MUSIC:

THEME FADES IN ... KNIFE CHORD

VOICE:

SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

OUT ... THEN BRIEF MELODIC JINGLES PUNCTUATE THE FOLLOWING AT [X]

VOICE:

Tonight SUSPENSE brings you an all-star cast of Hollywood's finest radio players in the premiere of a remarkable story by Ray Bradbury called "Riabouchinska"!

ANNOUNCER:

But first we'd like to remind you that in hotels, restaurants, and homes of distinction -- wherever hospitality is a gracious art -- the knowing host serves C-R-E-S-T-A -- [X] -- B-L-A-N-C-A. [X] Cresta -- [X] -- Blanca. [X] Cresta Blanca! [X] Yes, the famous name of Cresta Blanca is a symbol of good taste and good living wherever discriminating people gather. And when you serve proud Cresta Blanca California wines, you pay guests the highest compliment a host can offer. So distinguish your table by pouring Cresta Blanca burgundy or Cresta Blanca sauterne -- yours to enjoy for gracious dining. Schenley's Cresta Blanca wine company, Livermore, California.

VOICE:

And now Schenley brings you Radio's Outstanding Theater of Thrills--

MUSIC:

KNIFE CHORD

VOICE:

--SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

OUT

ANNOUNCER:

--presented by Roma wines. That's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines of Fresno California, for your everyday enjoyment--

MUSIC:

THEME SNEAKS IN

ANNOUNCER:

--tonight starring Joseph Kearns, Lurene Tuttle, Wally Maher, and Armina Fargay in "Riabouchinska," a SUSPENSE play produced, edited, and directed for Schenley by William Spier.

MUSIC:

TAG ... THEN OUT

NARRATOR:

Mr. Ockham had a look about him in death as he had had in life; a general appearance which might prompt one to say, "There's a man who will one day be stabbed. Or shot. Or booted in the head." And although Mr. Ockham had not met his end in any of the aforementioned ways, he had been strangled, and he was dead -- dead on the floor of a theater cellar.

MUSIC:

ACCENT ... THEN BEHIND NARRATOR--

NARRATOR:

Yes, Mr. Ockham was deceased, and nobody seemed to care. Nobody but Detective-Lieutenant Krovitch who had been sent down to have a look around. On a table he saw a small polished bronze box with certain words on the lid, which read, "Riabouchinska, Property of John Fabian, World's Greatest Ventriloquist." Krovitch looked from the box to the three figures standing stiffly before him. They were John Fabian, ventriloquist; Alyce, his wife; and Bernard Douglas, Fabian's press agent. As Krovitch lit his cigar, it happened.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(SLIGHTLY MUFFLED) Please let me out! Oh, please let me out!

NARRATOR:

The four people looked with startled eyes at the box on the table. Then Fabian, the ventriloquist, stepped forward and spoke earnestly--

SOUND:

BRIEF FOOTSTEPS

FABIAN:

No, Ria. This is serious business, darling. You stay where you are. (CHUCKLES SELF-CONSCIOUSLY)

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(SLIGHTLY MUFFLED) Please don't laugh! You should be kind to me now after what's happened.

KROVITCH:

If you don't mind, Fabian, we'll have the dummy act at another time. Now let's get this matter clear. Each of you testify that you don't know who this dead Mr. Ockham is, yet he told the stage manager tonight that he knew Mr. Fabian and wanted to see him about something important.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(SLIGHTLY MUFFLED) Let me out!

KROVITCH:

Oh, stop it, Fabian.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(SLIGHTLY MUFFLED GIGGLING)

FABIAN:

Pay no attention to her, Lieutenant.

KROVITCH:

Her? You mean you. What is this? Get together, you two.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(SLIGHTLY MUFFLED, VERY SAD) We'll never be together again. Never again -- after tonight.

KROVITCH:

Give me the key to the box, Fabian.

SOUND:

BRIEF FOOTSTEPS ... KEY IN LOCK, TURNED ... BOX LID CREAKS SLOWLY OPEN

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(NO LONGER MUFFLED, PLEASANT) Thank you.

NARRATOR:

(BEAT) Krovitch stood motionless, just looking down, seeing Riabouchinska lying in her box and not believing what he saw. (MUSIC: EERIE ... SNEAKS IN) He thought there were nights in life when you dreamed, and this is what you dreamed. There were women you saw in life far down the street -- walking, fragile, far away, unattainable -- and this tiny figure was one of them. There were voices that you heard singing high in a dark church loft; voices that made the candle flame shudder and dance to every cadence, and this was one of those voices. On a summer afternoon you watched a spider gracefully spinning its cloudy web, and now that web was Riabouchinska's evening dress, here and now. You had heard of honesty and intelligence and frankness and unafraidness all your life, and now it looked straight up at you, fearlessly shining from a puppet's eyes. She was so beautiful, your throat closed and you were sad, because you knew that she was only a puppet. John Fabian tenderly picked up Riabouchinska.

MUSIC:

OUT

FABIAN:

(CHUCKLE) Isn't she beautiful? She's carved from the finest wood, Riabouchinska is. She's appeared in London, Paris, Rome, New York. Everyone in the world knows her and loves her. Many people question Riabouchinska's authenticity. They think she's really alive. That she's a midget. People just cannot believe she's constructed of wood.

MUSIC:

IN AND BEHIND NARRATOR--

NARRATOR:

John Fabian's wife Alyce stood glaring at her husband with a look of pure hatred, but he was aware of no one but the lifelike figure he held in his arms. And speaking to him, it said--

RIABOUCHINSKA:

Please don't go on about me, John. Alyce doesn't like it.

FABIAN:

Alyce has never liked anything about you, Ria.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(WHISPERS) Ssh! Don't. Not here and not now, John. (UP, TO KROVITCH) Tell me, lieutenant. How did it all happen? I mean, about poor Mr. Ockham.

KROVITCH:

(INCREDULOUS) What is this?!

FABIAN:

Er, you'd best return to your box, Riabouchinska.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(QUIETLY INSISTENT) But I don't want to. I have as much right to listen and talk. I'm as much a part of this murder as Alyce. Or - or Mr. Douglas even.

SOUND:

DOUGLAS JUMPS TO HIS FEET WITH--

DOUGLAS:

Don't drag me into this, you little witch!

MUSIC:

IN AND BEHIND NARRATOR--

NARRATOR:

And the manner in which he replied made it obvious that Riabouchinska was more than an illusion to him, for he reacted to her as to a real person.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

It's just that I want the truth to be told. And if I'm locked in my bronze casket, there will be no truth. (SOLEMNLY) For John Fabian is a consummate liar, and I must watch him. (BEAT, POINTEDLY) That's right, isn't it, John?

FABIAN:

(BEAT, CONCEDES) Yes, I imagine it is.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(SIMPLY) John loves me best of all the women in the world. And I love him. And try to understand his wrong way of thinking.

SOUND:

KROVITCH BANGS HIS HAND ANGRILY ON THE TABLE THREE TIMES

KROVITCH:

We're wasting time! If you think you'll interfere with my investigation, Fabian--!

FABIAN:

(INTERRUPTS) Lieutenant, I am helpless.

KROVITCH:

But she's in your throat.

MUSIC:

SNEAKS IN BEHIND FABIAN, CONTINUES IN BG--

FABIAN:

No. She is in my heart, which is much deeper. Sometimes I'm powerless. Sometimes she is only herself; nothing of me at all. Sometimes she tells me what to do and -- I must do it. She watches over me, reprimands me. Is honest, where I am dishonest. Ethical, where I am wicked as old sin. She lives her life; I live mine. She's raised a wall in my head between herself and me, and she lives there, ignoring me if I try to make her say improper things, but cooperating if I suggest the correct words and pantomime. So if you intend going on, I'm afraid Ria must be present. Oh, locking her up will do no good.

NARRATOR:

Lieutenant Krovitch sat quietly for a few moments. Then he seemed to make a decision.

MUSIC:

OUT

KROVITCH:

(EXHALES WEARILY, UNHAPPY) All right, all right, let her stay. Maybe

• maybe before the night's over, I'll be tired enough to ask even a ventriloquist's dummy questions.

MUSIC:

UP FOR FIRST ACT CURTAIN ... THEN IN BG

VOICE:

For SUSPENSE, Roma Wines are bringing you "Riabouchinska," Roma Wines' presentation tonight in Radio's Outstanding Theater of Thrills, SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

UP FOR TAG ... THEN OUT

ANNOUNCER:

SUSPENSE, Radio's Outstanding Theater of Thrills, is presented by Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines, selected from the world's greatest reserves of fine wines.

Some hosts have a way of making you feel completely welcome whenever you drop in for a visit. Theirs is the kind of hospitality that says, "Come in and make yourself at home." Well, such is the hospitality of millions of Americans who always keep Roma California Wines on hand. For Roma Wines lend sparkle and companionship to any occasion. And there's a Roma Wine to please every taste. For friendly entertaining, serve nut-like golden amber Roma Sherry, rich red Roma Port, or mellow flame-bright Roma Muscatel. You'll find that these better-tasting Roma Wines add warmth and charm to any get-together; brighten those restful stay-at-home evenings with your family. Tomorrow, solve your problem of what to serve when friends drop in, with Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines, America's largest-selling wines.

MUSIC:

THEME ... THEN IN BG--

VOICE:

And now Roma Wines bring back to our Hollywood sound stage Armina Fargay as Narrator, Joseph Kearns as Fabian the ventriloquist, and Wally Maher as Detective Krovitch in "Riabouchinska," a play well-calculated to keep you in--

MUSIC:

KNIFE CHORD

VOICE:

--SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

UP FOR A SECOND-ACT INTRODUCTION ... THEN OUT BEHIND--

SOUND:

KROVITCH'S BRIEF FOOTSTEPS

KROVITCH:

(SIGHS) Once more, Mr. Douglas, do you recognize the dead man?

DOUGLAS:

No. He looks somewhat familiar. An actor type, I believe.

KROVITCH:

One of you three is lying! (EXHALES) From the condition of Ockham's shoes, his worn clothing ---- he needed money. (TO DOUGLAS, SHARPLY) Are you in love with Mrs. Fabian?

DOUGLAS:

(TAKEN ABACK) Why, I--

ALYCE:

(INDIGNANT) Really, Lieutenant!

KROVITCH:

I've been watching you. Your actions.

ALYCE:

My actions?

KROVITCH:

Yes, yes. The way you look at Riabouchinska's box; the way you hold your breath when she appears; the way you knot your - your fingers when she talks. The way you stare at her!

ALYCE:

If you think for one moment that I'm jealous of a little piece of wood--!

KROVITCH:

Aren't you?

ALYCE:

No, I'm not jealous of her!

FABIAN:

You needn't tell him, Alyce.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

Let her!

NARRATOR:

They all stared at the figurine -- even Fabian the ventriloquist -- as if her cry had come from an alien throat.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(INSISTS) Alyce, tell them.

MUSIC:

BEHIND ALYCE--

ALYCE:

I - I married John seven years ago. He said he loved me. I loved him, and I loved Riabouchinska, too -- at first, anyway. But then I began to see that he really paid more attention to her than he did to me. I began to feel hatred -- not for Riabouchinska, because it wasn't her fault -- but I felt a terrible hatred for John, because I knew it was all his fault. His cleverness, his sadistic temperament-- Each jealousy on my part was a tribute to the perfection of his art! She came out of him like a woman out of a dark god. But I don't hate Ria. She's lovely, sweet and honest -- everything that John isn't.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

Tell about Mr. Douglas.

ALYCE:

When I got no understanding, no love from John, I turned to Mr. Douglas.

KROVITCH:

(THINKS HE'S SOLVED IT) Aha! The dead man was a blackmailer! He came to the theater tonight to see your husband about you. You killed him to prevent that interview.

ALYCE:

(WEARILY) I didn't kill him.

KROVITCH:

Douglas might have, and not told you.

DOUGLAS:

Why kill a man? John knew all about it.

FABIAN:

I did indeed. (LAUGHS)

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(LAUGHS)

MUSIC:

BRIDGE ... THEN IN BG--

SOUND:

KROVITCH'S STEPS THROUGH THEATER BEHIND--

NARRATOR:

The next day Lieutenant Krovitch was back.

SOUND:

KNOCK AT DRESSING ROOM DOOR

FABIAN:

(BEHIND DOOR) Yes? Come in.

SOUND:

DOOR OPENS ... KROVITCH'S STEPS IN

KROVITCH:

Ah, Fabian. I have something here which, er, might interest you.

SOUND:

DOOR CLOSES

NARRATOR:

With a tight grin on his face, Lieutenant Krovitch held out the photograph of a woman. Fabian stared at the shiny picture before him ---- and then he fell back in his chair. He shut his eyes as if with a great ache in his head. Krovitch turned the picture over carefully and began to read from the typewritten data on the back.

MUSIC:

OUT

KROVITCH:

Name, Ilya Riamansk. Weight, one hundred pounds; blue eyes, black hair,
oval face. Born 1914, New York City. Disappeared 1934. Believed a victim of amnesia. Of Russian-Slav parentage.

FABIAN:

Oh, no, no.

KROVITCH:

You know, Fabian, it was, uh, pretty silly to go through the files for a picture of a ventriloquist's dummy. They all laughed at headquarters. And yet-- Yet here she is. Riabouchinska -- not papier-mâché, not wood, not a puppet. But a woman who once lived, and moved about, and -- disappeared. Take it from there, Fabian.

FABIAN:

(DESPERATE, UNCONVINCING) Lieutenant, there's nothing to it. I - I saw her picture long ago, liked her looks, and copied my puppet after her.

KROVITCH:

Nothing to it, huh? Listen, Fabian, this morning I went through a stack of Billboard magazines that high. In the year 1934 I found an interesting article concerning an act playing the smaller circuits known as "Fabian and Sweet William." Sweet William was a little male dummy. As usual in such acts there was a girl assistant -- Ilya Riamansk. Look at that picture. (SOUND: MAGAZINE SLAPPED DOWN) The resemblance between the real woman on one hand and Riabouchinska the puppet on the other is startling.

FABIAN:

(CONCEDES) She was my assistant. (DESPERATE, UNCONVINCING) But that was all. I - I simply used her as a model.

KROVITCH:

It all starts and ends with Riabouchinska. Why should you love a puppet so intensely? Because you loved the original woman intensely!

FABIAN:

(GIVES IN) All right, all right!

MUSIC:

BRISK, SWIRLING ... FOR A FLASHBACK ... BEHIND FABIAN--

FABIAN:

In - in 1934 I was billed as "Fabian and Sweet William." Sweet William was a small bulb-nosed little boy dummy I carved years ago. I was playing Los Angeles when this girl, Ilya Riamansk, appeared at the stage door one night. She wanted a job. I remember, it was autumn.

MUSIC:

UP, FOR A BRIEF NOSTALGIC TRANSITION ... THEN BEHIND NARRATOR--

NARRATOR:

John Fabian remembered Ilya Riamansk in the half-light of the stage alley. He remembered how startled he was at her fresh beauty, her eagerness; the way the rain, when it came down through the narrow alley, caught in her dark hair and touched her feverish cheeks. She became his assistant, worked in the act, and in four short months, he who had always denied and scoffed at love became hopelessly lost with this woman. Then there were arguments, and things much more than arguments; things done and said that were violent and unfair. He wanted her to marry him; she never quite accepted. He went into hysterical rages at her. Once he destroyed her wardrobe. That much she had taken. But it was somewhat different on that last night when he had shouted at her, taken hold of her, and slapped her brutally three times across the face.

MUSIC:

UP, FOR A VIOLENT ACCENT ... THEN OUT BEHIND--

FABIAN:

(TO KROVITCH, SOMBERLY) And Ilya Riamansk vanished that night. Vanished. The police questioned me. There was talk of murder. But she was gone with no trace. A record of her was sent to all the larger cities. That was the end of it for the police. But not for me. The knowledge of her going was too much. She might be dead or just run away, but wherever she was, I knew I needed her. One night I returned home more depressed than usual. I collapsed on a chair. And before I knew it, I found myself speaking to Sweet William in the totally dark room.

MUSIC:

WEIRDLY HALF-EERIE, HALF-COMICAL ... IN BG, IN AGREEMENT WITH FOLLOWING--

FABIAN:

(IN DESPAIR) William, William -- oh, this is all over and done. I can't go on.

WILLIAM:

Coward! You can get her back -- if you want.

FABIAN:

No, I can't. No, I can never get her back.

WILLIAM:

Yes! Yes, you can! Think! Think of a way to get her back. Think of a way. Come on, you can do it! Put me away. Start all over.

FABIAN:

Start all over?

WILLIAM:

Yes. Begin carving -- exactly and slowly and lovingly. Carving. Make the little arching nostrils just so. And cut her black thin eyebrows round and high. And make her cheeks in small duplicate hollows. And--

FABIAN:

No! It's monstrous. I - I could never do it.

WILLIAM:

Yes! Yes, you could. Yes, you could. You could-- You could-- (FADES OUT)

NARRATOR:

And the voice faded away like a water ripple in a dark cave. Blackness rushed over Fabian. (FABIAN: WHIMPERS, IN BG) His head fell forward. He whimpered. And Sweet William sighed.

WILLIAM:

(LONG SIGH)

NARRATOR:

And then they both lay silent and solemnly unconscious.

MUSIC:

FOR FALLING UNCONSCIOUS ... THEN IN BG, IN AGREEMENT WITH FOLLOWING--

NARRATOR:

The next morning John Fabian purchased the best-grained piece of wood he could buy. But when he reached home, despair seized him. How could he fashion his warm Ilya from this cold wood? How could he shape this dumb block of dead substance into anything faintly approximating her glowing life?

WILLIAM:

Go on, go on.

NARRATOR:

It was Sweet William who egged him on.

WILLIAM:

You can do it!

NARRATOR:

And for twenty weeks he worked. He carved her hands into things as natural and beautiful as shells lying in the sun. And Sweet William lay dust-cloaked in his box, from time to time feebly croaking some sarcasm, some criticism, some hint, some help. But he was dying; soon to be untouched inanimate wood. As weeks passed and Fabian molded and scraped and polished the new wood, Sweet William lay longer and longer in stricken silence. And one day as Fabian held the puppet in his hand--

WILLIAM:

(GASPING GURGLING DEATH RATTLE BEHIND--)

NARRATOR:

--Sweet William seemed to look at him a moment with puzzled eyes. And then there was a death rattle in his throat.

WILLIAM:

(DYING WHIMPER)

FABIAN:

(EXHALES)

NARRATOR:

And Sweet William was gone.

MUSIC:

FOR WILLIAM'S DEATH ... THEN OUT

NARRATOR:

And now as Fabian carved, a fluttering, an attempting of speech in his throat began echoing, re-echoing the sounds of ---- Ilya Riamansk. At the year's ending he was thinned and without money, but by then he had searched his stream of consciousness, experimented, and given the doll all the gracious mannerisms and shy gestures of the real woman.

MUSIC:

SNEAKS IN ... CONTINUES IN BG

NARRATOR:

And then at last he held Ilya Riamansk in his arms again! They were together! He could talk to her and she could reply. And the first thing he made the little creature say was--

FABIAN:

(THROATY, DEEP, AWKWARD) I-- I-- (TRANSITIONS SEAMLESSLY TO--)

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(HIGH-PITCHED AND BEAUTIFUL) I love you, John Fabian.

FABIAN:

(WHISPERS PASSIONATELY) Oh, Ria!

MUSIC:

UP, FOR A HUGE ROMANTIC CURTAIN TO END THE FLASHBACK ... THEN OUT

KROVITCH:

(GRIMLY) I see. And your wife?

FABIAN:

(INDIFFERENTLY) Alyce? She was another of my assistants. She did her work well; she loved me. I don't know why I married her.

KROVITCH:

I see. What about the dead man -- Ockham?

FABIAN:

(LYING) I'd never seen him before until you showed me his body in the cellar.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(SIMPLY) That's not true. Don't lie, John Fabian.

MUSIC:

SOMBER, BEHIND NARRATOR--

NARRATOR:

Fabian's cheek strained white and the bones jutted out tensely. The puppet spoke, looking straight at Krovitch.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

John received the first blackmail letter a month ago. It said simply, "Riabouchinska, born Nineteen Fourteen; died Nineteen Thirty-Four; born again in Nineteen Thirty--" (CUT OFF SHARPLY)

FABIAN:

(CHOKES, GASPS, WHIMPERS ... CONTINUES IN BG)

MUSIC:

SOMBER, BEHIND NARRATOR--

NARRATOR:

Fabian seemed paralyzed, unable to answer. He had a trapped, helpless, insane expression. His lips trembled. He searched the room as if seeking some way out where a frustration and a truth did not wait to bar his way.

FABIAN:

(DESPERATELY CONFESSES) Ockham threatened to expose me to the world.

KROVITCH:

Go on.

FABIAN:

I wanted my love for Ilya kept to myself. What sort of a love would it be in the future if people really guessed the significance of my carving this figurine that talked and moved? People would laugh or be disgusted. "Perverted criminal mind," they'd shout, "Ugly! Horrible! Revolting!" And how could I play my love scenes with Ria any more when they knew? Not when, with every word I uttered, someone in the audience would nudge someone else and whisper, "She lived once, you know, but disappeared! They say he killed her. They say he loved her."

KROVITCH:

How much did Ockham want?

FABIAN:

A thousand dollars to start with. And more later.

KROVITCH:

And so you killed him.

FABIAN:

(LYING) No, I didn't kill Ockham, Lieutenant. I paid him one thousand dollars.

KROVITCH:

We found no money on him.

FABIAN:

Nevertheless, I paid him. Alyce and Douglas must have heard our conversation. They've wanted to be rid of me for years now; I'm not blind. Alyce saw a way of ridding herself of me and getting some money, too. Why, she's nothing but a--! (STOPS SHORT)

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(FIRMLY) Just a moment. There's something I wish to say. (IN DESPAIR) And yet I can't say it!

MUSIC:

DURING ABOVE, SNEAKS IN ... THEN BEHIND NARRATOR--

NARRATOR:

Krovitch turned. He saw John Fabian's eyes widen in his head as if a terrible conflict were raging, fighting within. His throat convulsed again and again, and lines cut deep in his cheeks, and the hollows of his face sank in.

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(WITH DIFFICULTY) I - I was in the room when Mr. Ockham came.

FABIAN:

(CHOKED) No! No, Ria!

RIABOUCHINSKA:

I lay in my box, and I listened, and I heard. And I know!

FABIAN:

No! No--

RIABOUCHINSKA:

Mr. Ockham threatened to destroy me -- tear me up, burn me into ashes -- if John didn't pay him a thousand dol-- (HER VOICE DEEPENS ON THIS LAST SYLLABLE)

FABIAN:

(COMPLETES HER SENTENCE) --lars! (GASPS)

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(DEEP VOICE, TRANSITIONS TO HIGH-PITCHED AGAIN ON THE WORD "THERE") And then suddenly there-- There came a falling sound. Mr. Ockham's head must have struck the floor. I heard Mr. Fabian cry out, swearing and sobbing all in one. I heard a hissing, gasping, choking, horrible--

FABIAN:

(DESPERATELY) You heard nothing! You're deaf and dumb and blind and lifeless! You heard nothing! Your ears are carved!

RIABOUCHINSKA:

But they hear! (BEAT) And then the hissing-- The hissing choking sound stopped. I heard John drag Mr. Ockham to the door, open it, and take Mr. Ockham down the stairs, under the theater, toward the old dressing room that hadn't been used in years. Down! Down, he took the body--!

MUSIC:

AGITATED ... TOPS HER ... THEN IN BG--

NARRATOR:

It was a scene so incongruous, so impossible, so completely beyond the veil of sanity and reason that Krovitch recoiled even as he watched. If ever in the time of the world the forces that manipulate men struggled one side against the other, this was the time. The shocked pallid face of John Fabian wrenching; the horrible protrusion of the eyes; the clenching of the teeth [?], then relaxing again; the subtle move of the throat and the high sad and accusative voice of Riabouchinska leaping from her tiny shining lips. Fabian must have known what was happening, and yet he did not know.

MUSIC:

CHANGES TO SADNESS BEHIND RIABOUCHINSKA--

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(SLOWLY, SADLY) I'm not made to live this way. There's nothing for us now, anyway, 'cause the world will know of us. Even when you killed him and I lay in my bronze box last night, I realized -- we both realized -- that these were our last hours. Because while I've accepted your weaknesses and lies, I can't exist in murder. It couldn't have gone on. No one can live side by side with such knowledge.

MUSIC:

OUT

RIABOUCHINSKA:

(WEEPING, WHICH TRANSITIONS SEAMLESSLY TO--)

FABIAN:

(COMPLETES HER WEEPING IN HIS OWN VOICE)

NARRATOR:

Fabian took her in his arms and held her high into the warm sunlight. She looked down at him with her clear honest way of seeing him. There were angry helpless tears in his eyes. His hand shook, and in shaking, made her tremble, too. Her mouth closed and opened -- silent, gaping and shutting, again and again, with no words.

MUSIC:

SAD ... SNEAKS IN ... THEN IN BG--

NARRATOR:

Fabian began to sob. He closed his fingers unbelievingly around his own throat. His eyes numbed. He looked like a man trying to remember something beautiful. Her voice! How it sounded! How - how to make it sound again! How to make her take back all she had said that was the truth!

FABIAN:

(WHIMPERS WEAKLY DURING ABOVE, THEN IN QUIET DESPAIR) No. She's gone. She's gone. And I can't find her. I try, but I can't find her. She's run off behind the dark wall. And so deep down and far away in the night, I'll never be able to find her again. Yes, she's gone.

NARRATOR:

Riabouchinska slipped bonelessly from his limp hand, folded over, and glided noiselessly down to lie upon the cold dirty floor.

MUSIC:

GENTLY OUT

NARRATOR:

Her eyes closed; her mouth gently sealed.

SOUND:

KROVITCH AND FABIAN'S FOOTSTEPS AWAY

NARRATOR:

Fabian didn't even look at her as Krovitch led him away.

MUSIC:

CURTAIN

VOICE:

SUSPENSE!

MUSIC:

KNIFE CHORD ... OUT AT [X]--

ANNOUNCER:

And so closes "Riabouchinska," starring Armina Fargay as Narrator, Joseph Kearns as Fabian, Wally Maher as Krovitch, and Lurene Tuttle as Ria, tonight's study in suspense, [X] presented by Roma Wines -- that's R-O-M-A, Roma Wines -- America's largest-selling wines.

Yes, more Americans do enjoy Roma Wines than any other wines. And this is Truman Bradley to tell you why. It's because Roma Wines taste better. You see, Roma selects and presses only the choicest California grapes. Then with ancient skills and unmatched wine-making resources, Roma master vintners guide this luscious grape treasure unhurriedly to tempting perfection. These finer Roma Wines are placed with other mellow Roma Wines to await later selection for your enjoyment from the world's greatest reserves of fine wines. This weekend, give your family and friends a surprise. Serve delicious Roma California Sherry. Roma Sherry is a glorious golden amber wine, soft and mellow on the tongue, with a delightful nut-like taste that's a perfect invitation to dining pleasure. And remember to insist on Roma -- that's R-O-M-A, Roma Sherry -- because more Americans enjoy Roma wines than any other wines.

VOICE:

Tonight's SUSPENSE radio play was by Mel Dinelli from a short story by Ray Bradbury. Be sure to listen next Thursday, same time, to--

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KNIFE CHORD ... OUT BEHIND--

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--SUSPENSE, produced and directed by William Spier for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California.

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THEME ... UNTIL END

VOICE:

This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System.