Suspense. And the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, the master of mystery
and adventure, William N. Robson. There are certain cities in the world that are story
towns. San Francisco, New York, Paris, for example. They inspire writers whose stories
about them in turn embellish their tradition. With all due respect, Des Moines, Iowa has
yet to produce an Ambrose Beerce or Buffalo, New York, and O'Henry. And without Paris,
there certainly would never have been a Victor Hugo. But the greatest story town of them
all is London. The very mention of its name conjures up a host of images. Fog and the
clip-clop of a handsome cab in a midnight street, Scotland Yard, a lovely lady in Durance
Vile, a villain with an Oxonian accent, a hero in white tie and tails, and murder. Of
such elements is our story constructed. And one other. It concerns a man who, though murdered,
refuses to remain dead. Listen, listen then as Mr. and Mrs. James Mason star in The Dealings
of Mr. Markham, which begins in just a moment. The 59 Plymouth is at your Plymouth dealers
now. It's new, it's wonderful, and it's here. New styling to make your heart sing. Plymouth
for 59 has that fine car look. New Fury models at new lower prices. New swivel seats swing
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New Miramatic mirror, new automatic headlight dimmer, new sport deck, new everything. See
the completely new 59 Plymouth. Drive the completely new 59 Plymouth at your Plymouth
dealers now. And now, The Dealings of Mr. Markham, starring James and Pamela Mason.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. I make this deposition of my own free will
with the certain knowledge that Scotland Yard, without my assistance, could never have proven
me a murderer, since the fact of the matter is, I was the murder victim. You must know
that some years ago in Bond Street, not far from Piccadilly, was a quiet little shop which
was identified only by a small and very discreet sign which bore the words Charles Markham,
the owner in antiques. In the shadowy interior, beyond the mullion windows, was a confusion
of treasures, mostly genuine, and always the rustled ticking of a hundred clocks. Late
one summer evening, when the shutters were long closed on those windows, a handsome cab
turned into the foggy, gaslit street and came to a halt in front of the shop.
That's all, Cally. You needn't wait.
Very good, Miss. Good night.
Must be here. He must be. I won't go back to that place. I'll kill myself first.
Look here, old man. You needn't... Oh, I beg your pardon.
And I beg yours. I'm not the person you were expecting, am I?
No, madam. As a matter of fact, I was expecting a police officer.
A police officer?
A million-old friend who drops in now and then for some talk and a drink.
You are Mr. Markham?
Yes. My name is Markham. What can I do for you?
I want to come in. I want to buy a present for somebody.
Really, madam? It's nearly midnight. She'll leave tomorrow morning.
Oh, that'll be too late. This is a special occasion. It's a birthday present, you see.
A birthday present. I've got to deliver it at breakfast. And Sir George Lytel says this
is the only place in London to buy antique.
Sir George flatters me. One moment while I put some lights on.
No, please. That one little light will be enough.
But you won't be able to see very much.
Oh, that doesn't matter. I'll trust your judgment.
Just as you like. This way, madam.
What's that? That noise?
You mean the clocks, madam? There are more than a hundred clocks in this room.
Don't they get on your nerves? Taking away together like a nightmare?
No, I'm very fond of them. Might I interest you perhaps in a clock?
No, I hate them.
All the same, this grandfather clock might amuse you.
I didn't come here to be amused. Nevertheless, observe the signature.
Johannes Carver, Londini, Faket, Anno Domini, 1752.
You'd see better, madam, if you raised that veil.
I'll keep my veil down, thanks. Just as you please. But look at the clock.
I open the glass face like this. I push the hand forward like this and...
What was that voice? Only the clock, madam. Nothing more.
The clock spoke. Clever, isn't it? A device of old John Carver,
anticipating Mr. Edison's gramophone by more than a century.
But then you said you didn't like clocks. Not by the hundreds.
Well, then, it's a business. May I ask whether the present you're seeking
is for a lady or a gentleman? It's for a gentleman.
Is he some knowledge of antiques? No. Yes. I mean...
A creature, perhaps? Porcelain, bronzes, tapestry, weapons?
He might be very much interested in weapons, yes.
Then I imagine his name is Mr. Ronald Gilbert.
Will you tell me, Miss Ray, why you really came here tonight?
So you know who I am. Naturally. You're Miss Judith Ray.
Why did you come here? I wanted to see what sort of a man
you actually were. And you found out?
No. But I won't go back to prison. I won't.
That's entirely up to you. But since this is a business conference,
Miss Ray, and I imagine it is... Yes.
Then suppose we go into my office here at the back of the shop.
After you. Thank you.
You must excuse the dust covers I've put on the chairs here.
I'm leaving for a holiday tomorrow and the shop will be closed.
When I return next week, Miss Ray, I shall expect the amount requested.
In cash, of course. But I can't raise £2,000.
You ought to know that. Your fiancée could raise the money, I imagine.
Ron? Do you think I'd have Ron know where I've been and what I've been?
It's better than having his father learn it, surely?
Sit down, Miss Ray. I'd rather stand, thank you.
That's a very foolish gesture, but ladies will do it.
They think it gives them dignity and shows their disdain of the poor blackmailer.
You see, I make no bones about it. I am a blackmailer.
You seem rather proud of yourself. Why not?
I'm the one person in England, perhaps in the whole world,
who's made it a large-scale business. Congratulations.
What is all life but blackmail?
The little girl says, if you don't give me that, I'll scream.
The grown woman says, if you go on behaving like this, I'll leave you.
Your sex, Miss Ray, are blackmailers from the cradle.
I wonder, Charles Markham, if anybody has ever hurt you very much.
Hurt me? What do you mean?
When you talk like that, your face goes white under the eyes.
You pick up that letter opener from the desk...
Not a letter opener, please, Miss Ray. A Medici dagger.
16th-century work.
It isn't the money that really interests you, is it?
I don't understand.
You hate the world. You just want to torture people
as you think you've been tortured. Isn't that so?
This is a very sharp dagger, Miss Ray.
If I throw it down on the desk, it sticks. Like that.
Isn't it so, Charles Markham?
My motives, Miss Ray, are not in question.
I wonder.
Whereas your motives are.
Now, let me see.
Ten years ago, a certain girl called Letty Wilson,
your real name, I believe,
fell in love with a rather contemptible underworld character
named Arthur Aker.
Please.
No humiliation was too great for her.
She worked for him, lied for him, stole for him.
I was only 18. I didn't know what I was doing.
This girl, for a very shabby theft,
was sentenced to three years' hard labour in Holloway Prison.
Five months later, she escapes from prison and disappears.
And now, after all these years, she pops up in the West End
as Miss Judith Ray, fashionable billionaire.
Haven't I made up for it? Haven't I?
No.
For one mistake after ten years.
That's the way of the world, my dear. I didn't create it.
And I'm forgetting the best part of the comedy.
This paragon of virtue next falls in love with Mr Ronald Gilbert,
son of Major General Sir Edmund Gilbert.
Such a respectable family, too.
Oh, stop it, please.
Then shall we say £2,000?
Suppose I did raise the money.
I don't know how, but suppose I did raise it.
Well?
What guarantees would I have that you wouldn't ask for still more money?
I probably shall ask for more money, Miss Ray.
That's my privilege as a blackmailer.
Then am I never going to be free of you? Is that it?
Frankly, that's it.
Unless I kill you, of course.
What if I did kill you?
People have threatened that before, but they haven't meant it.
Maybe I mean it.
Well, we can easily test you out.
There's a sharp knife stuck in the desk in front of you.
I'm going to get up and deliberately turn my back on you.
Like this.
Be careful, Charles Malcolm.
As a student of human nature, I'm curious, how much will you risk to keep this secret?
Have you the courage to kill and risk hanging?
Yes, I think I have.
Oh, what was that?
Aren't you glad you held back at the last moment, Miss Ray?
I said, what was that?
That, my dear, was the front doorbell.
Probably my friend Inspector Ross from Widmore Street Police Station.
Come in, old man.
Make yourself comfortable.
I'll be with you in a moment.
You wanted me to try and kill you, didn't you?
No, I was merely curious.
And in any case, Miss Ray, it would have been useless to kill me.
Useless?
Why?
Because I shouldn't die.
Well, don't talk rot.
No, it's quite true.
A man in my position must take certain precautions.
If you killed me, I should be back to haunt you within half an hour.
And I don't happen to be joking.
Come in.
Here's actress Joan Bennett.
It's terrible to try to act with a dreadful cold.
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It positively removes dandruff as it definitely acts to brighten hair. Use it
regularly. And now, starring James and Pamela Mason,
act two of The Dealings of Mr. Markham.
Look here, Markham. Good Lord, Judith.
Mr. Ronald Gilbert. What a nice surprise. Ron, what are you doing here? He hasn't got
anything on you, has he? Speak up, Mr. Gilbert. Have I?
The fact is, Judith, I... Look at him, Miss Ray. See how he
changes color and twists his mustache and altogether resembles a boy caught at the
jam cupboard. The perfect picture of a gentleman being
a gentleman. Now, look here, Markham. I'm not very clever.
You can always make a fool of me when you start talking, so
let's stop talking, huh? I brought the money. What money?
My fee for keeping quiet about you. So you went to Ron, too.
You told him about it. Naturally, in my business, it's good business to sell
your wares in two markets, if you possibly can.
How much money? Never mind, Judith. I hope I could do this
without your knowing. How much money?
Three thousand. That's all I could raise. Has he told you who I am
and what I've been? Now, now, look here, Judith. Who the devil cares who you are
or what you've been? I happen to be in love with you and I...
Well, never mind. Let's get out of here. Ron, it's no good.
He'll only come back for more money. Well, I know that, but what else can we do?
Nothing, I'm afraid. May I have that envelope with the money, please?
Here you are. Take it. Thank you. As I explained to Miss Ray, I'm leaving
tomorrow for a holiday. I'm glad we could settle this affair
before my departure and, as you say, like gentlemen...
I don't suppose you can help being what you are, Markham, but
never again, as long as you live. Yes. Never even say that word, gentlemen.
Be careful, Ron. Look at his face. Tell me, Mr. Gilbert,
how much money is in this envelope? I told you £3,000.
Then take it back. I find we can't make a deal after all.
What do you mean? Just what I say. Here's your money. You will now oblige me,
both you and Miss Ray, by leaving my shop. But I don't understand. What are you going to do?
Tomorrow morning, perhaps even tonight, I'm going to get in touch with the police.
I shall tell them where they can find Letty Wilson.
Yes, Judith Ray. You can't do that, Markham.
Oh, yes, he can. You've hit him where it hurts.
£3,000 or 30 cannot buy you the right to insult me.
I'll show you to the door. You're not going to tell the police,
Markham. I promise you that. And how are you going to stop me?
With this? Ron, put that gun away.
So both of you, it appears, came here under false pretenses.
You said you wanted to pay me some money. The money's still there, but you've lost
your chance to get it. And, my dear Judith, said she wants to buy a present for you.
I showed her this grandfather clock here, this talking...
Don't go a step beyond that clock, Markham, I warn you.
Nonsense, old man. You wouldn't dare shoot.
Wouldn't I? No, and I'll call your bluff.
Ron. I know your whole silly tribe,
my friend. You wouldn't risk it. Your life, your family position, you wouldn't...
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candidate surges far ahead in another? What are the issues that concern
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this election so exciting. These are the questions our team of CBS newsmen will keep in mind Tuesday
night as we bring you the whole election story. Find out what's happening at the polls from CBS
newsman Robert Trout. Find out why it's happening from CBS News chief Washington correspondent,
Eric Severide. Follow the election predictions made by Univac, the famous electronic brain,
as they're reported by Douglas Edwards of CBS News Tuesday night on CBS radio.
Well, and now, starring James and Pamela Mason, act three of the dealings of Mr. Markham.
Oh, Ron, Ron, what have you done?
Steady, my dear, we'll find a way out of this.
Maybe he's not dead, Ron.
Oh, he's dead all right. He shot through the heart. The bullet went
came through him and smashed the face of the grandfather clock.
What are we going to do?
I don't know.
Wait a minute. There may be a way out.
What way?
He said he was going for a holiday. That means his absence won't be noticed.
The shop will be closed. Nobody will come here for days and certainly nobody will come here tonight.
What's that?
The police officer. I forgot the police officer.
What police officer?
A friend of Markham's inspectors somebody from Wigmore Street. He was expecting him.
Well, then we're finished.
Could you pick up the body and carry it?
Yes, I suppose I could. Why?
There must be a back way out of this shop, probably through the office.
Yes, yes, all right. I don't like to touch him.
Oh, hurry, Ron, hurry.
He's as heavy as a sack of meal and he seems to be looking straight at me.
I know. Did you see the expression in his eyes just before you?
No, no, I didn't.
He seemed to be looking behind us or beyond us. I don't know how to describe it.
He said something too that scared me. He said he couldn't die. He said...
Will you close the door quickly?
The back door. Oh, where? Oh, there it is.
Oh, locked. It's locked.
Isn't there a key?
No.
Perhaps in his pockets on a key ring.
Oh, there isn't time, Ron. The police, they'll break down the front door.
I've got it. The dust covers on the chairs.
What on earth are you talking about?
We used to play a game when we were children.
If somebody sits in a big chair, you fit the dust cover over him and nobody can tell he's sitting there.
Don't you see, Judith? That's how we can hide Markham's body.
It might work.
It's got to work. Take the cover off that big wing chair.
All right.
Put him into it.
I'll put the cover back again and pull it down around his feet.
Don't let it touch his chest. The blood will show through.
That's got it. You can't see anything now, can you?
Just in time.
Come in.
Good evening, Miss Ray. Good evening, Mr. Gilbert.
Charles Markham. You're Charles Markham.
Correct, Miss Ray. But why should that surprise you?
Why do you look as though you were seeing a ghost?
Because we are seeing a ghost. If you're Charles Markham, whose body is...
Judith, be careful. A body, Miss Ray? Did you say body?
Miss Ray is upset she doesn't know what she's talking about.
If you killed me, I should be back to haunt you within half an hour.
That's what you said.
No, I tell you, Miss Ray isn't herself. She...
I had bad news today. A relative of hers died and I...
I've been trying to console her.
Did you think you would console her to bring her to my shop?
Well, I... You must agree the situation's a little odd.
I come in here and find you two looking as guilty as a pair of murderers
in my private office in the middle of the night.
Well, there's nothing odd about it. I wanted to buy Judith something at midnight.
Yes, why not?
May I ask how you managed to get in?
Oh, the front door was open. We just...
If you wish to buy something, why not stay in the showroom?
Why come to my office?
Well, hang it all. You don't think we wanted to steal anything?
Well, I thought it occurred to me. You say there was nobody else here?
There's nobody here, Mr. Markham. Not a living soul.
Then you didn't by any chance meet my brother.
Your... your brother?
Yes, my brother Robert. You couldn't have mistaken him if you had seen him.
He looks so much like me that few people can tell us apart.
Oh, then that's it.
Well, Robert often deputizes for me.
He's learned to act like me, think like me, talk like me.
But he doesn't like the work much.
Of course, you know what my work really is.
It's this part of the game. Are you playing cat and mouse with us?
Robert is an idealist. He thinks, poor fellow,
that my profession is beneath contempt.
But he acts the part, acts it very well, because I pay him.
And I find it useful to have a double who'll run risks for me.
What have you done with the body?
We haven't done anything with him.
If you've killed Robert, my friend, you've committed a totally useless murder.
Wait, you don't see him here, do you?
No. But I see his handiwork.
Meaning what?
I've warned him many times about throwing a knife down on a polished desktop.
No scratches on the desk, or fresh scratches.
Of course, if you give me your word of honor that he's not here.
Of course he's not here.
Well, in that case, all we can do is sit down and make ourselves comfortable.
You sit over there, Mr. Gilbert, and you, Miss Ray,
how about that wing chair by the window?
I prefer to stand, thank you.
Then perhaps you don't mind if I sit in the wing chair.
It's a very comfortable one. My brother always says...
Don't sit there!
So that's it.
Yes, that's it.
It is rather a thick chair.
A thick chair. I press against the dust cover.
What's the use of going on with this? I killed him.
You admit that?
Yes, yes, I admit it.
But Judith had nothing to do with this. I swear she hadn't.
My telephone, you notice, is against the wall.
I shall have to turn my back to you when I ring.
Ring? Where?
Wigmore Street Police Station.
Give him a chance. Please give him a chance.
Hello, Operator? I want Regent 0586.
I won't let them take you, Rona. I won't.
No good, Judith. I killed a man.
I meant to kill him, and that's all there is to it.
Very sensible attitude, my friend.
If the lady has any idea of flying at me with that knife,
just notice what I've got here.
A.32 revolver, one chamber fired,
picked up off the floor in that other room.
Oh, hello. Wigmore Street Police Station.
Well, the last time, Mr. Markham, wouldn't you give him a chance?
Be quiet, Miss Ray.
May I speak to Inspector Ross, please?
Hello, Inspector? Charles Markham here.
I understood you were going to drop in and see me tonight.
Oh, I see. Well, naturally, business before pleasure.
As a matter of fact, I rang up to make sure
that you wouldn't come here tonight.
I've got a lot of work to do.
I'm leaving for Eastbourne early tomorrow morning.
Let's make it some other time, shall we?
No, Inspector. It's very quiet hereabouts.
Quiet as the grave, you might say.
Never known such a peaceful night.
Goodbye.
Why did you do that? Is this some more trickery?
Trickery? How can it be?
I don't know. That's what I'm asking you.
I should call you generous
when I let my poor brother's death go unavenged.
You're not doing this without a reason.
Naturally not.
Has it occurred to you, either of you,
that I might not want my business dealings revealed in court?
What are you driving at?
Has it also occurred to you that I might not want my business dealings revealed in court?
What are you driving at?
Has it also occurred to you that a man's double,
who looks exactly like him and shares all his secrets,
may become a danger rather than an asset?
You're glad he's dead.
Not glad, but definitely relieved.
Now, look here. You can't get away with this.
Get away with it, sir.
Aren't you forgetting that you are the murderer?
Well, then what are you going to do?
It's very simple.
We three, in an unholy partnership,
will dispose of Robert's body.
Or would you rather hang?
He's got us run. There's no other way.
How can we dispose of the body?
Well, it seems worse than killing him.
It's filthy cold gum.
Come, Mr. Gilbert.
There's no time for squeamishness.
You should be grateful to me for assisting you
in the disposal of the evidence of your crime.
Shall we get at it?
And so, before the night was over,
the body of my brother Charles was consigned to the ebbing tide of the Thames,
never to be seen again.
That's right, my brother Charles.
Robert Markham did not die that night.
I am Robert.
I killed Charles.
There were two shots that night.
Gilbert fired and missed.
And at the same moment, I fired from the door of the office and did not miss.
That was why my brother looked past those two.
He was looking into the barrel of my gun.
I killed him to stop forever the wholesale blackmail
that was poisoning the lives
and breaking the hearts of a hundred hopelessly frightened people.
I destroyed his records,
burned his correspondence,
and assumed his identity,
proud that I'd been of anonymous service to his many victims.
Had I been my brother's twin in spirit as well as in body,
that would have been the end of the matter.
But Charles and I differed in this respect.
He had no conscience.
I could not forget that young Ronald Gilbert would live his life
and go to his grave believing that he was a murderer.
I brooded upon this for a long, long time,
and at last have decided to make this confession,
releasing him from his burden
and assuming what is rightfully mine,
the sin of fatricide.
Further, deponent says not.
Suspense, in which James and Pamela Mason
starred in William and Robeson's production
of The Dealings of Mr. Markham,
written by John Dickson Carr.
In just a moment, the names of the supporting players
and a word about next week's story of suspense.
Then all the rest can filter back
It makes good sense when you smoke kinks
Of all the filter cigarettes can filter back
Supporting James and Pamela Mason in The Dealings of Mr. Markham
were Ben Wright and Dawes Butler.
Listen.
Listen again next week when we return with William Conrad
and Charles McGraw in Two for the Road,
another tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Get the news first on the CBS Radio Network.