Radio 59 WROW, first on the dial in Albany, Connexity and Troy.
WROW temperature 29 degrees, radio 59 time at 530.
And now, another tale well calculated to keep you in...
...the best.
In a moment, Moonlight Sail by William N. Rogeton.
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The ancient Romans called the Mediterranean Mare Nostrum, RC.
For the past several years, I've made it my scene, up to the point.
At least there isn't a port between Gibraltar and the Suez Canal I haven't been in and out of...
without the knowledge of a harper nut.
I was once a gob in the U.S. Navy, and the crafty skipper was once a P.T. boat in the U.S. Navy.
Now, we can both be had, for a price.
If the price is right, that's Marius, my first mate and crew.
I signed him on one night in a dive in Marseille after I'd come between him and a crazy Moroccan...
who wanted to give him a facelift with the broken end of a wine bottle.
Marius may have a rather carefree code of ethics, but I know I can count on his loyalty...
so long as I pay him regularly.
There are the bells up on the Sucay, the old section of canal.
The sun is dipping toward the mountains of the Esterel, and another day is drawing to a close...
on the glamorous and expensive French Riviera, where the pickings have been precariously leaned...
on the cruiser mockingbird and its men.
Welcome, sir.
Ah, but who knows? Maybe this is our pigeon.
May I come aboard?
Sure.
What can I do for you?
It is said that your boat is full of air.
That's right.
And are you free for this season?
Yes, yes I am.
Good, then I should engage you.
For what?
Oh, just a boat ride, a moonlight sail.
Where?
Just out and back.
Why?
Monsieur, am I engaging you, or are you engaging me?
I'd like to know what I'm getting into, that's all.
What is merely, as I say, monsieur, a moonlight sail.
A young lady whose capitulation is a gift of art.
Oh, I see.
Well, I'm not sure the mockingbird is very well rigged for your purpose.
She looks adequate.
Okay, what time?
Say eight o'clock. You know the Villa Mouette on Quatantib?
The big place out by Eden Rock that rich American dame leads for the summer?
Si, sir.
I'll be there.
One thing more, monsieur.
Yes?
How much?
How long is it going to take you?
Who knows? Two hours, three hours.
One cannot put a time limit on these matters.
Yeah, I know.
Say ten thousand francs for the evening.
Agreed, monsieur. At eight o'clock, then?
At eight o'clock.
Steve, Steve, I do not like you.
But my friend, a buck is a buck, or as we say in France, four hundred francs is four hundred francs.
Make fast that bowline, Marius.
Aye, aye, little Captain.
Well, monsieur the Captain, you're right on time.
Part of our service, monsieur.
Hey, you never told me your name.
Oh, forgive me. It is Foyer, Jacques Foyer, and this is what Maudette has done.
Glad to have you aboard, Mr. Dell.
Thank you, sir.
Any special place you wanted to go, monsieur Foyer?
A gift. It's straight south.
South?
Yes. To Africa.
I was beginning to dislike this puny little Frenchman with his shifty eyes, but I didn't give him any argument.
He was paying for the evening, and if he wanted a ride toward Africa, I'd head south for a little while.
The girl sat huddled on one side of the foredeck, her back turned to the Frenchman, and he leaned against the rail, watching.
Tense, like a black calf ready to pound.
Then, for a moment, he averted his gaze as he turned into the wind to light a cigarette.
Adele leaped to her feet, ran astern, and chimed into the wheelhouse.
Captain, where are you taking me? Where's Chuck? Is he all right?
Chuck? Who's Chuck?
My dear, say, is he badly hurt?
I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about, lady.
You must not think yourself good, whoopsie.
Well, I've got to know, and you won't tell me anything.
You can know everything in good time, and anyway, lady, Captain, know nothing.
Now, now, come along with me.
But this is...
I said come with me, without me ring out as it is.
With a yank that nearly pulled her arm from its socket, he hauled Adele out of the wheelhouse and backed forward.
Marius looked at me and shrugged.
This fellow of yours, he's been a bad allure.
Do you know what I think, Steve?
Not until you tell me.
This fellow is not in love with this girl.
No. Yes.
Well, what are you going to do?
Yes, but who is this Chuck who is so badly hurt?
And what is this destination this fellow said we were approaching?
Who knows? It's his boat ride. He paid for it.
Yes, but Steve, I'd like to...
Help! Stop him!
What the...
See, look, he's pushing her over.
Help!
I made it to the fore deck just in time to grab the struggling girl before she went over the side.
She was too shaken to speak, but the Frenchman wasn't tongue-tied.
Oh, thank you, Captain. Thank you.
She was trying to throw herself overboard.
I struggled to prevent her, but she was too strong for me.
If it had not been for you...
David, I saw how it happened.
Oh.
Get out to the wheelhouse.
I want you where I can keep my eye on you.
Both of you.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Both of you.
Thank you, sir.
He's trying to push me overboard.
I know.
Marius?
We look, Captain.
Swing her around. We're going in.
This street looks, Captain.
All ahead, Frank.
The sooner I drop this cargo, the happier I'll be.
Nobody said anything for the next few minutes.
The girl was too shaken to talk, and the Franksman was figuring his next move.
Marius held the wheel, driving the mockingbird across the moon-drenched water at top speed.
And I stood by to prevent further mayhem.
Captain, I feel I owe you an explanation.
You don't owe me anything but 10,000 Franks for the evening's outing.
Oh, that's a lot.
Here you are.
Thank you.
And never with this, I feel I must explain.
You see, my wife...
Your wife?
What kind of a story is that?
Now I tell my dear...
And I am not your dear.
Captain, I hardly know this man.
He's a friend of Mrs. Dawson, my fiancee's mother.
Mrs. Dawson received word that she's been with Chuck at the Hearst Skin Diving over on St. Margaret Island.
He was asking for me.
Well, this man was a guest for dinner.
He offered to get a boat and take me to Chuck, but...
But he tried to drown me. He tried to push me over for it.
You saw it yourself, Captain.
Now look, I don't want to get mixed up in this.
You've had your ride, and now the party's over.
I'll take the wheel, Marius.
We, Captain.
Stand by to make fast the bow, Pender.
We, Captain.
Bow, Pender. Fast, Captain.
Very well. You first.
Miss your F.Y.A.
I was beginning to worry.
Who's that?
Mrs. Dawson, my fiancee's mother.
Did everything go off?
Adieu.
What are you doing here?
Didn't you expect to see me come back?
Well, yes. I mean, no.
I thought you'd be with Chuck.
We never went near the island.
Your friend, Mr. F.Y.A., tried to drown me.
My God, Dawson.
Oh, I'm sorry. You must be mistaken, my dear.
Well, anyway, I have good news.
They've phoned me from the island.
Chuck is perfectly all right, and they're bringing him home.
Oh, thank God. When will he get here?
Well, later, and maybe not until morning.
So come along, my dear. You look terribly tired.
I am.
And then you go straight away to bed.
I'll call you the moment Chuck gets home.
You see, Captain, it is necessary to humor her fantasies.
Otherwise, she becomes quite violent.
Yeah.
Cast off, Marius. Let's get out of this joint.
We headed back to Cannes, taking a bearing on the white frosted walls of the Palm Beach Casino.
But I couldn't get that girl out of my mind.
She didn't sound crazy. She didn't act crazy.
And there was no doubt about it, the Frenchman had been pushing her over the side.
And the woman, Mrs. Dawson, whoever she was,
she not only surprised but furious to see the girl.
I know it was none of my business, but that's the way I am.
Back to Cap Don Quix.
We crept into a quiet cove a quarter mile east of the villa,
and I left Marius at anchor watch and made my way back to the house along the silent moon-baffled road.
It was a big villa, surrounded by formal gardens,
a rambling Mediterranean house dominated by a round watchtower which looked out to sea.
There were no lights on the landward side, so I made my way through the shadows toward the water
and soon heard the low buzz of voices.
There they were. Mrs. Dawson and Jacques standing on the terrace which faced the sea.
There I was, not six feet away from them, hidden behind an acacia bush.
All that you say is true, Madame.
Well, then perhaps you can explain your failure.
All would have gone well had it not been for that American boot captain.
Excuse me, excuse me. What could I do? He heard her scream.
You shouldn't have permitted her to scream.
Madame Dawson, have you ever killed anyone?
Of course not.
Then you have no position to criticize me.
That girl must not marry my son.
I understand that.
Tonight. You said you'd do it tonight.
I tried, Madame.
But there is still time.
Perhaps over in Monte Carlo at the casino.
The way that boy loves roulette, he won't be home until three or four o'clock in the morning.
You still have time.
But here in the villa, this is a different matter than a drowning at sea.
You're a most uninventive assassin, Monsieur.
Madame?
Look, her bedroom in the tower.
You see that balcony up there?
Here?
That's her room. The only one in the tower that's occupied.
And look beneath the balcony.
A sheer drop of nearly a hundred feet to the rock below.
In the morning her body will be found on the rock.
An unforced exit.
I see, Madame.
And may I say one thing?
Yes, of course.
You should be in my line of work.
You would do well.
I sneaked away on this high notice, confident, and returned silently to the road.
As I ran back to the Martling herd, I worked out a rough plan for the rescue of the fair maiden from her dungeon tower.
The light in the tower room was still on.
Marius used the Martling herd toward the base of the tower until its prowl crunched into the sand between a couple of rocks.
You're going to claim that, Steve?
It doesn't look too bad, Marius.
Up that bank of the terrace and up those vines is there strong enough and onto the roof.
After all, that tower was never designed to repel invaders.
It was built to look old and quaint and...
You see those stones sticking out of the stucco every now and again?
Yes.
They look close enough to be useful as a ladder.
All right, give me the coil of rope.
There you are.
You know what you have to do down here.
I know.
Oh, the light just went out.
I've got to get moving.
Go ahead, Steve.
Yeah, thanks.
The first part of the climb was a cinch.
The vines were old and sturdy, but the whimsical architect who embedded those picturesque stones in the tower had never intended them to serve as a ladder.
A couple of times I was sure that they would find my body along with Adele's on the rocks in the morning.
But I finally made the balcony, scratched, bleeding, and scared.
But not half as scared as Adele.
Who's there? Who is it?
Steve.
What? What are you doing here?
Don't talk. Just listen. We haven't got much time.
Listen to me. Chuck is all right.
Oh, thank God.
He isn't hurt. He's at the casino at Monte Carlo right now.
You were right about the Frenchman. He tried to drown you. In just a minute, he'll try to push you off the balcony.
Mama doesn't want any little girl playing around her little boy.
We've got to get you out of here, and there's only one way, over the balcony. Come on.
Oh, but I can't.
There's no time to get pretty-dubbed. Just come as you are. Come on.
She got out of bed and came out to the balcony with me.
I dropped a light line that I'd carried up with me.
Marius fastened it to a coil of three-quarter inch manila, which I pulled up and looped over the railing of the balcony.
Then I tied a French bowline on the end to make an improvised bosun seat, and Adele stepped into it.
I helped her over the edge of the railing, waved to Marius, and he began to lower the terrified ground.
As she disappeared from sight, I heard the door of the room open softly behind me.
I turned, the Frenchman quietly entered, and tipped over to the bed.
Adele?
Your pigeon's flown the two-foot.
What? You what?
You ought to thank me. This is the second time tonight I've kept you from committing murder.
You're the only one who's ever been to America.
And tonight I've kept you from committing murder.
With this expression of disapproval, he went for me.
I crouched, ready to flip him across the room with my best judo.
But this Frenchman fought with his feet. It was I who flipped.
In just a moment, we will return for the concluding act of...
...The French.
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I was out, not long, but long enough for him to get out on the balcony and take in Adele's improvised elevator.
I shook my head groggily to see him hacking away at the rope with a pocket knife.
I jumped in, yanked him away from the rope.
He leaped to his seat and came at me with a knife, pushing me back against the railing.
I fought off the knife hand, but it came closer and closer to my throat.
And then he lost his balance, just a flesh, and just enough for me to use judo.
And he flipped over the balcony and down, down to the rock below.
I climbed over the railing and went down the rope, hand over hand.
Adele stood trembling, staring at the silent heat that was the Frenchman's body.
Come on, Adele, we've got to get out of here.
It could have been me. It could have been me.
That's right. Give me a hand getting her aboard, Marius.
Come along, Adele. Easy now.
All right. There. There we are.
You just lay back and rest.
Who's down there? What's going on down there?
Uh-oh, I was afraid she'd hear that scream.
Fire her up, Marius.
We look, Captain.
Stop or I'll shoot.
All ahead, flank, Marius.
All ahead, flank from Captain.
No wonder she hired the Frenchman to do her killing for.
She can't shoot for sour apples.
Music
We got out beyond the three mile limit as fast as the mockingbird would go, which is plenty.
Then we headed east toward Monte Carlo.
The lights of the Boulevard de Zanglais twinkled like a jeweled necklace along the waterfront of Nice.
But we were safe out here.
In case Mrs. Dawson had alerted the Nicoirs Harbor Patrol to intercept us,
Villefrançus flipped a stern in the dark bulk of Cape Ferrat and then the little town of Bowdoin.
At last we rounded Cape Dye, and there ahead rose the white façade of Monte Carlo, hivering with light.
We flipped into the territorial waters of Monaco, safe from the French of Bowdoin.
We're going to drop the anchor, Steve.
We haven't got time.
Tie up at the customs here.
The customs?
Sure, we're not carrying contraband this time.
You don't have to smuggle as pretty a girl as Adele into Monaco.
We tied up at the customs, Doc, under the astonished gaze of the guard who had emerged from his red and white striped sentry box.
Pardon, monsieur. You have a landing for me?
Not yet. We're in a hurry.
But you're going to be fine.
Yeah, I know, I know. I'll be back.
Meanwhile, you guard my boat, huh?
Monsieur!
You see, we're refugees from France.
Oh?
And a fair d'amour.
Oh, well, in that case, monsieur.
Fancy!
We made our way to the terrace of the casino and stood outside looking through the windows of the Salon Présent.
It was crowded as usual with beautifully-gowned women and men in evening dress, intent upon the roulette and macarade and chamander fair.
Adele appeared anxiously, trying to find her boy in the crowd.
There are so many people I can't find.
Well, then let's go in.
I can? With your pea coat over my night dress?
An embarrassing...
Oh, start a new fashion.
Oh, please.
No, I mean it.
But my hair is such a mess.
Oh, well, in that case...
Oh, there he is!
Huh?
I see him.
Where?
Over there by the big roulette table. See? The tall blonde.
I'll go get him. Keep an eye on her, Marius.
Well, yet one key to save.
We did not bring her this far to let her get away, huh?
Well, well, voilà, monsieur.
Let's resume, monsieur, and dance.
This is the roulette double zero.
Voilà, monsieur. Let's resume, monsieur, and dance.
We have no more.
Monsieur, your name's Chuck Dustin?
Yeah, why?
Someone wants to see you outside on the terrace.
Oh, oh.
Surprise.
What is it?
Come along.
Hey, wait a minute. I got a lot riding on 17 and rich.
We've got a lot more riding out on the terrace, Adele.
What?
Come on.
You're red.
Monsieur. Monsieur Dupain.
You're not going to see me.
I can't believe it.
Adele.
Chuck. Chuck, I never thought I'd see you again.
Well, what is this? What's this all about?
Well, there'll be plenty of time for explanations later.
The important thing is, do you want to marry this girl?
Of course I do.
Well, then I suggest you do it right away and in Monte Carlo,
where the authorities take a dim view of murdering mothers-in-law
and kidnapping skippers.
Suspense.
You've been listening to Moonlight Sale, written for suspense by William N. Robeson.
In a moment, the names of our players and a word about next week's story of suspense.
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Music
You heard in tonight's story where Frank Thomas, Jr. as Steve,
Louis Van Rooten as Jacques, Joan Lazer as Adele, and Ethel Owen as Mrs. Dawson.
Others included Jack Manning, Jim Bowles, Sam Raskin, and Guy Rett.
A sober word about this holiday season.
Keep in mind, all through the holiday season, highways are dangerous.
Slow, steady, and sober will see you safely through.
And listen again next week when we return with Zero Hour,
Ray Bradbury's chilling story of the day that children take over the world.
Another tale well calculated to keep you in the best.
On CBS Radio.