Suspense. And the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, the master of mystery
and adventure, William N. Robeson.
We who manufacture thrills and chills for you, sometimes weary of the guns and knives
and blood and gore, we yearn to smile once in a while. We crave an occasional chuckle
instead of the groans which fill our working days. But murder is serious business, and
all too rarely do we find it a laughing matter.
The story you are about to hear is one of these rare and happy occasions. It concerns
two missing persons and the intertwined lives of two French chefs named Henry Stringbean
and Frank Pigsfoot, and how their friendship flourished in the kitchens of a New York restaurant
called the King's Eggplant. It marks also the welcome addition to Suspense's Company
of stars of the popular French actor Maurice Massac. Listen, listen then as Monsieur Massac
stars in One Chef, Well Done, which begins in exactly one minute.
How can we recognize devotion to freedom? One way is to be able to identify the Navy
Cross established by Congress in 1919. A cross made of bronze, it contains a design of an
old sailing ship, the Caravelle, with crossed anchors and the words United States Navy on
the reverse side. It is suspended from a blue ribbon with a narrow white stripe in the center.
This rare award is given to any person serving in any capacity with the naval service of
the United States, who distinguishes himself by extraordinary heroism in connection with
military operations against an armed enemy. Individuals who have received the Navy Cross
include sailors who distinguished themselves during America's involvement with Japanese
operations in China from 1937 to 1938, and men aboard the U.S. Gunboat Panai, which was
bombed and sunk in Chinese waters on December 12, 1937. The Navy Cross stands for extraordinary
accomplishment which a proud nation notes and acknowledges with gratitude. Who is next
for the Navy Cross? It can be any dedicated seaman who so conducts himself as to be worthy
of the great tradition of this honored symbol of freedom, the Navy Cross.
Now, one chef, well done, starring Maurice Marsac, a tale well calculated to keep you
in suspense. Many times it is asked of me, how is it that you, Henri-Eric Aubert, have
risen to the exalted position of chef de cuisine at such a tender age? And I, Henri-Eric Aubert,
shrug with modesty and reply, it is because I began my apprenticeship in Paris when I
was about 11. It is also because your America is the land of opportunity. It is also because
Monsieur Francois Pierre de Cochon is no longer in the kitchens here at the restaurant Les
Aubergines du Roi. You do not understand concerning Francois? Permit me then to begin at the commencement.
It was in the spring of 1901 that I applied for a position to Monsieur Smith, proprietor
of Les Aubergines du Roi. Me, I am a meat and potatoes man, Henri, meat and potatoes
fried in plenty of bacon grease. But I am running this restaurant for what they call
the 400, folks with more money than brains and they want French grub. So, I hire the
best French chefs I can get and then I leave them alone. Entendu Monsieur Smith. Now, we
will start you on sauces, but if you can cook like your recommendations say, you can move
right up to the top. The great escouffier himself once complimented my Rideauvaux or
Cote de Crovis. Okay, if your sweet bread satisfies escouffier, they ought to satisfy
Francois. Monsieur Francois, he is the chef de cuisine? Yeah, and you won't find a meaner
one in all the 45 states. And until I can find somebody half as good and twice as pleasant,
I got to keep them. I am pleasant. I wish to be friends with everyone. Okay, friend. Now,
you prove to the customers and to Francois that you are a first class saucier and I hope
by that time the cops will have saved me the trouble of firing him. The cops? The police,
the gendarmes. You see, Henri, Francois drinks. But surely it is no concern of the gendarmes
if one takes a little wine, de temps en temps. Of course it ain't. But me and the cops got
a strong hunch that Francois also murders. Sacre bleu. Yep, that's why we are looking
for a new sauce chef. Sacre sacre bleu. Don't you worry. The way I got it figured, he just
scares most people. The only ones he murders are his best friends. Idiot of a goat. I instructed
you to poach that salmon not to make a stew of it. Get out of this kitchen before I take
my sharpest knife to your miserable sweet galley. That's him, Henri. Oh, Francois. Don't
come screaming at me during the dinner preparation, Monsieur Smith. You staff your kitchen with
these mutton-headed fools who cannot slice a shallot. Your stupid New York gendarmes
harass me with questions about poor Lucien's death. And today my head throbs as though
it were a veal cutlet becoming a scallopini. Now, Francois, don't get excited. I just want
you to meet the new sauce chef. Monsieur Francois Petticachon, Monsieur Henri Haricot-Vert.
Bonjour, monsieur. What is bon about it? Can you cook? Henri's got recommendations for
mesquifère. Oh, ask you, espèce de chameau. Now then, Haricot-Vert, get into your working
clothes and prepare a bolognese, a bordelais, and a ruanais. And if by some happy accident
all three do not taste like raw flour paste, you and I shall be the best of friends. In
a moment, we continue with the second act of suspense. Another visit with Joe and Daphne
Forsyte. Hey, honey, I'm home. Daphne. Drop dead. Uh-oh, what's the matter, honey? Don't
you speak to me, you, you don Juan. Don Juan? Daphne, I'm no don Juan. No hables esponol.
Very funny. Ha, ha, ha. Well, it was no prize winner, but... Neither are you, you, you lethario.
I've often wondered, what's a lethario? I don't know, but that's what the wives on TV
always call their husbands. I guess it applies. Do you want me to go out and come in again?
As far as I'm concerned, you can go for a long walk, preferably on a short pier. Well,
oh, come on, Daphne, what's wrong? Your good friend Harry called and he spilled the beans.
Which beans? He said, quote, tell Joe he was right about those blondes, they're great, unquote.
Blondes? That's what he said. Well... He didn't say blondes, he said bonds, savings bonds.
Bonds? Savings bonds. What? Sure, I buy them on the payroll savings plan. And I told Harry
he ought to do it too. Savings bonds have a guaranteed interest that pays back four dollars
for every three, which is a pretty good investment. That's a pretty good story too. It's true,
so help me. That's why Harry's so happy. Savings bonds are great. Well, maybe you're right.
You wouldn't really fool around with blondes, would you? You're too faithful and sweet and
kind and... Fast talking. And now, starring Maurice Marsauk, act two of One Chef, well
done. A pinch of mignonette pepper, so. A pinch of chervil, one of tarragon, so. Hello,
what are you doing? Preparing a bordeleque. I need to concentrate. You must be the new
fellow from Paris. My name's Shirley. Bonjour, mademoiselle. I scrub the vegetables. Then
go scrub them. Why? Oh, Francois ain't around. I guess he's got such a hangover he ought
to lay down for a while. Gee, that stuff smells delicious when you whip it up like that. I
trust Monsieur Francois also will approve. You better trust he won't. If he thinks you
can cook, he'll pretend to like you. And if he pretends to like you, the same thing might
happen to you as happened to Lucien. Who is this Lucien? He was the last sauce chef. Old
Francois and him got to drinking together and one time they went out on a terrible spree
and poor Lucien never came back. Oh, quel dommage. And they never found his body, neither. Francois
must have sliced him into tiny bits and threw him off the Brooklyn Bridge. Now, please,
if you must weep, do not weep in my bordeleque. I have already salted it correctly. Francois!
Oh, the boss has been described as an actual... Hey, where's Francois? Ah, Francois is said
to be temporarily indisposed, Monsieur Smith. Shades of William McKinley, the August Belmont
JP Morgan party has just arrived. Well, I do not comprehend. The richest people in New
York and Francois was supposed to cook up a fancy fillet of beef goddard. This matter
sounds of importance. Filet de boeuf Godard. What'll I do, Henry? Remain calm. Tell Monsieur
August and JP Shades of McKinley all is well and trust Henri. I guess I'll have to. Great
Garfield's ghost. Filet de boeuf Godard. Oh, Maître Escoffier, watch over your humble
disciple now. Nothing like a few moments in Madison Square to relieve a murderous pain
in the head. Hey, you! What are you doing? Making the several sauces you requested, Monsieur
Francois. When did I... Who are you? Henri-Henri Corvair. Do you not remember? Your face is
vaguely familiar. What is this wine? An excellent sherry. Do not waste too much in the sauce.
What time is it? Ten minutes past the nine. Ah, yes. A miserable American royalty is to
dine at half past the six and I must prepare a filet de... Ten past the nine. Oh, my filet,
my filet. Oh, the filet was served, Monsieur Francois. Served à la Godard. I prepared the
garnishment and the sauce. You garnished my filet? Henry, look out his knife! Pig, cabage,
offspring of a tournip. Henry, Henry, you head home, run first time and back. Do not
interrupt, Monsieur Smith. I have a lamb to butcher. The bell-mounted Morgan said it was
the finest beef goddard they ever ate. They're coming back tomorrow and they left a hundred
dollar tip for the chef. Here you are, kiddo. The gratuity must be given to Monsieur Francois.
Why? He wasn't even here. But he, he returned at the moment you left the kitchen. I did?
Certainement. Okay then, Francois, it's your hundred bucks. Good thing you came back. This
kid might have got your job. Mon ami. We French must stand side by side in this strange country.
What you have done is what Lucien would have done. What you have said is what Lucien himself
would have said. Come, we shall toast the dear departed Lucien in his magnificent sheriff.
Francois, what happened to Lucien? I do not know. All I recall is that one night Lucien
and I went on a magnificent soirée from which poor Lucien never returned. You remember nothing
else? Only this. Somewhere in the dim, dark caverns of my memory, the two of us entered
a large, dark room with a row of white beds. Some sort of transient hotel. We fell asleep
and I think that when I woke, his bed and all the other beds were empty. And, I think
I left rapidly and silently through a side door. I think. Francois, my friend, could
you by any chance have murdered Lucien? Oh, mon dieu, non, non, non, non. At least I do
not think I murdered him. But one day, you shall help me to find out. Poor Francois.
If he did not think he murdered Lucien, then I, Henri-Eric Aubert, also refused to believe
it, in spite of our employers' views and those of the gendarmes, in spite of the views
of Shirley, the vegetable bather. You could be head chef here if you wanted to, Henry.
Mr. Smith keeps saying so. Francois and I constitute a two-headed head chef. It does
not matter what title we are called by. That's another thing. You're always hanging around
with old Francois instead of paying a little attention to me once in a while. And what
could you contribute to a discussion of classic cookery? Is cooking all you French guys think
about? When I think of other matters, do I not seek your company? Yeah. And you always
try to get me drunk, just like Lucien used to. I believe Lucien and I would have had a great
deal in common. That's what I keep telling you, Henry. If you don't quit being friends
with Francois, you and Lucien will be dead in common. And when you are, don't come to
me for sympathy. One who is too stupid to cook cannot understand one whose whole life
is cookery. But Francois and I, we understand each other parfaitement. And often, when the
diners have departed and the kitchen help had gone, we would remain at the restaurant
and create magnificent dishes. And now, mon ami, the question is, how shall we prepare this
large corn-fed ham? First, I have a question for you, Francois. I have found in the Spirit
Pantry a case of these strange bottles. The label is printed in American, and while I
now speak the language like a native, I do not yet read it so nifty. Let me see. Oh,
those kebabs bourbon whisky, one hundred proof, bottled in bond. Oh, yes, Henry, this
is an American cooking wine made from the fermented juice of the corn. Taste it, mon ami.
Voila. Your turn, Francois. Mon ami, I have an inspiration. We shall create a source for
the corn-fed ham from this corn-flavored wine. So, why do you weep? No. If it is bad, we shall
simply feed it to Monsieur Smith. Non, non, non, mon ami. I weep because, tout à coup,
I, too, have the inspiration. Now we shall at last discover the fate of poor Lucien. You
believe that he died from eating ham? Non, non, non, non, non, non. On the very evening,
Lucien and I embarked upon our last soiree. He, too, thought to create a corn-wine source
for a ham. And when we had tasted enough of this usqueba to determine its properties,
its properties led us on the grand exploration from which he did not return. Ah, you believe
that a bottle or two or three might lead us on a similar grand exploration? Oui. Even
now, incidents I could not recall begin to take shape in my memory. If only I can recall
the very incident of Lucien's departure, perhaps even the idiot gendarme will leave me in peace.
Oh, mon ami, we shall try to retrace every beautiful, fatal step, and you shall play
the part of Lucien. 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.
Soviet-dominated nations are held together only by political and military coercion. The
strength and fiber of NATO lies in the fundamental unity in the face of dangers which threaten.
Thanks to this solid fundamental unity, NATO nations can overcome difficulties and bring
into harmony their individual points of view. The United States of America is a part of
NATO. You should be aware of and alert to the objectives and programs of the North Atlantic
Treaty Organization. And now, starring Maurice Marsac, act three of One Chef, well done.
And thus, after the third bottle of old-whisker bourbon corn wine, the sauce was not completed,
for I deemly remember that at this point, Francois and I, we were somehow standing in
the corner of 14th Street and the Broadway, and seven horse cars already had gone by.
Now, the eighth approached.
It cannot be any horse car, Henri. The one on which Lucien and I embarked was driven
by an old chestnut mare named Mabel.
Well, we must have waved the same car.
This car to the Lancy Street, Maast Street, and Forton Fish Market.
Pardon, Monsieur, who is the noble horse who pulls your conveyance?
That's old Mabel.
Hey, what's the idea?
Allons-y, oh boy.
Come back, you horse, you evil scum.
Are you gents sure you can handle a load like you're taking on?
Hey, wasn't you in here a few weeks ago?
Mabel has brought us to the right place.
Sure, only it was with another guy, Lukey or something like that you called him.
The excellence of your memory is exceeded only by the charm of your establishment.
Now, Henri, we must seek the hotel from which Lucien never returned.
Don't tell me your boys is leaving already?
No offense, Monsieur.
No offense, my hairpiece. I want to do you a favor.
I'm kind of worried about you getting home.
So why don't you just write your names and addresses on these cardboard tags and tie them to your wrists?
And if you pass out somewhere, the cops will deliver you.
Merci, you are a true friend.
Eh, don't mention it. And what's yours, Gents?
Henri, do not inscribe your correct name.
No.
Right as I am writing, name unknown, address unknown.
As always.
But why?
Our true friend is a spy of the gendarme. But we have now outwitted him.
You are sure this is the street?
I think I am sure.
What's the matter?
Oh, it's nothing. I have simply run into a building.
Ah, then it is the hotel we seek. Lucien discovered it in the same way.
But where is the entrance? And the test for registration?
Ah, my fine pigeon, we shall save the centine they would charge.
I can grow my own
I can group to the side entrance, which as you shall see, opens directly into a large room of many beds.
There, I am sure, we will discover what happened to poor Lucien.
I remember, and yet I do not remember.
We seemed to be in a cavernous place of gloom, with sleeping figures upon narrow white beds.
It seemed that we found two beds empty and side by side.
When I lay down, the bed seemed cool and hard.
But I am tired, and soon I fall into the deep slumber.
Then I awaken, and I am unsure that I am truly awake.
Cold, grey light, the feeling that I am alone in the room.
No, there on the next bed, Francois slumbers, so I am awake.
No, two men come and lift the sleeping Francois to a cart with wheels.
This cannot be, so I am still asleep. Their voices are a part of my dream.
This one hasn't been claimed either?
No, aim unknown, address unknown.
That's life. Here today and gone tomorrow.
So I dream that they wheeled Francois off on the cart to a far end of the room.
I dream that in the wall a small door opens.
And as it opens, I dream that a cheery fire blazes beyond.
Then the door shuts, and I dream a strange sound.
And I dream that I am running, and when I awaken, I am outside a hotel.
I walk around to the front of the building.
Over the doorway are painted in American words the name of the establishment.
Pardon, monsieur.
Yeah?
Your language, I speak with perfection, but I do not read it so nifty.
What mean those words, s'il vous plait?
No, they don't mean s'il vous plait. Just says New York morgue, entrance to crematory.
Oh, merci bien.
And thus, because Francois is no longer here in the kitchens of the restaurant Aubergine du Roi,
I have been persuaded to accept the title of Chef de Cuisine.
Suspense.
In which Maurice Marsoc starred in William N. Robeson's production of One Chef Well Done by Francis von Hartesfeld.
Supporting Mr. Marsoc in One Chef Well Done were Sandra Gould, Joe DeSantis, Ben Wright, and Jack Moyholtz.
Listen. Listen again next week when we return with another tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Music.
Suspense has been brought to you through the worldwide facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.
Music.