don't mind if I return to my guests.
Not at all, madam.
We may have to join you in a little while.
It would be extremely impertinent of you.
Uh, police, crime, arrest.
They're all impertinent, Mrs. Addison.
I find your manner unspeakably rude.
Both my husband and I have tried to help because we thought this was an important police matter.
We shall report it to the commissioner in the morning.
As soon as you have finished your ridiculous search, I must ask you to leave the house.
You know, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that lady turns out to be the leader of this
mob.
Hmm.
Pretty cool.
What have you found?
Oh, down this way.
We were quite convinced by now that this house harbored the core of a fanatic group whose
seeming harmlessness made their operations all the more dangerous.
Mallinson led me to a room at the far end of the house, a room which was soundproof,
that we knew that when we closed the door, the sound of the music was completely obliterated.
Hmm.
Looks quite inoffensive, doesn't it?
Desk, a few chairs, books.
Yes, it does.
What did you find?
Well, they were pretty careful to get rid of all traces of Spencer's residence in here,
but they missed something.
Look at this, on the carpet.
Hmm.
It looks like impressions of a cot or a couch.
That's what I think.
The kids don't even know he's in here.
They can't hear a thing outside.
What a charming couple.
Oh, lovely parents too, I'll bet.
Kiss the children good night and then come down and tear out a fingernail or two.
You know, the awful thing is that they think that what they're doing is right, and they
pass the poison on to a nine-year-old boy and a 13-year-old girl.
Hello.
Hey, do you see this?
What?
Under the desk.
They should have watched him more carefully.
It looks like a stain, a copy or a tee or something.
Yes, it is.
Convenience stain.
Spells G-S. See?
He left his calling card for us.
Geoffrey Spencer.
That does it.
Right.
This is going to be a nice thing for the kids upstairs, mother and father arrested for murder
and treason.
Yes, well, maybe it's better for them now than later.
What the devil are we going to do with them?
Well, we'll take them along and then investigate relatives.
If we find somebody with a healthy mind, perhaps they'll take them in.
Come on, let's get it over with.
She left the soundproof room and I shut the door on a modern scene of Inquisition.
There were eight people in the drawing room, including the Addison's.
It was an extraordinary tableau.
Music, warm winter fire, brandy glassy, friendliness of an upper middle-class home, and the people,
the only dissonant note.
They watched us come in, wary, perhaps a little frightened.
And as I looked at the faces, I wondered how many of them shared the guilt.
Are you satisfied now, Inspector?
Yes, thank you.
I'll see you to the door.
Mrs. Addison, will you please wake up your children and get them dressed?
I'll wait.
I think this has gone far enough.
Leslie, ring up Scott and Yard.
There's no point to it, you know.
Now if you have any feelings at all for your children, you'll make it as easy as you can
for them.
How dare you invade the privacy of my home, come out with this frightful accusation.
We have proof that Geoffrey Spencer was held prisoner in this house, and that you vainly
attempted to extort government information from him.
He died from the injuries you inflicted.
All right, now everyone in this room is under arrest.
If you're not involved, you'll not be charged.
The fascist British police.
I knew we'd live to see it.
Did you, Mrs. Addison?
That's odd, because I hoped that I would never live to see what I'd seen here tonight.
Paid spies, living your lie in comfort with everything you condemn, are worse than the
people who hire you.
Someday we'll exterminate the lot, and when we do, perhaps a kid like yours upstairs will
have a chance.
You ought to pass out tracts on a street corner, Inspector.
Guard and country.
Quite worthwhile reading matter, I think, sir.
Flint, ring the yard and ask them to send a van here, would you?
Yes, sir.
Suspense.
In which Mr. Ben Wright starred on tonight's presentation of The Music Lovers.
Next week, suspense will be heard at a new time.
Be sure to check your local newspaper, and join us when we again bring you another presentation
of Radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.
Suspense is produced and directed in Hollywood by Anthony Ellis, who also wrote tonight's
story of Suspense.
The music was composed by Rene Garagank and conducted by Leith Stevens.
Featured in the cast were Richard Peele, Bill Shepherd, Irene Tedrow, Raymond Lawrence,
Stan Jones, and Hans Conrad.
One of the best ways anybody can celebrate the independence of the United States this
Fourth of July is to resolve and fulfill the resolution to be careful in handling matches,
cigarettes, and campfires any time you're in or around a wooded area.
Our forest land provides us with many of the comforts of our lives.
Trees help prevent soil erosion.
They provide shelter for animal life.
They help maintain watersheds.
And if we were to count up the number of wooden objects that each of us uses during the course
of a single day, the number would be staggering.
If you love America, help protect one of our greatest natural resources.
Help prevent forest fires.
Stay tuned now for five minutes of CBS News to be followed on most of these same stations
by My Son Jeep.
America listens most to the CBS Radio Network.
Thanks very much.