43-05-18_The_ABC_Murders.txt

This is the man in black here again to introduce Columbia's program Suspense. Our distinguished stars tonight are two of the world's. Acknowledged masters of the art of suspense. They are Mr. Charles Lawton and Miss Elsa Lanchester. Mr. Lawton, who will soon be seen in the Metro Goldwyn Mayer picture, The Man from Down Under, is here to play a remarkable character created by England's noted thriller author, Agatha Christie. A mild mannered character whose initials were ABC and about whom revolved a series of savage murders, all neatly and alphabetically arranged. ABC was stamped upon all his belongings, those being his rightful initials. And ABC was stamped too upon the large railway timetable he always carried. But there was nothing so odd about that detail, since no traveler in the British Isles would dream of planning a journey without consulting this famous railway schedule, the ABC. And so, with the ABC murders by Agatha Christie, written for radio by Robert Tallman and William Spear, and with the performance of Charles Lawton, we again hope to keep you in suspense. When the time for closing bell rang in the public library, Alexander Bonaparte Cut started, picked up his battered briefcase with the almost faded initials ABC, closed the book he had been reading, and shuffled over to the librarian's desk. It's a most interesting book, Librarian. I should like to come back sometime and read another chapter of it, if I may. Quite. Yes, Mr. Clark. Can I help you, sir? No hurry. Well, I'll be going along now. Thank you. A rum little chap, that. What do you think he was reading? Studies in epileptic somnambulism. Medical stuff, eh? Oh, I say, the little fellow left his briefcase. I'll catch him at the door. I say, sir, just a moment. You left something. Oh, dear, it's my briefcase. I'm terribly sorry. I seem to be getting more and more forgetful lately. Finally, the other day, I left it on the counter in a tobacco shop. Lucky you have those initials. Not many people with the initials A, B, C stick in your mind. What do you mean by that, sir? Well, after all, they're the first three letters of the alphabet. Practically the first thing we learn, you know, isn't it? Our ABCs. Don't mention those letters to me. They brought bad luck to me in more ways than one. Really? How's that? Well, I used to be a traveling salesman, and I used to carry one of those railway timetables in my pocket, the threepenny kind, in which they list the towns and all the railroads alphabetically. Oh, of course. Printed right on the cover, isn't it? ABCs. Yes, that's right, sir. Well, Stockings was my line, sir. I did door to door selling. Whenever I finished one town, out would come that timetable, and I'd look up the next stop on my route. I got sick of the sight of that ABC railway guy, I can tell you, sir. It was like a symbol of failure to me. One dingy little town after another, and all listed in that railway guide with ABC printed on the cover. My own initials staring out at me from every newsstand in every dirty little railroad station in the Midlands. Oh, come on. It couldn't have been as bad as all that. Matter of fact, I never noticed it until I began to get the headaches. Oh, you suffer from headaches? Yes. Hmm. Have you seen a doctor about it? Oh, no, no. I wouldn't want to see a doctor about it. I already know what brings them on. Well, if you'd rather not talk about it. Oh, no, no. It isn't that at all, sir. It was just such a long time ago. During the last war, in fact, Chateau Thierry. Chateau Thierry? Oh, I see. What a coincidence. I was in the thick of that myself. Yes, we must get together for a drink one day to talk over old times. Franklin Clark is my name. I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Clark. My name's Cust. Alexander Bonaparte Cust. Well, they must have expected great things of you, giving you a name like that. I'm afraid they did, Mr. Clark. Yes. I'm very much afraid they did. Mr. Cusk. Oh, Mr. Cusk. Who is it? It's me, Mr. Cusk. I've brought you up a spot of tea. Oh, it's you, Miss Marbury. That was very thoughtful of you. Oh, nonsense. You know, Mother dotes on you. You're her favorite lodger, in fact. Why, Mr. Cusk, you're packing your things. You're not leaving us, are you? Oh, no, I'm just. Taken a little trip over the bank holiday, you know. Now, now, don't try to deceive me, Mr. Cust. You're embarrassed about owing us, aren't you? No. You needn't be, Mr. Cust. Really, you needn't. Oh, you are a nice girl, Miss Marbury. You really are a nice girl. As a matter of fact, I'm not going just for the bank holiday. I've something rather important, some very important matters to take care of. You know, it's very possible that my mother didn't have me christened Alexander Bonaparte Cust for nothing. Have you got a position, Mr. Cust? Well. What is it? Well. Oh, come, Mr. Cut. You can tell me, can't you? Well, Miss Lily, I can tell you this much. I shall be traveling quite a lot. In fact, where did I leave that ABC railroad guard? Oh, yes, here it is. First stop, Andover. Andover? That's not very far. No, no, no. But I must be getting on if I don't want to miss that train. Now, let me see. Have I got everything? There's my spectacles and my overcoat, my typewriter, my walking stick. Did I ever tell you the history of this walking stick, Miss Marbury? It's a Scottish piece, very old. It's old. It's antique. You know, they used to kill people with these back in the days of the old clan wars and. Scotland. I wonder how many heads this one has bashed in. Mr. Cut! Oh, please! What a terrible way to say it. Yes, I'm sorry, Miss Marbury. I am a little bit surprised at myself talking like that. It must be my new job. It's gone to my head a bit. That's it. It's gone to my head. Have you got an aspirin by any chance? I've got an. Yes, gentlemen. What'll it be? Packing a cold place for me. Yes, sir. And the other gentleman? Three Avannas, the shilling cigars. Avannas? You gentlemen must be up from London. That's right. Is that your name on the window of this shop? That's right, sir. Olivia Asher. Been in business right here in Andover and right here in St. Andrew's Place for 20 years. All A's. Andover, St. Andrew's Place, and Asher. Funny, ain't it? Never so much as crossed the line before. Well, Mrs. Asher, we're from Scotland Yard. We have reason to believe there may be a homicidal maniac at large in Andover. Good lord. We don't want to frighten you, Mrs. Atcher. For all we know, this may be just a practical joke. You see, we received an anonymous letter, typewritten, and signed ABC. ABC? This murderer, if there's anything in his story, is planning a series of murders. His mania seems to be centered on the alphabet. If he follows his plan through, his first murder will be committed in Andover, and the victim will be a person whose name begins with an A. The Lord help me, sir. You don't think. We don't think anything. Scotland Yard has taken its precautions. Oh, a woman takes a terrible chance. There's probably nothing to be alarmed about, but it won't hurt to keep a sharp lookout. Who's next on your list, Mackenzie? Next is Arthur Atwood. All right. Let's be on our way then. Good day, madam. Don't worry. Thank you, sir. And good day to you, sir. A murdering lunatic in Andover of all places. Yes, sir. What'll it be for you, sir? Three. That'll be one and six, sir. I said that'll be. Oh, no, no, no! No! 630 newspapers, that station. I'm inside a maniac in Andover. Alphabet murderer destroyed next to spectacle. Latest on ABC. Oh, boy, let me have one of those, will you? Yes, and use a stencil. Both, here you are. Thank you, sir. 630 newspapers, that station. Nosty business, eh, mister? Oh, yes, very, very. You never know with lunatics. They don't always look bomber, you know. Sometimes they look the same as you on me. Eh? Yes, I suppose they do. Oh, it's a fact. Sometimes it's the war on each of them. Never been right since. Yes, I expect you're right. You know, I don't hold with war. I hope this will be the last. You don't hold with wars, eh? Well, young man, I don't hold with plague and sleeping sickness and famine and cancer, but they happen all the same. And murder happens all the same. They can't prevent them. I'm sorry, sir. I expect you had a rocky time of it in the last one, eh? Yes, yes, my poor head. It's never been the same since. I get terrible headaches. Oh? Well, I'm sorry about that, sir. Sometimes I hardly know what I'm doing. You don't say? I forget things. You know, for instance, I could have sworn I had an ABC railway guide in my pocket an hour ago. Do you know, they found one of them ABC railway guides on the poor tobacconist lady that he murdered. Who? He's ABC. Whoever he is. Maybe he don't know himself. Never stop to think of that. Maybe he's so bomb he don't remember. I wonder. Bexhill, Bexhill, did he say Bexhill? That's my train. Well, goodbye, young man. Goodbye. May I have your order, sir? Well, I don't think I'll have the ham. I had ham for breakfast. Yes, I think I'll have the mutton pie. Mutton pie? Yes, sir. What's the matter with you? You're trembling, young woman. Is something wrong? Oh, sir, if you only knew. I have to walk home tonight after they close up here. And there ain't hardly a light in Benson Terrace where I live. Benson, Benson, tell us in Bexhill. Yes, sir. You're afraid of the ABC murderer, aren't you? He follows the alphabet, don't he? That was the way he'd done in Andover. Hey. And does your name begin with a B? Barnard's my name. Mary Barnard. Oh, dear me, Miss Barnard. Well, I don't like to appear forward. Well, anyway, I'm old enough to be your father. Would it make you feel easier if I saw you home tonight? Oh, you don't know, sir. You just don't know what it would mean. Well, what time do they close up here? Nine o'clock. All right, I'll wait outside for you. At nine o'clock. Oh, all right. Ladies, waitress brutally murdered in Vexhill. ABC strikes again. ER, sir. Struck to the yard with these third murder notes. Alphabet murderer to strike again in Cheston. ER! Yes, sir. Third class single to Cheston. ER! Give me a pint of half an hour, please. Yes, sir. There you are, sir. You're up from London, too? Yes, I come directly from London. Ah, salesman? Stockings is my line. Rough going these days, what with rationing, eh? Well, well, well. It isn't my old friend, Alexander Bonaparte Cook. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't remember. We met in the library, remember? Ah. In London, yes, had quite a talk. Franklin Clark, remember? Yes, of course. You'll forgive me, Mr. Clark. My memory, it's. Seems to be getting worse and worse. You must have come under better times, Mr. Cuss. New briefcase, I see. Nice, bright new initials. Well, I got a job shortly after I saw you, Mr. Clark, from Ballinger Limited Stockings. It's my old line, you know. But to tell you the truth, I haven't been doing very well. Oh, those headaches again? Yes, the headaches. And the murders. The murders have upset me something terrible. Oh, well, you're shaking like a leaf, man. No. Hey, Jonathan. A brandy for Mr. Cuss. He needs it. The trouble with you, Cust, is you're inclined to be morbid. I remember that book you were reading the day we met, Stuff About Epilepsy. Well, it might be epilepsy, mightn't it? What? Well, they discharged me from the army before the war ended. You see, I had a kind of a fit, you know. Never had anything like it again, have you? No, I didn't have a fit again, just the headaches. I forget what happens hours at a time. Do you know, once I was sitting in a station waiting room and a newsboy came by and I bought a paper from and it was all about that first murder. In Andover. It said the police had got another note, another typewritten note, Mr. Clark, and the murderer was going to strike next in Bexhill. And suddenly I realized I was in Bexhill. And I'd been in Andover the day before when the first murder happened. Well, how did you happen to go from Andover to Bexhill? Well, that's the way I'm supposed to go on my route, selling the stockings. I'm supposed to take the towns alphabetically. Oh, well, then it's not so surprising you should have been in Bexhill after all, is it? Just a coincidence. Well, the waitress in Bexhill there, I. I walked home with her that night, Mr. Clark, the night she was murdered. Well, good heavens, Cusk, you don't think you killed Mary Barner, do you? I don't know, Mr. Clark. It said in that book that people who have had epileptic fits often do things and don't remember them. They even commit crimes. I said goodnight to her, and after that, I don't know what happened. But the notes, those typewritten notes, wouldn't you have remembered if you'd written them? I don't know. Well, now, I know a little something about psychology myself, Cusk. And I'd stake everything I own on the fact that the man who wrote those notes was conscious of what he was doing. Do you really think so, Mr. Clark? Positive of it. Now pull yourself together, ma'am. Incidentally, my sister-in-law lives here in Churston. My brother is Lord Cameron Clark, and I happen to know she needs some new stockings. Hop over there in the morning, will you, and show the old girl your line? Here, here's the address. Might cheer you up to make a good thing. Oh, I'm sure it would, Mr. Clark. I'm sure it would. Well, good night, Mr. Clark, and thank you again for all your kindness on the process. Oh, wait a minute. You've forgotten something again? Oh, dear me, that's my typewriter. I shall certainly need that. Oh, well, it's to type up my report to the Home Office in case I should make that sale tomorrow. Oh, of course. Oh, yes, yes. By the way, Cus, better watch out. Somebody in Cheston is going to be murdered tomorrow. Old ABC is up to the letter C, you know, and your name is Cus. Oh, I say, good heavens, mine is Clark. Oh, yes. Well, thank you again for your generous order, Lady Clark. I hope you'll be pleased. This line of woolen lined stockings is one of Ballinger's Best Buys right now, Lady Clark. My brother in law told me that you'd had some unfortunate times lately, Mr. Cus. But I really did need the stockings, and I should. Hello again, Cus. Hello. I've been stuffing myself with bacon and eggs. Make a sale, old boy? Oh, yes, Mr. Clark. Thank you very much. Good, good. Louise is filthy with money, and her ladyship's legs are in constant need of recovering. Oh, I wouldn't say that. Yes, really. She wanted the stockings. Well,. Thank you very much, my lady. I hope I shall have the privilege of serving you again next year. Goodbye, Mr. Cast, and good luck. Cheerio, Cast. Such a nice little man, Franklin. He's a bit off his nut, I'm afraid. Last night he tried to convince me that he was the ABC murderer. His initials, you know. He has minor lapses of memory. Is that little man a murderer? Oh, really, Franklin? Good Lord, what was that? Tell the mead. Where is that girl? What's going on? In the master's bedroom, my lady. You better go with her, Mr. Franklin. Grathers, whatever are you doing here? Oh, my lady, the master, Lord Clark, has been murdered. Stabbed with a knife. Oh, I'm obliged. Murder? Oh, good heavens. Why, look, look there on the floor. A railway guide, an ABC. Get me out of here, Fletcher. Oh, Louise, I'm sorry you had to see me. Oh, Cameron. My poor Cameron. You never made an enemy in his life. The man who did this was a maniac. And I'm afraid I know who he is. He always carried a walking stick with a heavy. Carved handle. That's how the other murders were committed, with a heavy stick. But he wasn't carrying his stick today. Must have grabbed a knife up there somewhere to kill Cameron with. But when? Were you with him every minute? Well, I went upstairs to get my checkbook. It took me a little while to find it. That gave Custis opening. Oh, to think that all that time. Oh, no. No, I'll never forgive myself, Franklin. Well, none of that now, Louise. The important thing now is to stop him before he can commit another murder. But what are you going to do, Franklin? I'm going to the police and see if they'll let me help. Let's have a look at this ABC railway guide he left beside Port Cameron. Hmm. Look here. All checked. See there? Andover, Bexhill, Churston. Each with a check mark after it. Yeah. Where's the next one? Ah, see? See London. He's through with ABC. He's gone home, and I'm going after him. Yes? Yes. Well, Mr. Cust, come in. What ever kept you away so long? Miss Lily, I've got to talk to you alone. Oh, well, I'll go up with you. I want to show you the new curtains I put up in your room anyway. Oh, you are a nice girl, Miss Lily, really, wasn't you? Yeah, let me carry one of these, Mr. Cust. A tight, tight one. No, no, no, I'll carry my own thing, thank you. Oh, Mr. Cust, you're trembling. Oh, dear, you too. Look upright. Look, I'm going to straighten get you a hot foot bath. No, no, not now, please. Not now, Miss Lily. There's no time for it. What is it, Mr. Cust? Close the door and lock it. Are you in some trouble, Mr. Cust? I'm in trouble. Terrible trouble, Miss Lily. I want you to hear the story first from me. You're the only one who has ever been my friend. Oh, I've had a lonely life, Miss Lily. Oh, poor Mr. Cus. Poor Mr. Cus. That's what they always say about me. Poor Mr. Cus. I thought you were different. Oh, don't take on so, Mr. Cus. It was only a manner of thinking. Oh, you don't need to worry. I'm all right now. I never get two spells in one day. Spells? Mr. Cus, I don't understand. Well, what is it? You heard of the ABC murders. Shocking affair. But, Mr. Custer, why are you here? Miss Lily, the police will be here at any minute. Please let me finish. I don't want you to think harshly of me, Miss Lily. I didn't plan it ahead. My instructions told me where to go. Some people can't help what they do. There are diseases. Epilepsy, for instance. You do things you don't remember. You commit crimes. And I'm like that. Oh, Mr. Custer, I can't believe it. When I was a child, Miss Lily, they used to badger me about my name. My mother worshipped strength. She named me after the strongest people she knew about in history Alexanders. And Bonaparte, that nobody ever called me by those names. They called me ABC. ABC. I used to dream I was boiling in a kettle of alphabet soup. I was a terrible disappointment to my mother. Mr. Cust, you're unsettled and tired. You've got to hear me out, Miss Lily. Oh, please don't. Now listen to me, Miss Lily. I couldn't have been an hero once in the army in the last war. I was happy. I could have made something of myself. Then I started getting the headache. No, Mr. Cust. You must hear me out, Miss Lily. I started forgetting things. I After they discharged me from the army, shot they called it. I used to have dreams. I was a great ruler. The destiny of men was in my hands. I had the power over them of life and death. Let me go! Please let me go! First there was Andover, that tobacconist. I can't even remember what she looked like. Then there was Bexhill. I walked home with a waitress from the station restaurant. She was murdered too. In Cheston, I sold a dozen pairs of stockings to a lady, and while she was upstairs getting her checkbook, her husband was murdered on the floor. Floor where I was waiting, and now I've come back here. Maybe the alphabet charm is over, or is it? This is London. L. Your name is Lily. Are you trying to frighten me, Mr. Cus? I am trying to convince you. You, murderer? I'd as soon believe it as your mother. What about this? Look at it. Oh, no, look closely at it. I found it in my briefcase when I came on the train, Miss Lily. This knight murdered a man in Churston just three hours ago. Oh! No! No! Oh, now, there, there, Miss Marbury, don't take on so. You've all been got pretty as you please in the next room. Oh, he was such a nice man, but I still can't hardly believe it. Is this the knight he threatened you to win, Miss Marbury? No. We just got here in the nick of time, eh, Froome? Hey, that's a wicked looking knife. It's the Churston murder knife, right enough, Mr. Clark. No doubt of it. Well, let's take inventory typewriter. Checks with a murder note. Walking stick. Same markings as on the heads of the first victims. And the psychiatrist's report says the murders were premeditated and the notes could not possibly have been written except by a person who was conscious and in his right mind. Well, that breaks down any idea Cust may have had of entering an insanity, please. Right. I think he'll sign the confession without any difficulty. Bring him in. Bring the prisoner in. Well, Cust, are you ready to sign your confession? I don't know, Inspector. A moment ago I was certain I must have done it. But why? That's what worries me. Why? Mr. Clark, why do you think I did it? You're wasting valuable time, Cust. I don't care why you did it. You killed my brother, and I want to see you hang for it. I don't care how balmy you are. You ought to be ashamed of yourself talking to our Mr. Cust in that bloodthirsty manner. I don't know what. Getting into the gentry on shore. He tried to murder you, didn't he? Well, he couldn't help himself, poor thing. He's been terribly upset of late. You are a nice girl, Miss Lily. You are a nice girl, Miss Lily. The murders were willful and premeditated. They couldn't have been premeditated, Mr. Clark. Why do you say that, Cut? Well, because I didn't go to any of those places of my own choice. I had my instructions from Berenger's Limited. To the police, got the warnings of the murders that were printed in the paper. There never were any such instructions. We ransacked all your things, Cuss. There wasn't any letter of instructions, was there, Inspector? No. Oh, yes, there was. All right, we'll ring up Ballengers. May I use your telephone, Miss Marbury? Oh, certainly, Inspector. The number is Regent 3313, Inspector. Ballengers, are you there? Put me on the personnel. Oh, Mac, start packing those exhibits, will you? All right. Uh,. Phone speaking, Scotland Yard. But what day did you employ a commercial traveler named Alexander Bonaparte Cust? No, Cust. AB Cust. Initials ABC. Yes? Yes? Never employed by you. Your absence is certain? Did you send a man to Andover or Bex Hill last week? Not on your route. Thank you. That's all I wanted to know. Too bad, Cust. I guess this knocked out your last ghost of a chance, doesn't it? No, Mr. Clark. Because you see, the instructions were in a letter, and that letter is right in this room. Well, let's have a look. Come on, Mackenzie, give me a hand. Let's go through these things again. It won't do any good to look there, Mr. Clark. I have the letter. Would you like to see it, Mr. Crome? It's here. Well, I'll be. Where did you get that? It wasn't on him, Inspector. I'll swear to that. Where did you have this in? Oh, well, Inspector, it isn't generally known, but I do wear a small hairpiece. Not out of vanity, mind you. I find it necessary for the business. Let's see that letter. Oh, gladly. Dear Mr. Kirst, enclosed, find, advance. Typewriter is being posted today. You will. What a lot of nonsense, Inspector. Look at the typeface of that letter. It's obviously written on Cus's typewriter. Yes, that's right, Mr. Clark. And the man for which that letter was the murderer. Cool as you like, he sent the typewriter to me and instructions on one of Ballinger's letterheads and the money and everything else. What kind of stunt are you trying to pull here, Cus? No stunt. It's just that when you made that telephone call, Inspector, and Ballinger said I'd never worked for them, I knew that the typewriter must have been sent to me by the murderer. And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that the murderer must be. Mr. Clark. What? This is too utterly fantastic, Inspector. Really, I know. Well, the murderer would have to know something about me. Something I'd never confided to anyone but to Mr. Clark about my, well, my headaches. I'd been reading a book in the public library, Inspector, a book on epilepsy, and it seemed to me that what I suffered during the last war might have been epilepsy. And it was on my mind, see? It said that epileptics might commit crimes and not remember them under certain conditions. Without that to go on, the murderer couldn't possibly have pinned the crime on me. That works two ways, Cust. You might have told me that story deliberately. Just so you could cook up this story now. Well, I couldn't cook up your fingerprints, Mr. Clark. And I'll wager anything. Your fingerprints are on that letter. Oh, come now, really. Well, that's easily settled. We can do it right here. Won't take a moment. Take a set of Mr. Clark's fingerprints, Mackenzie. You examine the prints in the letter meantime. Right, Inspector. Just press your fingers down firmly on this ink pad, Mr. Clark. What is it, Mr. Clark? It's quite simple, really. Yes, yes. It's so simple it isn't even necessary. I'm afraid this is necessary, Mr. Clark. Only a matter of routine, you know. I tell you it isn't necessary because Cust is right. I am the murderer. You? But wait, then you killed your brother, Cameron Clark, so that you would inherit the estate? Yes, exactly. But the others, the A and B murders in Andover and Bexhill and. I committed them, all of them. Yes, but. Come now, gentlemen, surely you'll give me credit for thinking this thing through. If only my brother, Lord Clark, had been murdered, I, being the only heir, would have had a lot of explaining to do. So I invented my own little crime wave to make it appear as though he were just one of the victims of a homicidal maniac. And I must say, it almost came off thanks to the unknowing cooperation of Mr. Cuss here. Thank you just the same, Mr. Cuss. You're very welcome. Oh, Mr. Cuss, I knew you couldn't be a murderer, not really. Oh, you are an high school, Miss Lily. Really, you are. No, no, no, no. Why don't you go to an oculist? Those idiots, maybe you just need a new pair of glasses. I think I'll do that, Miss Lily. Do you really think? Of course, I'll wager that's what's been the trouble with me all along. You know, you need someone to take care of you. Oh, I do, Miss Lily. I do, really. If only you. Oh, But no, you couldn't ever think. Not Mr. Cuff. Well, I mean, Miss Lily, I was just thinking it would be really too much to ask anyone. Mrs. Alexander Bonaparte Castres. But when we're married, please don't wear that toupee. It's very conspicuous. Oh, you are a nice girl, Mr. Lily. Really, you are. I do hope people won't call you Mrs. ABC. And so closes the ABC Murders, starring Charles Lawton with Alza Lanchester and Bramwell Fletcher. Tonight's tale of suspense. This is your narrator, the man in black. Who conveys to you Columbia's invitation to spend its half hour in suspense with us again next Tuesday when Agnes Moorhead will return to our stage as star of the suspense play called She Overheard Murder Speaking? The producer of these broadcasts is William Spear, who with Ted Bliss, the director, Ludd Cluskin, and Lucian Mahowick, conductor and composer, and Robert Tallman, the radio author, collaborated on tonight's. Suspense. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.