Suspense. And the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, the master of mystery
and adventure, William N. Robeson.
The story with the surprise ending is one of the most difficult to write. Yet, the old
switcheroo, as we call it in the trade, had fascinated readers for a long, long time before
O. Henry virtually patented it. It's a difficult form because the switch must come logically
out of the characters and their behavior, but it must come suddenly, unexpectedly, and
at the very end of the story. You are about to hear a modern example, and we'll bet you
all the red flags in communist China you can't guess the end until 25 minutes from now. Listen,
listen then as Mr. Herbert Marshall stars in The Long Shot, which begins in exactly
one minute from now.
Another visit with Joe and Daphne Forsythe.
Joe, Joe, Joe, Joseph!
Yeah, yeah, I'm up, I'm up. Pour the coffee. I'll be right in.
Relax, it's three in the morning.
Huh?
I said relax, it's three in the morning.
I was relaxed. Daphne, why did you wake me up?
Well, I was just wondering what happened to our savings bonds.
You were what?
I had a dream. I dreamed you lost all of your money and all we had left were our savings
bonds.
I see.
So I just wanted to make sure they were all all right.
They're all right. They're with the other important papers.
You're sure?
Of course I'm sure.
Well, I just don't want anything to happen to them. Savings bonds are the most secure
form of investment. Why, the whole faith and credit of the United States stand behind those
bonds of ours.
Uh-huh.
So they're even better than dollars in your pocket because the government stands behind
them and protects them.
Uh-huh.
And they protect us too, Joe. Every bond is an investment in our country, in our security
and freedoms.
Joe?
Well, how about that? He feels so secure he went back to sleep. Good night, darling.
Now.
The Long Shot, starring Herbert Marshall. A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Very well then, Lieutenant. If you're willing to take it down, here is my statement. It
seems a year, but I guess it's only 10 days since I was sitting in the lobby of the Astor
Hotel in New York with 28 cents in my pocket. There had been a dreadful season at the track.
So there I was, stony. Somebody had discarded the afternoon paper and I picked it up. It
was folded to the classified section and my eyes fell upon a most intriguing ad in the
Hope Wanted column. Englishmen will pay $150 and expenses to fellow countrymen, preferably
a Londoner, in return for services as driver and traveling companion on automobile trip
to San Francisco. This was the answer to all my problems. And a quarter hour later, I presented
myself at the door of my unwitting benefactor's quarters.
Yes?
I've come about your advertisement.
Oh, yes. Step inside, please.
Thank you.
You have a chair.
Thank you.
Your English, I presume?
Yes, indeed.
A Londoner, I hope?
Born and bred.
Well, I must say that's a relief. I've been plagued with applicants all day and not a Londoner
in the lot. You see, the old town is sort of a fetish with me. A man can't really consider
himself civilized unless he's a Londoner.
Quite.
You say you were born there?
Oh, yes, in Vigo Street, just off St. James's Square, August 18, 1910. Know the town like
the inside of my hat.
Vigo Street? I'm not sure that I know it.
Well, it turns right off Sackville Street and runs some little way before it reaches
Regent Street.
Oh, yes, yes, yes. I place it now. Well, you seem to be the genuine article. Tell me, why
are you interested in going to San Francisco?
You know anything about horse racing, Mr....?
Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Hendrix Walker Hendrix.
Mine's Kelly Raymond.
Well, how do you do, Mr. Raymond? No, I can't say that I do particularly. I've been to Epsom
Downs on a few occasions.
I see. Well, I've become rather fond of the horses. I might even say financially dependent
on them. And with Bay Meadows opening shortly...
Bay Meadows?
There's a race course near San Francisco.
Oh, I see. Well, you have business. It takes you to San Francisco and so forth. But I just
couldn't face making the trip alone, or even worse, with an American. That's why I advertised.
What a stroke of luck to find you. Not only a fellow countryman, but a fellow Londoner.
Excuse me. Hello. Oh, yes. Yes, well, I'm dreadfully sorry, but I just hired a man.
I was sitting pretty. The only thing I was afraid of was death from sheer boredom, because
from the moment we started out, all Mr. Hendrix talked about was London.
Have you spent much time in Soho, Raymond?
I never lived there, if that's what you mean.
No, no, no, no, no, no. I mean the restaurants and so on. Do you know them?
You see now, there's the Moroccan... No, what was it? Oh, the Algerian Cafe in Dean Street,
isn't it?
Quite right, the Algerian in Dean Street.
A big French woman ran it. We used to call her Madame Couscous.
Quite. As a matter of fact, I saw her there only a short time ago.
Seems to be she died a few years back.
Oh, really?
Yeah, you probably met her daughter.
Yeah, no doubt, no doubt. There's a sign. Cleveland, 38 miles.
Spend the night there, I expect.
Good idea. Now, let's see where we're... Oh, yes, we were talking about Soho.
Yes, we were talking about Soho, and we continued to talk about it the rest of the way to Cleveland
for most of the night in the hotel room. I began to think the man doubted my authenticity
and was trying to trip me up. Next day, we covered Whitechapel, Fleet Street, Bloomsbury,
Mayfair. He still hadn't stuck me, but I was beginning to feel like a well-found Beirikers
guide by the time we reached Chicago. As soon as we checked into our hotel room, I tried
to get away from him for a while. Say, Mr. Hendricks, I wonder if I might have a small
advance on my salary.
Well, I suppose so.
It's still rather early, and I thought I might look over the Windy City.
Yes, of course, Raymond. Here, let me open my release. Now, this infernal lock is always
acting up. Ah, there we are. Twenty-A be enough.
Fine, thanks.
Hey, look here. I believe I'll join you. Stretch the legs a bit, eh?
There was a horse-choking wad of bills in that release, but I was so burned at him tagging
along I didn't give it a thought then. My favorite joint was just around the corner
from the hotel, a hangout for touts and bookies, but I didn't see anybody I knew at first.
We had a club sandwich, and at Mr. Hendricks' request, I was expounding scholastically on
the difference between Chicago and London bacon when...
Kelly!
Tommy!
Good to see you, Kelly.
I thought you were in Miami.
Leaving in a couple of days. How about coming along?
I can't. I'm on my way to San Francisco. Oh, this is Mr. Hendricks. Tommy DeWitt.
How are you?
How do you do?
Listen, Kelly, I gotta talk to you. I got a big deal cooking.
I'm afraid I...
You don't mind excusing us for a minute, do you, Mr. Hendricks?
No, no. Go on, please.
Look, Kelly, I'll get right to the point. We bought us some jockeys.
It's coming up next week at Hialeah. 500 will get you 10 grand on the parley.
But I've got to drive that stiff to San Francisco.
Oh. And what if you just, uh, walk down?
Yeah, I suppose I could. But where do I get 500?
Has he got any money?
No, I don't... Wait a minute. That valise.
Huh?
You're sure this can't lose?
I'm positive.
All right, listen. You go back to the booth and keep Hendricks busy for a few minutes.
Tell him I have to make a phone call or something.
I'll meet you at the I.C. station in half an hour.
I stepped out through the kitchen and in two minutes I was back in our room at the hotel.
There was the valise just as he'd left it.
And to make things even easier, the faulty catch wasn't locked.
There were $680 and $20 bills in the wallet and a sheet of legal-looking documents in
the portfolio next to it.
I glanced at them idly as I pocketed the money.
On top was a letter from a law firm in San Francisco.
It was dated two months ago and addressed to Hendricks in Bedford Park, London.
It said, since you are completely unloaned personally to either relatives or legal counsel
in the United States, it has been necessary to establish proof of your right to your uncle's
estate entirely by documentary evidence.
And we are happy to state that such proof is now thoroughly established.
We ask that you present yourself at your earliest convenience at our San Francisco law offices
so that final disposition of the estate may be accomplished.
Birth certificate, affidavits from friends, notarized statement from the Department of
Records, a sheaf of letters.
It was a long shot.
A long shot that would pay off at least $100,000.
Everything.
Every affidavit and statement was a guarantee of Walker Hendricks, the bearer.
And to tie it up tighter, one of the letters said pictures wouldn't be necessary, just
a passport.
And I knew a place in San Francisco that made passports to order.
A long shot.
But did you ever see odds like that?
In a moment, we continue with the second act of suspense.
Memo on medals, information about our military awards and decorations.
The highly honored Legion of Merit is a five-pointed white star of heraldic form bordered by purple-red
enamel.
In the center of this beautiful decoration is a constellation of 13 white stars on a
blue field breaking through a gold circle of clouds.
Backing the star is a green enamel laurel wreath interlaced with crossed war arrows
in gold pointing outward.
The ribbon is purple-red edged with white.
The Legion of Merit can be awarded to any personnel of the armed forces of the United
States and of the government of the Philippines and to personnel of the armed forces of friendly
nations who have distinguished themselves by exceptionally meritorious conduct in the
performance of outstanding services.
When awarded to the military of other countries, the Legion of Merit is divided into four ranks.
Chief Commander, Commander, Officer, and Legionnaire, depending upon the degree of the service we
honor.
Since its creation by active Congress in 1942, the Legion of Merit has become a highly honored
symbol of our nation's acknowledgement of the bravery and dedication of free men.
Now, starring Herbert Marshall, act two of The Long Shot.
Yes, it was a long shot.
Anyway, I put the papers and the money back in the valise and called Tommy DeWitt, told
him the high-alert deal was off, but there wasn't any money in the room.
And the next morning, Hendricks and I left Chicago westbound on Route 30 and old London
town rode with us.
You were saying you know the Georgian Raymond?
Yes, but it's not in London proper, it's in Southwark on the other side of the river.
Oh, I believe you're right at that.
Rare old in the George, with its posting yard.
I did a lot of thinking during those long, dull miles across the plains.
You know, my heart had looked like a cinch, but by the time we hit Cheyenne, I began to
waver a little.
And when we rode into Salt Lake City, I was almost ready to give up the whole idea.
I was too cut and dried, too easy for a long shot, almost like a trap someone set for me
with a hundred grand as the bait.
And once I went for it, there'd be no turning back.
It was a good gamble, but the stakes were too high and there was no way of telling what
the payoff would be without tossing everything on the line.
That's what I was thinking at about six o'clock last Wednesday night when we pulled up in front
of the Warsatch Hotel in Salt Lake.
By Jove, I'll be glad to wash up.
That prairie country is appalling.
Yeah, it's good to have some trees for a change.
Yeah, pretty town, Salt Lake.
You have an aunt here, you know.
Oh, how long since you've seen her?
Well, I've never seen her.
I don't intend to.
She's the sister of my mother's, Marguerite Studdard.
Thoroughly Americanized, I understand, and probably a frightful boy.
Probably.
That was just as if I'd asked for it.
A way of telling about that payoff ahead of time.
A laboratory test right there in Salt Lake City with nothing to lose if it didn't work
out.
I got away from Hendricks after dinner, found Marguerite Studdard's address in the phone
book and took a cab out to her house.
Yes?
Good evening.
Are you Mrs. Marguerite Studdard?
Yes.
I'm Walker Hendricks.
Walker?
I just can't believe it.
Come in, come in.
Please make yourself comfortable.
Thank you.
Well, you're a pleasant surprise, Walker.
I suppose I am, Aunt.
I may call you Aunt Marguerite, mayn't I?
Of course you may.
Well, I expected you to be a little more like, um...
Like who?
Perhaps I better not mention it.
Oh, please do.
I think we should discuss everything, don't you?
Of course I do.
You'll never know how much your Uncle Gerald regretted what he did.
You mean the will?
No, long before that.
Your mother never told you, I suppose?
Oh, no.
She never mentioned her family.
I don't suppose she would.
After all, she loved your father and your Uncle Gerald hated him.
And so Uncle Gerald forced her to leave home?
Yes.
I know Gerald would have been the last to admit it, but I've always felt the will was
his stubborn way of making it up to her.
Perhaps.
I'm sure of it.
But at least you will benefit, Walker, now that there's nothing any of us can do for
your poor mother.
If there was any doubt in my mind, it disappeared then and there.
The American branch of the family knew absolutely nothing of Cecily Hendricks from the time
she left home until her brother, Gerald, died, leaving her $100,000.
At that point, they made a pretty thorough search, for both she and her husband had died
in England, and their son, Walker, was the only heir.
Everything, everything I needed was back in the hotel in that valise.
It's 521 miles from Salt Lake to Reno, but I convinced Hendricks we could make it in
one jump.
I had a special reason.
We had to hit the desolate section of central Nevada about midnight.
When you get right down to it, killing a man is a pretty tough job, even when it's as
perfect as this was going to be.
For once I was thankful for London.
It gave us something to talk about, and there was so much in my mind that I might have given
myself away in silence.
So I prattled on like a phonograph.
Oh, yeah?
Good old Woppy.
Yes, yes, Woppy.
There's a lovely pub there called The Prospect at Whitby.
Oh, don't believe I know it.
No, I'm not surprised.
There's an amazing thing about London.
It seems that the greenest tourists know more about it than the Londoners themselves.
Well, I'd say you've done rather well.
Mainly because I've been on my own since I was 14.
Now, you take yourself, for example.
Ten to one, you've never been in Petticoat Lane.
A very marvelous place, regular oriental bazaar right in the heart of the city.
Booths and peddlers selling every kind of junk you could imagine.
At midnight, we were somewhere between William Mucker and Reno, passing through St. Barron
Hills.
I knew the time had come, and my hands began to shake so much I had to grab the wheel with
both of them.
I felt beneath a cushion when I put the wrench.
It was still there.
Finally, I held my breath and pulled over on the shoulder.
I say, what are you stopping for?
Look, over there, the moonlight on that cliff.
Oh, I say, I said he's lovely.
It was all over.
I never knew what hit him.
I turned off the lights and pulled the body out on the right-hand side.
We hadn't passed the car for an hour, so I wasn't worried much about being seen.
He was pretty heavy, but I managed to carry him over my shoulder.
About a quarter of a mile from the road, I found a small cave at one side of the ravine.
I shoved the body in and rolled a large rock over the opening.
It started a small landslide which completely covered the hole.
No one could possibly find it.
I had just about gotten back to the road when I saw something that stopped me dead in my
tracks.
There, behind my car, was another one with a seal on the door, the seal of the state
of Nevada.
In just a moment, we continue with the third act of suspense.
We have together ample capacity in freedom to defend freedom.
This is NATO, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.
The extensive and varied grouping of NATO military forces called for the establishment
of several unique supporting organizations.
Among them, the Military Agency for Standardization, London, the Advisory Group on Aeronautical
Research and Development, Paris, and the NATO Defense College, also in Paris.
All are vital subordinates in the complex of the NATO defense program.
The United States of America is a part of NATO.
You should be aware of and alert to the programs and objectives of the North Atlantic Treaty
Organization.
And now, starring Herbert Marshall, act three of The Long Shot.
Nobody was in the patrol car.
The officer must be wandering around looking for me.
I lifted the hood of my car and knocked the battery cable off one of the terminals.
Then I waited and waited while the coyotes jeered at me from the hills.
At last, he appeared from the other side of the highway.
Hi there.
What's the trouble?
Oh, I don't know, officer.
She just went dead on me.
I was having a look up the road when you arrived.
Say she went dead on you?
Yeah.
The lights went out.
Motor just died.
Been under the hood?
Wouldn't do much good, I'm afraid.
I'm pretty green at that sort of thing.
Let me have a look at it.
Would you please?
See, the battery cable jarred loose, mister.
You got a wrench?
Yeah, here.
Thank you.
Twist this.
There you are.
Try it now.
That looked pretty simple.
Yeah, it was.
Ah, there she goes.
Thanks ever so much.
That's okay.
Let's see, your name's Hendricks, huh?
Yes.
Checked your registration slip.
You're a long way from home.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
That's right.
Thanks a lot.
You're welcome, sir.
Good night.
Well, there it is, Lieutenant.
It was a long shot.
It was a long shot, it was a sure thing until I found you waiting for me in the attorney's
office.
Even then, I'd have gotten away with it if you hadn't told me that the body had been
found.
Well, aren't you going to say something?
Don't you still think I could have carried it off, Lieutenant?
Well, Raymond, we arrested you for the murder of Walker Hendricks.
But it appears we were wrong.
Huh?
What are you talking about?
It was a long shot, Raymond, and it was almost a sure thing.
Maybe that's why both of you gambled on it.
What do you mean both of us?
You and that guy you bumped off in Nevada.
That guy?
Well, that was Hendricks.
Oh, Hendricks was murdered all right, but you didn't do it.
What?
You see, he beat you to it, Raymond.
Who beat me?
Your traveling companion.
He wasn't Hendricks.
He was an out-of-work actor.
He wasn't even an Englishman.
That was why he was pumping you so much about London.
He was, what do actors call it, getting up in his part?
What are you talking about?
I thought you found Hendricks' body in Nevada.
We haven't found a body in Nevada yet.
But one thing's sure.
Hendricks was never in Nevada.
Poor guy never left New York.
The New York police turned up the real Hendricks in the East River the day after you left town,
chauffeuring for the guy who killed him.
Suspense.
In which Herbert Marshall starred in William and Robeson's production of The Long Shot
by Harold Swanton.
Supporting Mr. Marshall in The Long Shot were Florence Walcott, Ben Wright, Joe DeSantis,
and Norm Alden.
Listen.
Listen again next week when we return with another tale well calculated to keep you in
suspense.
Suspense has been brought to you through the world-wide
facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.
The United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service