Generic Radio Workshop Script Library (BACK)

Series: Lights Out
Show: The Giggler
Date: Jul 26 1939

DRAMATIS PERSONAE:

FRANK RUSH--
Alternative coldness and
excitement of insanity.

FRED DUNDEE.
Polo player, etc.

PAMELA DUNDEE.
Junior League.

MR. BYRON GRANVILLE
Social and financial baron.

MRS. MARTHA GRANVILLE.
Arbiter of society.

WICKTON ATWATER.
Dilettante and parlor pink.

BITS:
Trigger Genoa. (Murderer)
Weasel Nicoletti.
Weeper Blain. (Bum)
Annie Zenoff. (Night Club Hostess)
Link O'Daniel. (Mill Worker)
Maggie Shoestrings. (Street vender)
First Police Announcer
Second Police Announcer
Sergeant
Airline stewardess
Airline pilot
First Airport Announcer
Second Airport Announcer

VOICES OF PAGEBOY, PEOPLE ON THE STREET AND MELANGES OF NEWSBOYS AND AIRPORT ANNOUNCERS

VOICE:

Lights out, everybody.

TWELVE CHIME NOTES, WIND UP ON NINTH, DOWN BEHIND.

G O N G

BIZ:

BRING UP AVERAGE FOOTSTEPS ACROSS FLOOR

PAGEBOY:

(ON CUE) I'll open the door for you, sir.

BIZ:

DOOR OPENED AND CLOSED. STEPS DOWN STAIRS. TRAFFIC NOISES FADE IN. STEPS STOP.

MAN:

Need a match? Here. Here's a light.

BIZ:

MATCH STRUCK AND BLOWN OUT. STEPS RESUME AND TRAFFIC FADES UP TO COVER. TRAFFIC DOWN AND OUT QUICKLY. REESTABLISH STEPS ON GRAVEL. STEPS STOP. DOOR JERKED OPEN.

TRIGGER:

Who's there? Uh---just some swell, huh? Well, get goin'. (SLIGHT PAUSE) G'wan, beat it! Don't just stand there.

WEASEL:

Boss, I don't like the looks of this guy.

TRIGGER:

Shut up, Weasel! I ain't afraida--- (THROTTLED. GASPS.)

BIZ:

BODY FALL

RUSH:

(GIGGLES. NOT A MANIACAL LAUGH, BUT MERELY A GIGGLE SLIGHTLY TINGED WITH HYSTERIA. RUSH MUST BE LITERALLY, NOT FICTIONALLY, INSANE. GIGGLE FADED IMMEDIATELY.)

BIZ:

ON CUE, FOOTSTEPS AGAIN ON PAVEMENT.

WEEPER:

If ya please, sir, a dime fer a cupa coffee. I ain't had nothin' t' eat fer two days, honest I ain't. Jest a dime fer a cuppa--- (THROTTLED. TRIES TO SCREAM)

BIZ:

BODY FALL

RUSH:

(GIGGLES. FADED IMMEDIATELY.)

BIZ:

ON CUE, FOOTSTEPS ON PAVEMENT.

ANNIE:

(SLIGHT FADE IN) Hi, big boy. Say, you look like an okay guy. Why don't you an' me---uh---have a coupla drinks, huh? (SLIGHT PAUSE) Well, yuh might at least give a girl a smile. Who do you think yuh are anyhow? Why you big, overstu---- Ohhhh! (THROTTLED. SCREAMS.)

BIZ:

BODY FALL

RUSH:

(GIGGLES. FADED IMMEDIATELY.)

BIZ:

ON CUE, FOOTSTEPS ON PAVEMENT. STOP.

LINK:

Hey you mugg, who d'ya think y're pushin'? Link O'Daniel don't take no pushin' around, see? I got a notion t'--- (THROTTLED. MOANS.)

BIZ:

BODY FALL

RUSH:

(GIGGLES. FADED IMMEDIATELY.)

BIZ:

ON CUE, FOOTSTEPS ON PAVEMENT.

MAGGIE:

(FADE ON) Shoestrings. Buy a shoestring. (ON MIKE) Buy a shoestring, Mister. Help a crippled old lady what ain't no use to nobody. Buy a shoes--- (THROTTLED. SCREAMS.)

RUSH:

(GIGGLES. FADED UNDER GONG.)

G O N G

BIZ:

FADE IN POLICE SIREN. SUSTAIN HIGH BRIEFLY, FADE AND MAINTAIN BEHIND.

FIRST ANNOUNCER:

(FILTERED) Calling cars seven, nine, fourteen. Calling cars seven, nine, fourteen. Go to Rush Street at the Chicago River. Unidentified man killed. Rush Street at Chicago River.

SECOND ANN.:

(FILTERED) Cars eighteen and twenty-six. Officers Flaherty, Wilks and McDermett. Go to corner of Clark and Van Buren. Woman murdered. (FADE) Clark and Van Buren.

FIRST ANN:

(JUMP CUE) Unidentified man murdered in Lincoln Park off Belmont. Cars three and five. (FADE) Calling cars three and five.

SECOND ANN:

(JUMP CUE) Wentworth and Clark. Shoestring vender murdered. Go to Wentworth and Clark. Go to Wentworth and Clark. Go to Wentworth and Clark.

BIZ:

SIREN SWELLS UP OVER VOICE OF SECOND ANNOUNCER. SUSTAIN BRIEFLY. DOWN AND OUT.

SERGEANT:

(ON CUE) Come on, Weasel Nicoletti, you'd better talk. It isn't healthy for a guy with a police record like yours to be found hangin' around a murder!

WEASEL:

All right, I'll talk. I didn't have nothin' t' do with it, honest I didn't. Some silk hat jest walks up t' Trigger an'----

SERGEANT:

(INTERRUPTING) Trigger? Not Trigger Genoa by any chance?

WEASEL:

Yah.

SERGEANT:

I don't believe it.

WEASEL:

Fingerprint 'im an' see for yourself.

SERGEANT:

Oh, those cops! Five hundred bucks on his head for the Henderson killing and they don't even recognize him when they find him! Jeez, what smart cops! Well---okay, what happened?

WEASEL:

This guy jest grabs 'im---not sayin' a word---an' cuts out his heart.

SERGEANT:

Cut out his heart!

WEASEL:

Grabbed it right outa 'im while it was still beatin'. I seen it! Then he drops it into some kind of a jar he was carryin' an' beats it.

SERGEANT:

You're sure he didn't say anything at all?

WEASEL:

Naw, nothin'. But after he tears out Trigger's heart he jest sorta---jest sorta giggles.

BIZ:

ON CUE, FADE IN TRAFFIC NOISES.

NEWSBOYS:

(MELANGE. BEGIN ALL AT ONCE AS THOUGH NEWS JUST BREAKING OUT.)
Extry! Extry!
Read all about it!
Five murdered!
Extry! Extry paper!
Wanted murderer among those killed!
Trigger Genoa murdered in Lincoln Park!
Extry! Extry!
(CONTINUES)

WOMAN:

I'll take one, son.

BOY:

Here y'are, ma'am. Tells how he ripped out their hearts!

WOMAN:

Good heavens!

NEWSBOYS:

SUSTAIN FULL BRIEFLY

MAN:

Paper! Boy, paper! What's this about five killings?

BOY:

That's right, sir. All this mornin', sir.

MAN:

But---who did it?

BOY:

They don't know---but they call him The Giggler.

NEWSBOYS:

SUSTAIN BRIEFLY. FADE DOWN AND OUT

BIZ:

FADE IN AIRPLANE MOTOR AS NEWSBOYS FADE OUT. ESTABLISH WELL AND MAINTAIN BEHIND.

FRED:

(ON CUE) What town's that down there, Stewardess?

STEWARDESS:

Cheyenne, Wyoming, Mr. Dundee. Are you and Mrs. Dundee quite comfortable?

PAM:

We're very comfortable, Stewardess. Thank you.

GRANVILLE:

Stewardess!

STEWARDESS:

Yes, Mr. Granville?

GRANVILLE:

Mrs. Granville seems to be a little affected by the altitude.

STEWARDESS:

Oh, that's easily fixed. Chewing gum. I have some here.

MRS. GRANVILLE:

Really, I --

GRANVILLE:

Oh, come now, Martha. You mustn't be squeamish.

MRS. GRANVILLE:

But it's so vulgar, Byron. And besides, I'm quite all right. Never mind, young woman.

STEWARDESS:

But, Mrs. Granville, if you're---

MRS. GRAN:

Never mind!

FRED:

Mr. Granville, have you seen this story in the paper?

GRANVILLE:

What story's that, Fred?

FRED:

Some fellow killed five people this morning in Chicago. Must have happened just before we left. I picked up this copy of the Trib at the airport.

GRANVILLE:

Gang trouble again, I suppose.

FRED:

Apparently not. One of the murdered men was wanted by the police but according to the report here the victims seem to have been chosen almost at random. Just anyone.

GRANVILLE:

That's odd.

FRED:

Uh-huh. Listen to this. "All of the dead were slain in the same way. Each was strangled and the heart torn from the breast."

MRS. GRAN:

Mr. Dundee, must you read such things aloud?

GRANVILLE:

Martha, please. Go on, Fred.

FRED:

Well, it says that from the account of the only witness, some minor criminal called Weasel Nicoletti -

WICKY:

Weasel! That's right!

PAM:

Wicky dear, be quiet.

WICKY:

Sorry.

FRED:

This Weasel was with one of the victims when he was killed. He told the police that--(RATTLE OF PAPER)--here it is--"The killer cut open Trigger's (Trigger was one of the men killed) cut open Trigger's chest with his knife and ripped out his heart."

PAM:

Oh, Fred dear, that's awful.

FRED:

Then the story goes on to tell how he put the heart in some sort of a container he had with him. It describes it here. Covered over with leather and--well, look. Very much like that leather box right there.

RUSH:

Uhh? You speaking to me?

FRED:

No---sorry. I was just pointing out that leather case you have there by your seat. Very much like one we were talking about.

RUSH:

Oh.

FRED:

Sorry to have bothered you.

RUSH:

That's all right.

GRANVILLE:

Mind if I see the account for a moment?

FRED:

No, not at all. Here.

BIZ:

RATTLE OF PAPER

GRANVILLE:

Hummmmp! Sordid lot of people.

MRS. GRAN:

Who, dear?

GRANVILLE:

It lists the victims here. What a collection! Some uncouth steel mill worker named Link O'Daniel. Weeper Blain--

WICKY:

That's picturesque!

GRANVILLE:

Weeper Blain, an ordinary panhandler. Annie Zenoff, cabaret hostess employed at the Black and Tan club on South State Street.

MRS. GRAN:

Those creatures!

GRANVILLE:

A character known only as Maggie Shoestrings, address unknown, a shoestring vendor at Clark and Van Buren Streets. And that fellow Trigger, killed in Lincoln Park.

FRED:

Well, out of the bunch of them he's the only one that makes sense. Criminal record and wanted for murder. Somebody might have had a motive for killing him.

WICKY:

If I were a killer I think I'd start right here.

PAM:

Well, that's not very polite, Wicky.

WICKY:

Wickton Atwater polite? Why, Pamela. Now, as I was saying. Five people killed. Panhandlers, crooks, paupers, thugs. Not a penny to the lot, I imagine. But here in this plane--- You, Mr. Granville.

GRANVILLE:

Me?

WICKY:

Head of the house of Granville. Patriarch and millionaire. Mansion in Winnetka. Apartment on Lake Shore Drive. Shooting lodge in the north woods. And you, Mrs. Granville.

MRS. GRAN:

Really, Wicky---

WICKY:

Arbiter of Chicago society. Keeper of the blue book. Patron of the arts. And our newlyweds. Mr. Freddy Dundee and the lovely Pamela Dundee.

PAM:

Wicky, I---

WICKY:

Of the gilded, golden Dundees. Fred and Pamela. Polo and the Junior League. Princeton and Vassar. And lastly, Wicky. Wickton Atwater, Esquire. Fashion plate. Eligible bachelor. With blood as blue---and watery---as ink!

FRED:

(CHUCKLING) It's really quite a line-up. Murderer's meat, eh?

WICKY:

(MYSTERIOSO) And here we are, we five. Only one other passenger, that fellow with the leather case. Members one, two, three, four and five of the Saddle and Cycle Club---with hearts of solid gold---waiting for the murderer's knife! Hah!

PAM:

(LAUGHING) Oh, Wicky.

ALL:

(SCATTERED LAUGHTER)

RUSH:

Pardon me.

ALL:

(LAUGHTER DIES)

WICKY:

Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't realize I was in the way. (PAUSE. WHISPER) Look. He's carrying that leather case with him.

STEWARDESS:

(SLIGHTLY OFF) Is there something I can get for you, Mr. Rush? (SLIGHT PAUSE) I'm sorry but you can't go any further forward. Mr. Rush, I'll have to ask you not to--- (GASP AS SHOT)

BIZ:

SINGLE SHOT. BODY FALL.

ALL:

(AD LIB LITTLE GASPS AND CRIES.)

RUSH:

The rest of you sit still or you'll get the same. I'm going forward with the pilots. If any of you come through this door after me I'll shoot.

BIZ:

PLANE COMMUNICATING DOOR OPENED AND CLOSED. ROAR OF MOTOR LOUDER.

PILOT:

That you, Bess? Hey--what're you doin' up--- Put that gun down.

RUSH:

Take the plane down to the right. There's a field there large enough to land.

PILOT:

You must be crazy! Why, this is the roughest country on the route. Nobody could land down there. Not even in the daytime, let alone now in the dark.

RUSH:

Well, I can---if you won't. But you won't be alive to see me!

PILOT:

Jim, look out---he's gonna-- (GASP AS SHOT)

BIZ:

TWO SHOTS

RUSH:

(GIGGLE)

BIZ:

PLANE GOES INTO POWER DIVE COVERING GIGGLE. OUT UNDER GONG.

G O N G

FIRST ANNOUNCER:

(FILTERED) Pocatello calling Flight Five. Pocatello calling Flight Five. Come in, please. (LONG PAUSE) Pocatello calling Flight Five. Pocatello calling Flight Five. Come in, Flight Five. (PAUSE) Flight Five! Flight Five, why don't you answer? (PAUSE) Pocatello calling Cheyenne. Pocatello calling Cheyenne. Come in, Cheyenne.

SECOND ANN:

(FILTERED) Cheyenne answering Pocatello. Come in, Pocatello.

FIRST ANN:

Flight Five's fifteen minutes overdue here. They don't answer my call. Did they pass you on schedule?

SECOND ANN:

Flight Five passed here all okay. I'll try to contact them. Cheyenne calling Flight Five. Cheyenne calling Flight Five. Come in, Flight Five. (PAUSE) Come in, Flight Five. Flight Five! Flight Five!

VOICES:

(FILTERED, MELANGE.)
Salt Lake City calling Flight Five.
Come in, Flight Five.
Flight Five!
Denver calling Flight Five.
Cheyenne calling Flight Five.
Pocatello calling Flight Five.
Flight Five, Salt Lake City calling.
(SINGLE VOICE) Flight Five! Come in, please. (DEAD SILENCE)

FRED:

(ON CUE) You must try to compose yourself, Mrs. Granville.

MRS. GRAN:

But what will he do next? He shot down the stewardess and those two pilots in cold blood. And now he has us locked in this room---at his mercy!

WICKY:

Nice job he did landing the plane, though. I meant to congratulate him while he was herding us over to this corral.

GRANVILLE:

Wickton, I think we'd appreciate it if you'd save your humor for a more appropriate time. Don't you see that my wife and Mrs. Dundee are terrified?

WICKY:

Sorry, old boy. Just trying to strike the cheery note.

PAM:

Fred. Darling, what's he going to do with us?

FRED:

I don't know, dear. The way he killed those others doesn't promise much for us---but on the other hand he hasn't hurt any of us yet. Perhaps he just wanted to get them out of the way and plans to hold the rest of us for ransom.

GRANVILLE:

He won't get a penny of my money, the devil!

MRS. GRAN:

Please, Byron. If he wants money, let him have it.

GRANVILLE:

By heaven, I won't.

FRED:

It may be necessary to pay something at least until we can get away, Mr. Granville. I'm not sure but I think our host has landed us at a private ranch, probably his own, and certainly a long way from the nearest town. Not much chance for outside help here, I'm afraid.

BIZ:

DOOR OPENED

WICKY:

Speak of the devil.

BIZ:

DOOR CLOSED

RUSH:

(SLIGHT FADE ON) Stay seated, all of you. I don't want to shoot.

FRED:

If it's money you want we---

RUSH:

Money? No, thanks. I've got plenty of that. It's too late now for me to get what I wanted from your kind. But I'm going to get something else just as good! Better! I'm going to get revenge.

MRS. GRAN:

(GASP)

FRED:

You can't be serious. Revenge for what?

GRANVILLE:

If you lost on that Colorado Securities clean-up I'll see that your losses are repaid.

RUSH:

I've never lost on securities, Granville---no more than you have.

MRS. GRAN:

Mr. Granville will pay you well if you'll---

RUSH:

Mrs. Granville, didn't you hear me? I don't want money, I want revenge.

WICKY:

Isn't that a little strange, considering none of us had ever seen you until we got into the plane in Chicago this afternoon?

RUSH:

You've never seen me because you've refused to see me. Because you forced me to hide from snubs and rebuffs! You may understand better when you know my name. Frank Rush.

FRED:

You're Frank Rush!

RUSH:

Yes, Frank Rush. Frank Rush, the hidden genius of LaSalle Street. The unseen manipulator who climbed from the gutter to the gold coast! Of course you've never seen me. My father drank himself to death on raw alcohol. They found him under the el tracks. And after he died, my mother-- well, I needn't tell you about it. You spread the stories!

FRED:

But we---

RUSH:

And that's not all. It wasn't so hard for me. I was used to it. I didn't need luncheon clubs and golf to learn the wheat market--but there was my wife. A woman brave enough and good enough to love a man for what he could do---not what he was born. She was one of you! You remember her, Mrs. Granville. You refused to know Helen Rush, but you did know Helen Lanning. You entertained her in your home---remember? Until she married me. She's dead now---thank God, for her sake. She died without a friend---just as I've lived without a friend.

GRANVILLE:

Why have you singled us out?

RUSH:

I've been waiting my chance ever since Helen died. When you, the five of you, reserved passage for this flight I knew my chance had come.

MRS. GRAN:

But we haven't---

RUSH:

My wife made up the guest list for her first party after our elopement. It's here in my pocket. (RATTLE OF PAPER) Here. Here are the names, in her own handwriting. "The Thomas Lacherbees, Mr. and Mrs. Byron Granville, The Ernest Fillomores and their daughter Pamela, Col. James Flint, Wickton Atwater and guest, Mr. and Mrs. Harrison Dundee and their son Fred." Dinner was to be at eight. At eight-thirty no one had come. At nine-thirty Helen had the dinner plates removed from the table. At ten she ran out of the house without even a coat, crying. There was snow on the ground that night--but I didn't find her to bring her home until after midnight.

PAM:

Oh, we had no idea that ---

RUSH:

Apologies are a little late, Mrs. Dundee.

FRED:

Good heavens, man, my wife was just a girl when that happened. You can't take it out on her. It wasn't her fault.

RUSH:

I don't care whether it was her fault or not. She's one of you! Born with what I slaved for all my life and never got. Born with what my wife had to have to live and what you took away from her because she married me. I made as much money in the wheat pit as any of you--but that wasn't enough. Your whole rotten, entrenched society wouldn't let me in. That's why you're here---and nothing in the world can set you free until I'm ready to let you go.

MRS. GRAN:

Byron, can't you do something? He's mad! Can't you see he's mad?

GRANVILLE:

Look here, Rush, we'll---

RUSH:

(DISREGARDING HIM) Atwater, you're first. Come with me.

WICKY:

I suppose this time I'd better accept the invitation.

BIZ:

DOOR JERKED OPEN

RUSH:

Get through that door!

WICKY:

Since you insist.

BIZ:

DOOR CLOSED.

PAM:

(ON CUE) It's been nearly an hour. Do you think he's killed him?

FRED:

It's hard to tell.

MRS. GRAN:

Byron, offer him anything. Anything! He'll kill us all.

GRANVILLE:

I suppose his wife's death unbalanced his mind. That alternate coldness and excitement indicates something of the sort.

FRED:

Well, we've got to bargain with him somehow. We've got to protect our wives.

PAM:

Oh, Freddy, this is our honeymoon.

FRED:

Darling, we'll have fun yet. We'll be out of here before-- (KEY IN LOCK) He's coming back!

BIZ:

DOOR OPENED

RUSH:

(SLIGHTLY OFF) There're your friends.

FRED:

Mr. Rush, we want to---

BIZ:

DOOR SLAMMED AND LOCKED.

MRS. GRAN:

He's gone!

PAM:

Wicky! Wicky, are you all right?

WICKY:

(PLAYED NOW WITH A GOOD DEAL OF LINK O'DANIEL. MUST BE SHADED SO THAT IT WON'T TOO DEFINITELY TELEGRAPH THE FINISH) Sure, I'm okay.

PAM:

Oh, I'm so glad. Wicky, darling.

WICKY:

Leave me alone.

PAM:

Why---what's the matter?

WICKY:

Nothin'. Just leave me alone.

FRED:

What did he do to you, Wicky?

WICKY:

He didn't hurt me. I'da busted him in two if he had.

FRED:

What?

WICKY:

I'da busted him! Can't yuh understand English? All he did was give me a shot in the arm.

PAM:

A shot in the arm!

WICKY:

Sure. Said he wanted me to rest for a while. Then he brings me back here. That's the size of it.

PAM:

Wicky---uh---well---

WICKY:

Okay, shoot. What is it?

PAM:

You're sure you're all right?

WICKY:

Listen, can'tcha see? I'm all right. What that big--

BIZ:

KEY IN LOCK

PAM:

Shhh! He's coming.

BIZ:

DOOR OPENS

RUSH:

(SLIGHTLY OFF) Mrs. Granville.

FRED:

Mr. Rush, we're willing to do anything you say to---

RUSH:

Mrs. Granville.

MRS. GRAN:

No! Byron, do something.

GRANVILLE:

I'll give you money. Ten thousand. Fifty thousand. We'll hush it up. We'll---we'll take you into our homes. Anything!

RUSH:

Go on, squirm. If I know your kind you'll squirm even more when your turn comes. Now, the first person who moves gets shot. Come on, Mrs. Granville!

FRED:

Granville, we've got to rush him! He won't get his hands on---(GASPS AS SHOT)

BIZ:

SINGLE SHOT. BODY FALL.

PAM:

(SMOTHERED SCREAM) Freddy! Freddy! (SOBS) You've---you've killed him!

RUSH:

I think you'll find it's just a shoulder wound. There's something a lot better in store for him than death.

FRED:

(LIGHT MOANS)

RUSH:

Mrs. Granville, get through that door!

MRS. GRAN:

(FADING OFF) Byron! Byron, help me! Byron!

BIZ:

DOOR SLAMMED.

PAM:

(ON CUE) Is that better, dear?

FRED:

It's all right. It's just a flesh wound. It's all right now.

GRANVILLE:

What can he be doing to my wife? The monster! He'll take us all---one by one.

WICKY:

Aw, he doesn't do anything to you. Don't be yellow. Just don't get him sore, that's all.

GRANVILLE:

But he said he wanted revenge. There must be something---

BIZ:

KEY IN LOCK. DOOR OPENS

GRANVILLE:

Where's my wife?

RUSH:

(SLIGHTLY OFF) Your wife's all right. Atwater, you can go now. You'll find a man in the corridor who'll put you on the road to Rock Springs. You can get the bus to Laramie or Cheyenne or Pocatello there.

WICKY:

Okay, but what I want to know is, why ain't---why isn't---aw, never mind. (FADES OFF) So long, Freddy. Keep your nose clean, Pam.

GRANVILLE:

I want to see my wife.

RUSH:

Come on, Granville. We're going to her right now.

BIZ:

DOOR SLAMMED. LOCKED.

FRED:

Pam, I've got to get you out of here.

PAM:

Do you think he---killed Mrs. Granville?

FRED:

I don't know. I wonder if it's as simple as death.

PAM:

What do you mean?

FRED:

I don't know, really---but Wicky---

PAM:

He behaved so strangely. So---so---

FRED:

Almost as though he wasn't Wicky at all. None of his refinement, his grace. He talked like a---like a mill worker.

PAM:

And he always prided himself so on his sophistication. Being the dilettante. That's all he lived for. Without it he'd be nothing.

FRED:

I know. Well, there's no time to talk. We're the only ones left. We probably have about forty-five minutes yet to try to get away.

PAM:

What are you going to do?

FRED:

There's only this one door. I've got to try to force it open.

PAM:

But the noise'll give us away.

FRED:

We'll have to take that chance. You stand back. (RATTLING OF DOOR. TWISTING AND SHAKING OF KNOB.) Nope! Locked tight. The only chance is just to batter it down.

PAM:

Couldn't you pick the lock with one of my hair pins? It's just an ordinary lock, isn't it?

FRED:

Well, I don't know. Might try it.

PAM:

Here. It's better than making a lot of noise.

FRED:

All right. If it doesn't work I can still try to break it open.

BIZ:

HAIR PIN SCRATCHING ON DOOR LOCK

PAM:

Are you getting it?

FRED:

Can't tell. Seems to be--(LOCK CLICKS OPEN) Pam, I've got it open!

PAM:

Oh, Freddy. Now let's get out. I didn't want you to know, but I've been so scared.

FRED:

Goose. So have I. Come on.

BIZ:

DOOR OPENED AND CLOSED QUIETLY.

PAM:

No one around.

FRED:

No. Just this passageway. Let's try this way, huh?

PAM:

All right.

FRED:

There's the end of the corridor up ahead.

PAM:

Uh-huh.

FRED:

Look, it's barred. That oak door with the bars across. We'd better try the other way.

PAM:

Are you sure we can't get through here?

FRED:

Not a chance. Come on, let's go back.

PAM:

But isn't that the door that opens to the outside, Fred?

FRED:

I think so--but we can't get through. Maybe there's another way.

PAM:

All right. Back this way?

FRED:

Uh-huh. It's strange that there's only this one corridor. Look, there's a room opening off the corridor down there past that room we were held in.

PAM:

I'm afraid, dear.

FRED:

We'll have to risk it. I'll go a little ahead and look in. (SLIGHT FADE) You wait right here. I'll call you.

PAM:

All right.

FRED:

(ON CUE) Come on, Pam.

PAM:

(SLIGHT FADE ON) Is there a way to get out?

FRED:

Look.

PAM:

Mrs. Granville!

FRED:

She's unconscious.

PAM:

Fred, she stirred just then. Her eyes are opening.

MRS. GRAN:

(PLAYED WITH A GOOD DEAL OF ANNIE ZENOFF.) Ohhhh.

FRED:

Are you all right, Mrs. Granville?

MRS. GRAN:

Ohh. Oh. What happened?

PAM:

Just lie still, Mrs. Granville. You'll feel better in a minute.

MRS. GRAN:

He gave me somethin' in the arm. Kind of folded me.

PAM:

What did you say?

MRS. GRAN:

You wouldn't know about those things, honey.

PAM:

Fred, she's just like--

FRED:

Shhh. Mrs. Granville, do you feel well enough to get up?

MRS. GRAN:

Sure I do. Why not?

FRED:

Well, come with us then. Pam and I are trying to get away. Hurry!

MRS. GRAN:

No.

PAM:

Mrs. Granville.

MRS. GRAN:

He heard me.

FRED:

Will you come or must we leave you here?

MRS. GRAN:

I'll scream if you come near me.

FRED:

All right. Come on, Pam.

PAM:

But we can't leave her here.

FRED:

Don't you see it's too late. We can't wait. I've got to save you. Come on.

MRS. GRAN:

Have fun, kiddies. (LAUGHS, FADED)

FRED:

(ON CUE) This door here at the end of the corridor's our only chance. It must open into a central room. If we can get in there we may find a way out.

PAM:

I can just see through this crack in the door. There's a strong light in the center of the room.

FRED:

Rush isn't in there, is he?

PAM:

(JUMP CUE) Fred, look!

RUSH:

(FADE IN) There you are, Mr. Granville. Strapped down tight. Even the morphine I injected into your arm won't keep you from twitching when I open your chest. Here, I'll unbutton your shirt. I have to do it carefully you know, because you mustn't see that anything's been done at first. After there's been enough time for the change to take place, then there's plenty of time for you to find out. There, now you're all ready. This sharp knife.

GRANVILLE:

(SMOTHERED GROAN)

RUSH:

Ahhh. There. Now I must work quickly. I don't want you to die. That would be too easy. Just sever the aorta. There. Pulmonary artery.

GRANVILLE:

(GROANS)

RUSH:

Now---take out the heart.

GRANVILLE:

(HEAVY GROANS)

RUSH:

Hurry! Get it out clean. Then---see this heart. Still beating. Into your chest. Into the---there. Bind tight the aorta. Pulmonary artery. Got to keep you alive. Oxygen.

GRANVILLE:

(DEEP WHISTLING BREATHING)

RUSH:

Breathe! Breathe! Strychnine administrations. Ahh. That's good. Breathe! You've got to live, Granville.

GRANVILLE:

(BREATHING SETTLES TO MORE EVEN, EASIER PACE.)

RUSH:

(ON CUE) Ahhh, you'll live. There's that heart in your body that's beat feebly all day in normal salt solution. Now it'll rule your body---command your mind. Do you know who's heart that is, Granville? The heart of Weeper Blain--a common, dirty beggar, Granville! One of my kind. One of the people of the gutter. One like me! And now you have his heart. (GIGGLE. FADED.)

PAM:

(JUMP CUE) Oh, Fred. Look what he's done to Mr. Granville. He must have done that to the others, too.

FRED:

That's why they changed.

PAM:

Fred. Oh, Fred. (SOBS)

FRED:

Then Rush killed those five in Chicago. Weeper Blain. His heart for Granville. Wait---I've still got the newspaper. (RATTLE OF PAPER) Here it is. Here's the list. Weeper Blain. That's Granville. Then--yes---remember how Mrs. Granville talked? Annie Zenoff, the cabaret girl. Wicky was---here---Link O'Daniel, the steel mill worker.

PAM:

Fred, we've got to get away.

FRED:

There's no way. This corridor's a prison.

PAM:

No. No. There must be some way. We can't just---

FRED:

(INTERRUPTS WITH SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH)

PAM:

What is it, dear?

FRED:

There are just two hearts left.

PAM:

Two?

FRED:

(EYES STARING) "Maggie Shoestrings, address unknown, a shoestring vender at Clark and Van Buren Streets. A crippled, toothless hag of about---" No! Oh, Pamela.

PAM:

And the other?

FRED:

Trigger Genoa. Hoodlum---killer.

PAM:

(BREAKS INTO LOW SOBS)

RUSH:

(GIGGLING HEARD DISTANTLY.)

G O N G

ANNOUNCER:

Tonight's drama, THE GIGGLER, was written for LIGHTS OUT by Bill Fifield and directed by Gordon T. Hughes from our Chicago studios. THIS IS THE NATIONAL BROADCASTING COMPANY.