Thus, then, and the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills,
the master of mystery and adventure, William N. Robeson.
There's a lot of truth in the old saw about the loss of a horseshoe nail
resulting in the loss of a kingdom.
The tiniest detail can often lead to quite extraordinary results,
particularly if the detail is observed by a clever con man
with sufficient larceny in his soul.
A man like the amazing Dr. Alcazar who parlayed a piece of string into a small fortune.
Listen. Listen, then, as Mr. Vincent Price stars in
The Green and Gold String, which begins exactly one minute from now.
Smoke can, smoke can, smoke can with the micronite filter. It is a mild, mild figure that's got the freshest, cleanest hair.
It is a mild, mild figure that's got the freshest, cleanest hair.
It is a mild can, figure that's smoke can, smoke can, smoke can with the micronite filter.
And now, Mr. Vincent Price in The Green and Gold String,
a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Hey, hey, step this way, ladies and gentlemen, learn what the future holds for you.
As Dr. Alcazar, a cowboy and extraordinary doctor of the world.
That dontid voice belongs to Abby, my good and devoted assistant,
who stands outside my studio here in Coney Island and drums up business.
Of course, I wrote his feel. And did it pay off one evening last fall?
Thank you kindly.
Good evening, sir. Are you Dr. Alcazar?
Alcazar, indeed I am, madam, at your service.
I'd like a reading, if you don't mind.
Age 35 to 40, cheaper, expensive suit, too tight and too short, not hers, a hand-me-down accent, British cockney.
Nervous. Something on her mind, possibly a housekeeper or a lady's name.
I showed it to the chair reserved for customers. It's under a mirror. Ah, they're handy mirrors.
Suki in here, I tipped with all these black curtains.
Black velvet, madam, to minimize all distractions.
Yet your crystal ball?
Yes, madam, the mysterious orb in which I see revealed the future as well as the past.
But in your case, I think it won't be needed. Your psychic projection is extremely strong.
Even now, I can clearly sense that...
That what?
That you're deeply troubled.
Well, in a way, I am all upset, Lloyd. But you see, sir, it's a private matter and...
Of course, of course. May I suggest that you relax as much as possible?
Any undue tension disturbs and obfuscates your aura.
And in order to obtain closer contact with your psyche, I'd like to hold some personal possession.
Oh, no, no, no, not your brooch. No personal jewelry.
Its intrinsically counteractive density tends to abdumbrate the necessary metaphysical radiation.
It does?
Oh, yes, yes. Perhaps something in your purse, hmm?
Our peace.
That's another gambit in the little game I play.
By leaning back and half-closing my eyes, I can watch the mirror and see the contents of an open purse.
In hers, I saw a roll of stamps, a shabby wallet, a half-eaten candy bar,
a postmarked envelope addressed to Miss Lily Lily something or other,
a folded, neatly folded sheet of tissue paper, violet-colored, wrapped around a length of
gift-wrapping cord, interwoven strands of green and gold, hairpins, a compound.
Will this do?
Your compact. Excellent, excellent. Now to sense the vibrations.
Your name. Your name. You are named for a flower. Yes, a lily.
Oh, well, I never.
You have a fondness for candy, a sweet tooth.
Oh, no. I did awful.
Your present life is bound up with a person of great wealth. I think a woman.
Oh, it's the truth. Every word.
You have a highly sensitive anema and are therefore a most sympathetic subject.
You are an excellent seamstress and...
And that, madam, concludes the general reading.
Oh, is that all?
Well, I could go deeper, much deeper, with a special delineation for an additional 50 cents.
Shall I continue?
All right. I guess you might as well.
Excellent, excellent. Now if you'll state your problem briefly.
Oh, do I have to? I should think you'd already know.
I see madam finds it necessary to test me further. Very well.
Well, well, now I seem to see paper, tissue paper. What a strange color.
Almost orchid. Orchid colored paper and something else.
Two colors interwoven, green and gold. Green and gold.
Have I mentioned something which frightens you?
Oh, yes.
Oh, well, now you should have sufficient proof of my powers.
And since my time is limited, I suggest you tell me the rest of the details.
Well, it's about my miss... my sister. My sister and her husband.
You see, sir, I've just found out that he's deceiving her like and I'm the only one that knows.
Ah, the eternal triangle.
Oh no, it's nothing like that.
Oh.
That's why I don't rightly know what to do.
The funny thing is that what he's doing to deceive her is making her happy.
Now, my problem is should I tell my sister or should I let well enough alone?
I see, I see, I see. You are entangled, madam, in the most unusual psychic web.
Now, one moment, one moment. There are widely differentiated comments here.
Two pairs lie before you. I see you picking one and then the other,
but it makes no difference which you follow. For whatever you do, the result will be the same.
And there now, I trust your mind has been set at rest, huh?
You mean that's all, sir?
Apparently all that fate intends you to know, at least for the present.
Well, if you say so.
That will be one dollar and a half.
I'd forgotten all about the mousy little woman until three days later.
Abby and I were having breakfast in the diner near the subway station.
I was scanning the morning paper while I half listened to Abby's cheerful and rather witless chatter.
This time last year we was already on Miami Beach, remember, boys?
We traveled in style, by plane yet.
This year it looks like we won't even scrape up enough scratch for a bus fare.
Sure be a laugh if we were stuck here all winter.
Oh, Lillie Morton.
I thought her last name began with an M-Pool. Winter.
Poor wench, that same night.
What you talking about?
Have the old friend despair not. We may winter in the sun after all.
How come?
Look at this picture. You recall that face?
Huh? No, why?
Three nights ago on Friday you ushered her into the studio.
Oh, one of the circus, huh? So what's she done to get in the paper?
She got herself murdered, poor soul, that same night.
Yeah?
It seems she worked as a maid up in Rockland County.
She took a late bus back there from New York and walking from the bus to the house where she worked,
where she encountered someone who strangled her.
Oh, it's tough. But how does that make us any dull?
Listen to this. Gloria Druse, former luminary of the New York stage,
now Mrs. Clinton de Vries, today expressed great sorrow over the brutal murder of her
personal maid Lillie Morton.
Declaring that she wanted to do everything possible to help bring the murderer to justice,
Ms. Druse said she was posting a reward of $5,000.
Five grand! And you know who done it?
No, no, but I have a hunch and I have an idea how, uh,
let me see now, I need proper clothes, cutaways, striped trousers.
For you, uh, a chauffeur's cap should suffice.
And we need a car, limousine.
A which?
Abby, how much money do you have?
Four.
Working capital to make money? You have to spend money.
I've got about 28 bucks and some chicken feet.
And I have less than five.
I have it. My two $50 gold pieces with them will have a total of-
You ain't gonna spend them.
You always said they was for good luck.
Oh, so I did, Abby. And here is the good luck I've been waiting for.
That afternoon, we arranged to rent a limousine, a 1938 Rolls, which I self-exactly
suited my persona. We also rented the necessary clothes, and the next day we set out to visit
Mrs. Clinton de Vries, née Gloria Druse.
What's the name of the place?
Lennards Cove. You'll see the sign.
I've got you.
You know, I never even heard of this name, Gloria Druse.
Never heard of her? The greatest Juliet of our century, the theater's fairest ornament
for more than a generation?
I noticed you had a looker-up.
Merely to refresh my recollection, after all. She's been in retirement for more than 10 years.
Oh, then she couldn't be any spring chicken.
A woman like Gloria Druse is ageless. But it's my guess she's on the dark side of 50.
Now, look, Abby, while I'm talking to her, I wish you'd somehow managed to get inside the house,
get acquainted with the servants.
Well, sure, it would be a cinch. What should I find out?
Anything and everything, but your main assignment is Mr. Clinton de Vries.
Dr. Alcazar, is Mrs. de Vries expecting you?
No, unfortunately, I was only...
Who is it, Edward?
A Dr. Alcazar, madam.
Alcazar? I don't believe I knew...
Madam, forgive me for taking this liberty, but he says it's about Miss Lily.
Lily? Oh, come into the library, doctor.
Thank you, thank you.
Ay, what a charming room, a perfect setting for you, Miss Druse.
I beg your pardon. Mrs. de Vries...
Oh, don't apologize. I like it when people remember.
Oh, now what is this about Lily? If you have any information, shouldn't you have gone to the police?
Oh, but I've come here seeking information from you. Perhaps you'll let me explain?
Oh, please do. Won't you sit down?
Thank you. Now then, you see, Mrs. de Vries, I'm a metaphysician, a sort of professor of the occult.
Oh. But understand, madam, I have never used my powers or knowledge for personal financial gain,
only in the interests of science.
What has all this to do with Lily?
Well, recently, about ten days ago, I was engaged in a simple experiment with my crystal ball,
in the course of which I encountered a very unusual interruption of the comic stream.
A total picture of a woman in distress, a woman in dire danger, seeking help,
at the time I made a full notation of the occurrence and then put the matter from my mind until yesterday.
Yes?
At the home of friends in Baltimore, I chanced to look at a New York newspaper.
Lily Morton's photograph caught my eye.
And you think it was Lily you saw in the crystal?
That is the question, Miss Deuce, which has brought me all these miles to see you.
Why, this is fascinating.
Please, if you will permit me, I'd like to describe the face I saw.
Yes, please, go ahead.
I saw a woman, part of her form, but dimly, but I saw her features very clearly,
a rather plain, almost homely face, welch, perhaps English, colorless hair, plainly dressed,
clothes set, gray eyes, no makeup, a mole here near the right ear, one gold cap tooth, upper left incisor.
Yes, yes, it is Lily.
You're quite sure?
Oh, yes, there can't be any doubt.
Well, Miss Deuce, you have set my mind at rest. I can't thank you enough.
Oh, you're not leaving? I mean, aren't you going to try to find out more?
You don't think I understand?
Well, Doctor, in these few minutes, you have convinced me completely.
I'm greatly honored.
And I was thinking, suppose you try to get in touch with Lily, wherever she is, or isn't that possible?
Well, of course, I have often received messages from the beyond, but...
Then you could find out who killed her.
Oh, but, Madam, don't you think the police...
The police, they haven't found a single clue. Oh, won't you please try?
Well, it's a challenge, though I must warn you, it's not likely to succeed.
Oh, there's nothing, nothing. The crystal is entirely blank. I'm wasting your time, dear lady.
Oh, please, don't give up yet.
Well, as you wish. Ah, here is something. It's clouding.
Now the mists are clearing. A woman's figure? No. No, it's gone. All I see is a serpent.
No? No, apparently it's a rope, but oddly colored. Interwoven strands of green and gold.
The colors of the rope are vivid against the background of violet. It's a peculiar shade of violet.
Oh!
Look, but the light's fading, the mists are closing in. Ah, sorry, the image is gone.
I'm truly sorry. I think we're being misled.
You mean because what you saw hadn't anything to do with Lily?
Exactly.
No, it wasn't about Lily. It was about me.
You?
Yes, just a minute.
Doctor, is this the same shade of violet?
Yes. Yes, this is what I saw. The same violet tissue paper and this interwoven green and gold string.
But why? It was such a powerful image. Has this any emotional meaning, Mr. DeBreeze?
Well, yes it has. It has to do with George.
So that's your husband's name?
Oh, no, no. George is an old admirer of mine. Of Gloria Dutson. Not Gloria DeBreeze.
I've never seen him. I don't know his real name. We just call him George.
And this paper and string is what he always wraps his presents in.
An old admirer who sends you presents is most romantic.
Isn't it? There's no note with his gift. No address, nothing.
Except in the very first one. That was nearly two years ago.
He enclosed an old theatre program from the green and the gold.
Ah, the green and the gold.
Oh, remember.
Yes, I saw you in that. I'll never forget it.
Well, that's how I know he's an admirer. You don't know what it means to an old actress, Doctor, to be remembered.
Ah, yes. Yes. What sort of gifts does he send?
Oh, books, perfume, our little knick-knack.
No candy?
Oh, yes. Every third or fourth package, heavenly, liquor, chocolate.
Ah, yes. I'm sure they're delicious.
But all this is keeping us from poor Lily. Won't you try again?
No, not just now. I'm afraid it would be useless now, Mrs. DeBreeze.
But if you like, I'll resume my efforts tonight, alone.
In a moment, we continue with Suspense.
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Why don't you drop in, too?
Remember, the Amos and Andy Music Hall comes to you every weekday evening, Monday through Friday, over most of these same CBS radio stations.
It's a treat for all the family.
And now we continue with The Green and Gold String, starring Mr. Vincent Price.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
It was nearly six when Avi and I left the Debris House and headed for a little restaurant in Nyack, where the chadrow used to be excellent.
It still is.
Now that you've satisfied the inner man, Avi, could I have a report?
Well, I found out a lot about this Debris guy from the servants, but I don't know if it helped. He's around 40 to 45.
Considerably younger than his wife.
Yeah, he's been married to her about five years.
They rub along okay, but no hard drugs, at least not with him.
But he likes polo ponies and sailboats, and she's got the dough.
Ah, very good, Avi. Now one or two questions.
Oh, did I? Ain't funny.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Now, as to set things way through whereabouts, he's got his boat moored somewhere out on Long Island Sound.
You see, she's got a beach house out there, and that's where he went morning of the day this lily was killed.
And he's still there?
Yeah, but he's due home tomorrow. Time for dinner.
Now, make with your questions.
Avi, I haven't a one. You've really covered the ground. I'm proud of you.
Well, then it's your turn, brother.
Seen as we spent nearly our last dime hoping to horn in on that five grand reward, I think you ought to fill me in.
With pleasure, Avi. First, I know who killed Lily.
Then let's spill it to the cops and collect.
Not so fast. I found out something else.
The same killer is planning to kill again, I think soon.
Lily was murdered only because of something she found out.
What? This man, this killer, has been sending presents to Mrs. De Vries.
Books, perfume, candy. Well, it's my guess that someday soon the candy will be the death of her.
And Lily Watts has found out who he is.
Indubitably.
And since the dame you're talking about is the De Vries dame, then I suppose you think...
Right. The guy is the De Vries guy.
Oh, it couldn't be. He was out on Long Island.
No, Avi, he was hiding, waiting for Lily Morton. Look, it was easy.
He started out in the morning ostensibly for Long Island, but instead he hid his car and lay low the whole day.
He knew the shortcut Lily always took from the bus stop through the back of the estate.
And that's where he killed her.
Then he drove off to the beach house, where he was supposed to have been all day.
And I suppose you got all that from your crystal ball.
No, no. From Lily Morton a few hours before she was killed.
Now where you're reaching, Doc?
I told you I knew one thing the police don't know.
Yeah, but with this clink you said yourself you got no proof, and Lily ain't doing no talking now.
Per, Avi, to the point. You're getting better and better.
So what do we do?
Take us to Park Bay, sit around getting corns, waiting for Mr. Clink George to send his flower popsicle full of strict time.
I don't think we'd have very long to wait.
I think he's about ready to strike, but since our funds will only see us through another day at the most...
You shut a mouthful there.
...it's up to us to smoke him out.
And I have an idea just how to do it.
Oh, good afternoon, Dr. Alcazar.
Forgive me for bothering you at this time, dear lady, just when your husband's returned.
Why, that's right. He has. But how did you know?
Well, I have, shall we say, certain sources of information.
You've found out something?
Yes, something startling, almost unbelievable, but I must check it further before...
Oh, but I have to know. Can't you tell me?
I'd rather not. Not on the telephone.
Oh, then you come to dinner, please.
Oh, no, no, no, that would be imposing.
Nonsense! I've told Clinton all about you.
Indeed?
I warn you, he's a terrible skeptic, but you can convince him. I know you can.
Sure for a cognac, Doctor?
Well, yes, yes, thank you, Mr. De Vries.
Oh, now, Doctor, do tell me what happened.
I told Clinton about your seeing Lily in the crystal, and about the paper and string.
Ah, that string, that green and gold string.
Curious, you must admit, Mr. De Vries.
Very curious.
Indeed, yes. If I sounded excited when I phoned, I was.
You see, Mr. De Vries, I've been at work on our problem, and suddenly I saw, or rather I sensed,
that the tissue paper and the green and gold string were not part of your psychic stream.
Whose, then?
Lily Morton.
Lily? But why? What could George mean to Lily?
I believe he killed her.
George?
Why, that is the most preposterous idea.
Are you sure?
To be frank, no, but I'm convinced that one more evocation of the psych-mantic wave will bring confirmation or the reverse.
Oh, Doctor, then couldn't you do it here tonight?
Well, I could try, unless Mr. De Vries suggests.
No, go ahead. Matter of fact, I'd like to sit in.
Excellent. I was hoping you would.
Is the room dark enough?
Quite, thank you.
What nonsense.
Clinton, don't fidget.
Ah, here is something.
It's clouding.
Yes. I can see the green and gold serpent on the violet background, and now I see a man.
Is it George?
I don't know. I can only see his back, his shoulders shake, and he is laughing, an evil, malevolent laugh.
George has done nothing evil. He's only...
Shh! The picture is changing.
Now I see this room. It is morning, and there is a package on the desk, wrapped in violet paper. A woman enters. It's you, Gloria.
You see the package, and you're delighted. Be careful, Gloria.
You think this is a gift sent with love, but it is sent only to lull you into a false sense of security.
Why? Why?
Because one day, someday, a package will come that will spell your death.
Clinton!
Shh! The image is changing. It's another room now, and Lily Morton is there.
She is staring in amazement at something she has found, a ball of green and gold string and a roll of violet tissue paper,
and finding them has shown her the identity of George.
She knew, and never told me.
Lily is troubled by her knowledge. She doesn't know what to do.
She takes a sheet of the paper, a little coil of the string, and she is gone.
And now the image of George again. Still, I cannot see his face, but he is staring after Lily.
He knows she has discovered it.
And he knows she might tell.
Perhaps. And now we are in a place of shadow.
George is lurking there, waiting. He hears Lily's footsteps. He tenses.
He leaps at her and seizes her by the throat.
Oh!
Now she is motionless, lifeless.
He bends down and finds her breast.
He takes something from it with his gloved hand.
The paper and the string.
He is stealing away. If only, only I could see his face.
Try. You must try.
Wait. At last. At last he is turning.
We are going to see his face.
That's enough. Stay where you are, both of you. Don't move.
Glendon, you killed Lily.
And you too, if you're not quiet.
Your plan with the candy might have worked, Mr. DeVries, but with a gun you don't have a chance.
Shut up.
Gloria, open the safe and take out the money you put there this morning.
Come on. Move.
Oh. All right.
Okay, DeVries. That'll do. Drop the gun.
What?
Ah!
I, uh, I'm sorry, lady, but it was him or me.
Him or all of it.
That was very terrifying, completely to the point.
You've really got a grasp for this kind of work.
Abby! Abby!
Yeah, boss?
Look, we just arrived in the mail.
Oh, oh. Oh, the Dame, Gloria Druse. Has she sent us the 5 G's?
Take a look.
Send?
10 G's?
Doc, what are we gonna do?
Well, what do you suggest?
Well, uh, I don't know. We could split it and quit. Each of us do what we want.
Abby, you'd let money break up our winning combination.
But not me, Doc.
Good. Then let's use our hard-gotten gains to set you and me up in business.
Business? What kind of business?
Alcazar Associates, private investigators.
You doing the legwork and me reading the crystal ball?
We're as pinched to make a million.
Suspense.
In which Vincent Price starred in The Green and Gold Spring,
adapted by Sylvia Richards from a story by Philip MacDonald
and produced and directed by William Enroldson.
Listen.
Listen again next week when we return with Miss Nancy Kelly in Trial by Jury,
another tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
Supporting Mr. Price in The Green and Gold Spring were Jeanette Nolan, Irene Tedrow,
Lou Krugman, Byron Cain, and Ben Wright.
Ever hear of the Vandals, that group of savages who bucketed around
over most of Europe destroying everything that was beautiful?
According to history, they lived and did their damage over 1,400 years ago.
But sometimes one wonders if the Vandals really died out.
Certainly there's a group roaming America, especially during the outdoor months,
that acts like the Vandals of old.
You've seen their work.
They're the ones to make sure our picnic spots and road sides
are littered with sandwich wrappings, pop bottles, and beer cans.
It's carelessness, not viciousness, that prompts their destructive behavior.
Could be that you yourself have been careless in that fashion once or twice.
Now, make a vow against it.
Do your part to help keep America beautiful.
You hear America's favorite shows on the CBS Radio Network.