NARRATOR:
This is Orson Welles, speaking from London.
SOUND:
BIG BEN CHIMES ... OUT BEHIND--
NARRATOR:
The Black Museum -- a repository of death. Here in the grim stone structure on the Thames, which houses Scotland Yard, is a warehouse of homicide, where everyday objects -- a crumpled newspaper, a tin can of lighter fluid, a small radio -- all are touched by murder.
MUSIC:
BIG ACCENT!
NARRATOR:
A mandolin string. A familiar object.
MUSIC:
MANDOLIN STRINGS BRIEFLY PLUCKED
SERGEANT:
I am told, inspector, that mandolins are mighty popular with young folk these days.
INSPECTOR:
Popular? Yes, they are. And I'm rather happy to say their popularity is confined to music. Not to murder!
MUSIC:
BIG ACCENT!
NARRATOR:
Today this mandolin string can be found in the Black Museum.
MUSIC:
FANFARE ... THEN IN BG--
ANNOUNCER:
From the annals of the Criminal Investigation Department of the London Police, we bring you the dramatic stories of the crimes recorded by the objects in Scotland Yard's gallery of death, the Black Museum. In just a moment, you will hear THE BLACK MUSEUM, starring Orson Welles.
MUSIC:
MELODRAMATIC THEME ... FILLS A MINUTE-LONG PAUSE
ANNOUNCER:
Now, THE BLACK MUSEUM, starring Orson Welles.
MUSIC:
THEME ... THEN EERIE IN BG, OUT BEHIND WELLES--
SOUND:
HEAVY DOOR OPENS ... WELLES' STEPS IN AGREEMENT WITH FOLLOWING--
NARRATOR:
(ECHO) Well, here we are, in the Black Museum, Scotland Yard's museum of murder. Here lies death, arranged neatly on the shelves and tables open to your view. Now, here's a spoon. It's a simple household spoon. Our murderer was meticulous. With this he measured out a careful dose of poison. That oar up there on the wall; that was used by the stroke of a famous rowing aide at Henley. Later it was used in anger, swung at a man who stood on the edge of a pier, stunning him. The man drowned in the Thames very quickly. (ECHO OUT) Now, here we are -- the mandolin string. Just a coil of rust-spotted wire now. A string from a mandolin. A relic of another era: an era of polished carriages, well-groomed horses, simple sedate living, Edwardian England -- and Louise Evans.
MUSIC:
MANDOLIN PLAYED ... FADES IN DURING ABOVE, CONTINUES IN BG
STEWART:
Louise, my dear--?
LOUISE:
Shhhh. Stewart darling, I am playing for you.
NARRATOR:
(WITH SLY AMUSEMENT) In more ways than one she's playing for you, Stewart.
STEWART:
Louise, you've got to listen.
NARRATOR:
Go ahead, son. She'll listen. Just say the right words.
STEWART:
Louise, I love you. You-- You're adorable.
NARRATOR:
You're getting closer, Stewart. You're doing better now.
STEWART:
Louise, my darling, will you marry me?
NARRATOR:
At last. That's the way, Stewart.
MUSIC:
MANDOLIN HITS AN ODD NOTE AND STOPS
NARRATOR:
You see? I told you she was playing for you.
MUSIC:
TRANSITION ... THEN BEHIND NARRATOR--
NARRATOR:
The church organ, not Louise's mandolin, played them up the aisle that June. They were quite happy; quite domestic. Particularly on the quiet winter evenings.
SOUND:
RUSTLE OF NEWSPAPER
STEWART:
(GOOD-NATURED) You're looking very well tonight, Louise.
LOUISE:
Thank you, dear. (BEAT) Anything of interest in the newspaper, Stewart?
STEWART:
No. Nothing you'd want to know about.
LOUISE:
Oh, Stewart darling--?
STEWART:
(YES) Mm hm?
LOUISE:
(HESITANT) I wonder if you'd mind--
STEWART:
Something you want, Sweet?
LOUISE:
Well, Maisie's gone to her room. I hate to disturb her.
STEWART:
Let me get it for you, whatever it is.
LOUISE:
Thank you, dear. It's just that, eh--
STEWART:
Yes?
LOUISE:
Well, you may think it's a little odd, but-- Well, I, er-- I have this funny desire for a - a glass of wine.
STEWART:
Don't apologize, darling. There's nothing wrong in a glass of wine. Is there any in the pantry?
LOUISE:
Well, no, dear. That's just it. A trip down to the cellar--
STEWART:
Not another word. My pleasure is to serve you, my dear.
SOUND:
DURING ABOVE, RUSTLE OF NEWSPAPER SET ASIDE ... SCRAPE OF CHAIR AS STEWART RISES ... STEWART'S STEPS, IN BG
NARRATOR:
The husband gets up. He puts his newspaper aside, and leaves the room where his pretty young wife sits by the fireside. Walks down the hallway to the cellar entrance, pausing on the way to (SOUND: METAL CLANK! OF CANDLE PICKED UP) pick up a candle from the table by the stairs. (SOUND: MATCH STRUCK!) Lights the candle, opens the little doorway. The candle flickers, casting a fitful yellow light, darkening the shadows where its beams fail to penetrate. Stewart Mason starts down the stairs.
SOUND:
THREE OR FOUR STEPS DOWN STAIRS, STEWART STUMBLES AND FALLS NOISILY TO THE BOTTOM
STEWART:
(BLOODCURDLING SCREAM)
LOUISE:
(ALARMED) Stewart!
SOUND:
LOUISE'S HURRIED STEPS TO STAIRS
LOUISE:
Stewart?! Oh! (ANXIOUS) Stewart, answer me! (NO RESPONSE, CALLS) Maisie! Maisie, help me! Help!
MAISIE:
(APPROACHES) What--? What is it, madam? What is it?
LOUISE:
Go quickly! Run for Dr. Lipton.
MAISIE:
(EXHALED REACTION TO SIGHT OF BODY)
LOUISE:
Mr. Mason's fallen down the cellar stairs. He's - he's hurt. I'm afraid-- I'm afraid he's badly hurt.
MUSIC:
BRIEF TRANSITION
LOUISE:
(WEEPS)
DOCTOR:
It must be a terrible shock, Mrs. Mason, I know. If you take a sleeping powder--
LOUISE:
(TEARFUL) Oh, no, doctor. Oh, it was my fault. My silly wish for a glass of wine. If I hadn't asked him-- Oh, doctor, the least I can do is to face my grief. That's the least I can do for poor Stewart.
DOCTOR:
If you wish, Mrs. Mason. I understand. Death is a terrible thing. When it comes so suddenly to one so young, it is most terrible of all.
MUSIC:
ACCENT
NARRATOR:
Yes, it is terrible: a broken neck; falling down the cellar stairs by flickering candlelight on a simple and hardly necessary errand.
NELSON:
My dear, as a close friend of both your late husband and yourself, I feel justified in asking you to contain your grief. After all, you're young -- and, if I may say so, pretty.
LOUISE:
Nelson, you are sweet. I simply do not know how I would have lived through these long, long months without poor dear Stewart's friends. Particularly you.
NELSON:
This brings me to a point, my dear. (HESITANT) I-- I've meant to discuss it with you. I begin to feel something slightly more than respect for you, Louise. If I may take the liberty to-- (FADES OUT)
NARRATOR:
Nelson, watch your words. Look out, Nelson. A pretty blonde widow with wide blue eyes, so delicate and fragile. Watch your step.
LOUISE:
(FADES IN) --my loneliness in this house. At night the floors creak. They seem to try to speak with me. Maisie does her best, but it's still so - so-- Well, you know. You're lonely, too, aren't you?
NELSON:
I must confess, Louise, that I am. Now see here, young lady. We are going to start a new life for you.
LOUISE:
(LOVINGLY) Oh, Nelson.
MUSIC:
BRIEF ACCENT FOR TRANSITION
SOUND:
CLINKING! OF CUPS AND SAUCERS ... THEN IN AGREEMENT WITH FOLLOWING--
LOUISE:
Er, some cream for Mrs. Church, Maisie.
MAISIE:
Yes, madam.
MRS. CHURCH:
(BEAT, TO MAISIE) Oh, thank you. (TO LOUISE) You know, Louise, this is the nicest idea. Having coffee with our menfolk, I mean. I always hated the idea of the ladies withdrawing while the men had their port alone after dinner.
MR. CHURCH:
Well, I - I can't say I mind when our hostess is as lovely a bride as Louise, eh, Nelson? Do you agree, old man?
NELSON:
(LIGHTLY) Of course I agree. After all, I married her.
LOUISE:
(CHUCKLES) How you men do go on. Don't they, Alice?
MRS. CHURCH:
Let them, dear. It's one of their few pleasures.
NELSON:
I have another pleasure I want to share with you, Alice; Fred.
MRS. CHURCH:
Yes, Nelson?
NELSON:
Louise is an absolute talent with the mandolin.
LOUISE:
Oh, Nelson, please.
MR. CHURCH:
Mandolin? Yes, I seem to remember you played very well, Louise.
MRS. CHURCH:
Oh, do, Louise, please.
LOUISE:
(VERY HESITANT) Well, really, I-- Well-- My talent is so small.
SOUND:
SLIGHT PLUCK OF STRINGS AS MANDOLIN IS PICKED UP ... AND THEN HANDLED BEHIND--
NELSON:
Oh, we won't take no for an answer, darling. Here it is. Now what shall your first selection be?
MRS. CHURCH:
(GASPS) Oh, dear. One of the strings is missing.
MR. & MRS. CHURCH:
(DISAPPOINTED) Ohhh.
NELSON:
Missing?
LOUISE:
(IMPROVISING) Well, I - I was, er, er, tuning it yesterday. One of the strings broke. And I didn't get downtown to buy a new one. Oh, I am sorry. Truly I am. Perhaps next time you'll hear-- (FADES OUT)
NARRATOR:
Too bad. Really too bad. It would have been so nice. Recently married young lady with a gaily beribboned mandolin in her lap and in a lamp-lit room. It would have been so nice. In fact, as they prepared for sleep, Nelson Carter said just that.
NELSON:
(FADES IN) Too bad about your mandolin string, dear. It would have been so nice to hear you play tonight.
LOUISE:
(SHIVERS) Ooooh!
NELSON:
What is it, dear?
LOUISE:
Oooh, these sheets are icy. It must be really cold outside.
NELSON:
Well, Fred Church said it was.
LOUISE:
And you are so susceptible to colds. Darling, we've got to have a hot water bottle.
NELSON:
Well, ring for Maisie, why don't you?
LOUISE:
Well, she was exhausted, poor dear. She worked so hard cooking and serving dinner. It seems unfair to disturb her.
NELSON:
All right, I'll get it. Do you know where it is?
LOUISE:
(YES) Mm. In the kitchen cabinet, dear. Right in front.
NELSON:
All right. (MOVING OFF) I better take a candle.
LOUISE:
And use the back stairs, darling. It's shorter that way.
MUSIC:
QUIETLY OMINOUS ... THEN IN BG--
NARRATOR:
Once again a young man lights his way through a dark house toward a steep stairway by the flickering flame of a candle. Once again, a young man makes his way along a carpeted hallway. Starts a hurried descent of wooden stairs.
SOUND:
TWO OR THREE STEPS DOWN STAIRS, NELSON STUMBLES
NELSON:
(ANGUISHED CRY)
SOUND:
NELSON FALLS NOISILY TO THE BOTTOM
MUSIC:
UP FOR ACCENT!
LOUISE:
(CALLS) Nelson? (NO ANSWER) Nelson?! What happened?! (PAUSE, THEN BLOODCURDLING SCREAM)
MUSIC:
ACCENT!
SOUND:
BEDROOM DOOR CLOSES ... VOICES LOW
DOCTOR:
All right, Maisie, your mistress will rest now. I gave her a sedative.
MAISIE:
(WITH GREAT SYMPATHY) Oh, oh, poor woman. Oh, poor, poor child.
DOCTOR:
(QUIETLY DRY) Poor? This will be the second fortune she inherits. Hardly poor.
MAISIE:
Two accidents like that. Oh, doctor, it's like the poor girl was accursed.
DOCTOR:
Aye, it is. Well, things like this happen. As you say, two accidents and so much alike. I shall probably recommend that your mistress builds herself a new house with no cellar and all on one floor.
MAISIE:
Whatever for, sir?
DOCTOR:
No stairs, my girl.
MAISIE:
Aye?
DOCTOR:
No stairs for anyone to fall down and break his neck. Well, I'm on my way. No visitors allowed until tomorrow, Maisie. (CROSSFADES WITH FOLLOWING--)
NARRATOR:
No visitors. And no stairs in a new house. Well, perhaps. Certainly, for another year, at least, the mandolin will be silent. I think that that may be counted upon. That and the widow's weeds and the tearful glances from wide blue eyes. Of course, there was one item that no one counted on.
MUSIC:
BRIEF FURIOUS TRANSITION
SOUND:
OFFICE DOOR CLOSES
SERGEANT:
You, er, sent for me, inspector?
INSPECTOR:
I did, Peck. What do you think of this?
SOUND:
LETTER UNFOLDED
SERGEANT:
Ahhh. Hm, anonymous, eh?
INSPECTOR:
Yes. Read it, will you?
SERGEANT:
Er-- (READS) "Inspector Higley. Don't file this letter in the wastepaper basket."
INSPECTOR:
Mmm.
SERGEANT:
(READS) "I am not writing it without due thought and consideration. I cannot let you have my name as yet, but think of this: two young men of wealth and standing in the community have died via falls down stairs, with broken necks as the consequences. Don't you think at least a perfunctory investigation is called for? Don't you think so?" And it's signed, "An anxious friend."
INSPECTOR:
Yes. Well, sergeant?
SERGEANT:
Well-- Someone with an education wrote it.
INSPECTOR:
Someone who hints he or she will come forward if we find anything. "I cannot let you have my name -- yet."
SERGEANT:
Yes. I - I noticed that, sir.
INSPECTOR:
Well, sergeant, wear your best suit tomorrow. You and I are going calling on a young widow in Oxford Street. I understand she plays the mandolin. Rather well, in fact. Rather well.
MUSIC:
ACCENT!
NARRATOR:
Yes, she played rather well. And a string of that mandolin on which she played can be seen today in the Black Museum.
MUSIC:
FIRST ACT CURTAIN
ANNOUNCER:
In just a moment we will continue with THE BLACK MUSEUM, starring Orson Welles.
MUSIC:
FILLS A MINUTE-LONG PAUSE
ANNOUNCER:
And now we continue with THE BLACK MUSEUM, starring Orson Welles.
MUSIC:
SECOND ACT INTRODUCTION
NARRATOR:
Two young men dead, with broken necks. Both cases certified: accidental death. And then, an anonymous letter. Inspector Higley and Sergeant Peck paid their call. In fact, they paid two calls. The first on Dr. Lipton.
DOCTOR:
I'm rather glad you dropped in, inspector. I know there's been whispering. Two unfortunate accidents like this-- It would lead to rumors.
INSPECTOR:
Rumors? I see. Such as--?
DOCTOR:
The usual thing. That Stewart Evans and Nelson Carter may have been, er, er, helped to fall down the stairs.
INSPECTOR:
You mean pushed?
DOCTOR:
(YES) Mm. Something of the sort.
INSPECTOR:
And your opinion, doctor?
DOCTOR:
My opinion is certified on the death certificate, sir. Accidental deaths. Both of them.
INSPECTOR:
I see. Well, thank you, doctor. I'm glad you're so certain.
NARRATOR:
Yes, the good doctor appears quite certain. Nonetheless, Inspector Higley and Sergeant Peck made their second visit.
LOUISE:
Oh, I'm so glad you came to see me, inspector.
INSPECTOR:
Thank you. It's not too often that the police are welcome.
LOUISE:
Oh, I - I suppose not, but-- Well, I - I can't help hearing about the things that people are saying. Maisie brings home so many odd tales.
INSPECTOR:
I was wondering, Mrs.--
MUSIC:
PLUCKED MANDOLIN STRINGS
LOUISE:
(STARTLED GASP!)
INSPECTOR:
(LIGHTLY REPROVING) Sergeant? Interested in music?
SERGEANT:
(SHEEPISH) Er-- Quite a good-looking instrument, ma'am. Hmm.
LOUISE:
I shall never play it again.
INSPECTOR:
Oh? Why not?
LOUISE:
Both Nelson and Stewart loved the music. I - I cannot get over the fact that I took a mean excuse and refused to play the night that - that Nelson died.
INSPECTOR:
Oh? An excuse?
LOUISE:
Yes. You see, the Churches -- Alice and Fred -- were here.
INSPECTOR:
I see.
LOUISE:
Nelson was pressing me to play. I - I refused.
INSPECTOR:
Uh huh.
LOUISE:
I - I used a missing string as an excuse -- when I had a stock of strings on hand and could have replaced the missing one. I refused Nelson that last pleasure.
INSPECTOR:
Tell me, do you always keep a stock of mandolin strings on hand, ma'am?
LOUISE:
Yes, in the cold weather I do.
INSPECTOR:
I see.
LOUISE:
When the temperature drops, the strings seem to get brittle.
INSPECTOR:
Quite.
LOUISE:
They break quite easily.
INSPECTOR:
And, er, where do you buy your mandolin strings, Mrs. Carter?
LOUISE:
At Murchison's Music Shop on High Street. (PLEADING) Oh, inspector--?
INSPECTOR:
Yes?
LOUISE:
Sergeant? I appeal to you as men of the world. Can't you help me scotch these dreadful things that people are saying? Can you? Would you? Please?
MUSIC:
ACCENT!
NARRATOR:
The inspector and the sergeant said they'd try, and they did. Their business was facts. One fact turned up immediately upon their contact with Mr. Murchison of the music shop on High Street.
SERGEANT:
He showed me the bill of sale, inspector.
INSPECTOR:
Uh huh?
SERGEANT:
She bought the strings. Sent the maid for 'em with a written order. Three days after this Carter fellow was buried.
INSPECTOR:
Hmm. Interesting. Now why would a woman who says she had a stock of strings on hand the night her husband died -- and says further that she'll never play again -- buy mandolin strings shortly after the funeral?
NARRATOR:
An interesting contradiction in dates and actions. A further interesting contradiction came to light some three months later.
INSPECTOR:
Another of those anonymous letters, sergeant. Just, "She's playing that mandolin again." I seem to remember, sergeant, that Mrs. Carter told us she'd never touch the instrument again.
NARRATOR:
Such contradictory behavior seemed to indicate another call. The inspector dropped in on Louise Evans Carter and her mandolin.
MUSIC:
ACCENT!
LOUISE:
(WINNINGLY) Inspector Higley. How nice. All right, Maisie.
MAISIE:
(WITHDRAWING) Yes, madam.
LOUISE:
(AN INTRODUCTION) Inspector, my friend, Clifford West.
INSPECTOR:
How do you do?
CLIFFORD:
How do you do?
LOUISE:
Inspector, I'm afraid you've caught me in a fib. Is that very bad?
CLIFFORD:
A fib? Well, it couldn't be bad. Not from you, Louise.
INSPECTOR:
I don't quite follow, Mrs. Carter.
LOUISE:
(CHUCKLES) I told you some time ago I'd never play my mandolin again. And you've heard me playing.
INSPECTOR:
Yes, so you did, and so I have. But there must be a good reason, I assume.
LOUISE:
Oh, but there is. You tell him, Clifford dear.
CLIFFORD:
Well, as it happens, sir, we are both very, very happy -- and music seemed extremely apropos. You see, sir, Mrs. Carter -- Louise -- has just done me the honor to consent to be my wife.
MUSIC:
ACCENT!
NARRATOR:
Number three. The inspector sensed the tension in Midhaven. He waited; all of Midhaven seemed to be waiting with him. The first action came from an unexpected quarter.
SOUND:
OFFICE DOOR CLOSES SHARPLY
CLIFFORD:
(AGITATED) Inspector Higley, I demand you trace this letter for me at once!
INSPECTOR:
May I see your letter, sir?
CLIFFORD:
Here.
INSPECTOR:
I see. (READS) "Mr. West, two men have died with broken necks. Are you the third? Are you entering the den of the tigress?" (TO CLIFFORD) Tracing a letter like this is not the easiest-- (FADES OUT)
NARRATOR:
There's no question in the inspector's mind that the author of Clifford West's letter was the same party who'd written the two notes addressed to the inspector himself. A brief comparison of the handwriting removed what little doubt the inspector had. And Sergeant Peck dropped in on the small Midhaven Post Office.
SOUND:
MURMUR OF POST OFFICE CROWD ... THEN IN BG
SERGEANT:
This your postmark?
CLERK:
That's right, sir. Of course, it is.
SERGEANT:
Ever seen this envelope before?
CLERK:
Maybe, maybe not. Seen hundreds like it. You can buy that cheap kind in any stationary shop in Midhaven.
MUSIC:
ACCENT
SERGEANT:
Blank, inspector. Nothing.
INSPECTOR:
I expected as much.
SERGEANT:
Do you think that West fellow will be scared off, sir?
INSPECTOR:
I doubt it. Sergeant, take this copy over to the Midhaven Gazette, will you? I want it run in every edition for a week.
SERGEANT:
Ah. (GLANCES AT COPY, THEN--) Think you'll get an answer, sir?
INSPECTOR:
Well, remember the first letter? "I cannot let you have my name as yet."
SERGEANT:
Uh huh.
INSPECTOR:
Perhaps the party concerned will feel now is the time to reveal himself -- or herself, as the case may be. That promise of absolute privacy may do the trick.
MUSIC:
ACCENT
MRS. CHURCH:
I saw your advertisement, inspector. I came. I hope you can protect me if I'm wrong. I hope I'm wrong. I sincerely do hope so.
INSPECTOR:
Your confidence will be respected, Mrs. Church.
MRS. CHURCH:
Thank you, sir. I - I trust you don't feel there's any jealousy involved of any kind.
INSPECTOR:
My job is facts, ma'am. Do you have any?
MRS. CHURCH:
I don't know. You see, Stewart and Nelson both were young men of whom my husband and I were very fond.
INSPECTOR:
Uh huh.
MRS. CHURCH:
And I-- Well, I remember so distinctly how disturbed Louise seemed when we asked her to play that night. She seemed upset over our discovery of the missing string on that mandolin. I, er-- I guess that's all, inspector.
INSPECTOR:
That's not very much, is it?
MRS. CHURCH:
No. No, it's not. But it seemed so peculiar. And the mandolin-- Always that mandolin. Inspector, how could a mandolin be used to kill anyone?
INSPECTOR:
I don't know yet even if anyone was killed. However, I'd like to find out. Mrs. Church, have you any idea of Mrs. Carter's social engagements? I mean, when for instance, is she probably out of her house for a length of time? If you can advise us as to any such matter-- (FADES OUT)
NARRATOR:
It seems Mrs. Carter attended the Ladies Auxiliary of the local church each Wednesday afternoon, an activity a respectable young widow would be expected to enjoy. And it was Wednesday afternoon when the inspector and the sergeant called.
MAISIE:
The mistress isn't in, sir.
INSPECTOR:
I doubt if she'll be too long. May we wait?
MAISIE:
If you wish to, sir.
NARRATOR:
The inspector went into the sitting room. The sergeant drifted toward the kitchen. Maisie, safely occupied by the good sergeant, Inspector Higley swiftly found the cellar stairs-- (SOUND: INSPECTOR'S STEPS IN AGREEMENT WITH FOLLOWING--) --carefully moved down, examining inspecting each step, each lift and tread, each section of the baseboard. Half-way down--
INSPECTOR:
(TO HIMSELF) Well, interesting, to say the least.
NARRATOR:
Upstairs, now to the back stairway. Again, the careful examination. Again, about half-way down--
INSPECTOR:
(TO HIMSELF) They'll do it every time. Every single time.
NARRATOR:
Then quietly into the kitchen.
SOUND:
KITCHEN DOOR OPENS
INSPECTOR:
Sergeant?
SERGEANT:
Ah, yes, sir?
INSPECTOR:
I don't think we'll wait any longer.
MAISIE:
I'm sorry, sir. The mistress went along to the vestry and she ought to be here any--
INSPECTOR:
(INTERRUPTS) Oh, that's all right. Just tell her we called, will you? Come along, sergeant. (MOVING OFF) We'll drop back another time.
NARRATOR:
And the two policemen left the house to return to the inspector's office.
INSPECTOR:
It's something, sergeant. Not much, but something.
SERGEANT:
It convinces me, sir.
INSPECTOR:
And me. But how about a jury?
SERGEANT:
I don't know, sir. Of course, if we had a bit more. The nails themselves, sir.
INSPECTOR:
Yes.
SERGEANT:
And then there's the business of buying that stock of mandolin strings.
INSPECTOR:
Sergeant, we'll drop in on Mrs. Carter this evening. Do you by any chance play the mandolin?
MUSIC:
TRANSITION
LOUISE:
It was nice of you to come back so soon, inspector. I - I do hope you've been able to help me with all that mean whispering I told you about.
INSPECTOR:
I wish we could, ma'am; I wish we could. Did I tell you that Sergeant Peck is interested in the mandolin?
LOUISE:
Why, no, you didn't.
SERGEANT:
Er, may I, ma'am?
LOUISE:
Certainly.
MUSIC:
MANDOLIN ... THE "A" STRING PLUCKED REPEATEDLY AND INSISTENTLY ... THEN IN BG, FOR AN ANNOYINGLY REPETITIVE EFFECT
SERGEANT:
Yes, a lovely tone, ma'am.
LOUISE:
Yes, it has.
INSPECTOR:
Quite a romantic instrument, I believe.
LOUISE:
It goes back to the troubadours in France, centuries ago.
INSPECTOR:
Yes, I've heard. It certainly had its place in your life, Mrs. Carter.
LOUISE:
Yes, I - I dare say it has.
INSPECTOR:
I've been wondering about something, Mrs. Carter. I hope you can help me.
LOUISE:
If I can, I will, of course.
INSPECTOR:
We checked with Mr. Murchison at his music shop.
LOUISE:
Oh?
INSPECTOR:
Yes. He tells us you purchased a stock of strings shortly after Mr. Carter's death, not just before, as you told us.
LOUISE:
(INCREASINGLY FLUSTERED) Well then-- Then I - I - I - I'd forgotten the exact date.
INSPECTOR:
It seems rather peculiar that you should forget that, after you'd made such a point of it to us.
LOUISE:
Well, I - I was under a terrible strain. I'm sure-- (BREATHES HEAVILY, UNNERVED; SHE EXPLODES) If you'd stop plucking that "A" string, sergeant--! My nerves--!
MUSIC:
PLUCKING STOPS AS "A" STRING BREAKS!
SERGEANT:
(GOOD-NATURED) Oh, I - I - I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to break it. I'll get you a new one.
LOUISE:
(STILL NERVOUS) That - that won't be necessary, sergeant. I - I have extras. Right here in this drawer.
SOUND:
DESK DRAWER SLIDES OPEN
LOUISE:
Er, er, that was the "A" string, wasn't it?
INSPECTOR:
I'm rather surprised, Mrs. Carter. A woman of your obvious means keeping nails -- and bent ones at that -- in a drawer of a desk in her sitting room.
LOUISE:
I forgot to throw them away.
INSPECTOR:
Yes, I dare say you did. May I have them please?
LOUISE:
But-- No, leave them alone.
INSPECTOR:
(TRIUMPHANT) I dare say also that they'll fit exactly into certain holes in the baseboards of your cellar and back stairs, just above the steps where someone unsuspecting would trip over tightly stretched mandolin strings stretched between two nails -- like these, Mrs. Carter! (BEAT, BRISK) You're taken and charged, madam. The charge is willful murder of your two husbands. I must warn you that anything you may say may be taken down in writing and--
MUSIC:
ACCENT!
NARRATOR:
And so, once and for all, the mandolin string was silenced. It can be seen today in the Black Museum.
MUSIC:
ACCENT
ANNOUNCER:
Orson Welles will be back with you in just a moment.
MUSIC:
FILLS A MINUTE-LONG PAUSE
ANNOUNCER:
Now, here, in person, is Orson Welles.
NARRATOR:
Louise Evans Mason Carter was tried for murder. The police stated facts and produced evidence. But Louise wept and lifted those blue eyes of hers to heaven, and the jury disagreed, and she was not convicted. Not in court, but she was convicted by her neighbors and by her friends. They knew. And so Louise Evans Mason Carter moved away, (ECHO) far north, to Scotland, alone. And there she died, some twenty years later. Still alone. And now, until next time, till we meet in this same place and I tell you another story of the Black Museum, I remain as always, obediently yours.
SOUND:
ECHOING STEPS TO HEAVY DOOR, WHICH OPENS AND SHUTS
MUSIC:
ACCENT ... THEN OUT BEHIND--
ANNOUNCER:
THE BLACK MUSEUM, starring Orson Welles, is presented by arrangement with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Radio Attractions. The program is written by Ira Marion, with original music composed and conducted by Sidney Torch. Produced by Harry Alan Towers.
MUSIC:
FOR A MINUTE-LONG CURTAIN