
The Great Detectives of Old Time Radio| Daily Mystery Dramas· Staffel 17· Folge 325
The Saint: Simon Takes a Curtain Call (EP5086)
Montag, 19. Oktober 2026 · 34 min
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Shownotes
Today's Mystery: Simon Templar investigates a disturbing situation in the theater world when actor Mercer Bennett becomes convinced that the roles he plays onstage are coming true in real life. His latest play features the murder of his leading lady, Shari Babcock, and a previous attempt involving real bullets has left him fearing the worst. With several people harboring grudges and the final performance approaching, can the Saint uncover the truth before the curtain falls on a real-life tragedy?
Original Radio Broadcast Date: January 14, 1951
Originating from Hollywood
Cast:
• Vincent Price as Simon Templar
• Theodore von Eltz as Mercer Bennett
• Mary Shipp as Shari Babcock
• Ed Begley as Stuart Jackson
• Maggie Morley as Lola Enright
• Stanley Farrar as Arnold Prince
• Bob Clark as Charlie Glenway
• Harry Brown as the doorman
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THE END.
Welcome to the Great Detectives of Old Time Radio from Boise, Idaho. This is your host, Adam Graham. In a moment, we're going to bring you this week's episode of The Saint. But first, I want to encourage you, if you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software. And today's program is brought to you in part by the financial support of our listeners. You can support the show on a one-time basis, support.greatdetectives.net, and become one of our ongoing Patreon supporters for as little as $ 2 per month at patreon.greatdetectives.net. Now, from January 14th, 1951, here is Simon Takes a Curtain Call.
The Adventures of the Saint, starring Vincent Price. The Saint, based on characters created by Leslie Travers, and known to millions from books, magazines, and motion pictures. The Robin Hood of modern crime now comes transcribed to radio, starring Hollywood's brilliant and talented actor, Vincent Price, as.
The saint.
They say each man kills the thing he loves. And so I have killed you, my love. But the cruel, merciful knife which parts our flesh shall bring us yet together in a together which is forever.
I am ready, officer. Pardon me, but where may I wait for Mr. Bennett? Well, he's still on stage taking vows.
Yes, I know.
I was in the audience. My name is Templer.
Oh, yes, Mr. Templer.
He's expecting you.
You can wait in his dressing room.
It's right down the hall there. First on the right. The one with all the flowers on it. Thank you. Thank you. Well, thank you. Thank you.
Thank you, darling.
Did you really, did you? I enjoyed it.
Thank you.
See you shortly.
Merci.
Come in, my dear. Ah, you were sweet, dear, but... Oh, hello, Mercer. Congratulations.
Simon Templer, how perfectly wonderful of you to come. As I was saying, my dear Shari, you were sweet and utterly charming throughout, but never, never cross in front of me.
Never.
Yes, Mercer, I'll remember. And you are magnificent.
Thank you, thank you. Oh, oh, Shari, this is my old friend, Simon Templer. Templer, Shari Babcock, my leading lady.
How do you do?
How do you do?
Go change, my dear. I'll meet you shortly.
Of course, Mercer. Goodbye, Mr.
Templer.
Goodbye, Miss Babcock. Well, your taste is still excellent, Mercer.
I pick my leaves on her acting ability alone, Templer. Now, why I sent for you... By the way, what did you think of the play?
Well, it was.
Yes, I know, I know. I took only five curtain calls, an ominous sign. For me, practically a curtsy. Oh, writers. Why, Templer, why don't they have writers like Shakespeare around these days?
It's a plot against actors. I believe you.
Well, perhaps the Bennet name will carry this thing along for a season, but it will be a strain.
Mercer, why did you send for me? Oh... Sit down, Templer, while I remove my makeup. I am sitting down. Well, then stand up. No, no, no, don't.
I hate to talk off to someone. I don't work well that way at all. Templer, I'm afraid of this play.
It scares me, too. No, no, no, not that way.
Templer, I've begun to notice a peculiar relationship between Mercer Bennett and his roles.
Now, you'll think this a bit eccentric of me, perhaps, but it's true. Templer. I'm living my roles. No.
Wait, let me tell you. I don't know what it is. Perhaps I put too much of myself into a part, but the roles I portray on the stage, I also portray in real life.
For example?
For example, in Time Waits for Tomorrow, I played an actor who marries his leading lady.
I married my leading lady. Astonishing.
Wait, wait.
In Crossroads of the World, I played a singer who marries the ingenue.
I married the ingenue. Laugh that off. I don't have to. I didn't marry her. You did. Yes. But I could go on, Templer. This thing has been plaguing me for years.
I have a feeling of fatalism about any role I undertake that it can't help being realized offstage.
Why get excited about it now?
Because, Templer, because in this play, I not only fall in love with my leading lady.
But I kill her. Well, has the first part come true?
Well, one might say so, yes. She's utterly infatuated with me, of course. And she's a charming thing.
I see. And you're afraid you're going to kill her? Deathly afraid. Well, it's been nice seeing you again, Mercer. Wait, wait, don't go.
I'm not just imagining things. The way the part was originally written, I shot Shari. But in our tryout in Boston, the prop man discovered that someone had.
Put real bullets in the gun. Are you sure? Of course I am.
That's why I had it rewritten to a knife. We use a rubber blade, of course.
Of course. And you have no idea who put those bullets in the gun? None. It could have been anyone. Even you?
That's what haunts me about this whole business, Templer. Could I have done it and not know it? Could I do it again?
Oh, you've got to help me, Simon. All right, I'll do what I can. But it might not be much. Oh, I'd appreciate it, Simon. I'd appreciate it immensely. And when we have the theater... Please, no tears. Where should I start?
My agent and business manager will tell you whom to see and take you around.
Stuart Jackson. Low fellow. Well, I'll see him in the morning. I'm deeply grateful, Simon. Why, I hardly dare look at the girl. I avoid her. I... Mercy?
Daddy?
Coming, shorty darling, coming. Well, you see, I... Yes, I know. The show must go on. See you tomorrow, Mercy.
Mighty nice of you to take this on for us, Mr.
Templer.
I know it's been working on Mercer.
What do you think of this, Jackson, this idea that Bennett has about his roles coming true?
Well, I've represented a lot of actors, Mr. Templer, and they're screwy, every one of them. And I'm not sure Mercer Bennett's not the screwiest of the lot, but he's a great actor.
You think this whole thing is about nothing? I didn't say that.
It may be all in the head, but what's in the head gives plenty of trouble.
You know what I mean?
I know what you mean.
And after the notices on the play this morning, he'll be screwier than ever.
Not good.
From Stinkville. And he needed the dough, too.
I thought Bennett had plenty. Paying alimony to four wives? Nobody's got that much dough. Well, the first one Bennett wants you to talk to is Lola Enright.
She was his first wife.
We're not going to talk to all four. Lola is the only one in town. Kind of an old lush, but a good kid. She used to be quite an actress. Well, let's go collect her autograph.
Good morning, Lola.
Can we come in?
Why, Mr. Jackson, do come in. I hope you'll excuse my disability. Just reading over a frightful stack of plays they're begging me to do. Rightly wearing, finding a vehicle.
Skip it, Lola.
This isn't the producer. This is Simon Templer, the saint.
Why don't you say so? How do you do, Mr. Templer?
Sit down. Thank you, Miss Enright. I've enjoyed your performances many times.
Must be older than you look. What's up, boys?
Mr.
Templer would like to ask you a few questions, Lola, about Mercer.
Well, if you're going to talk about him, I've got to be fortified. Excuse me.
Mr.
Templer, have you ever met my friend?
Huh?
Oh, yes, yes, I have.
Oh, good.
Then I don't have to introduce you. How about joining us?
Well, I'm very fond of your friend, but not this early in the morning... About Mercer Bennett, Miss Enright.
What about him?
Well, very briefly, he has a fixation about roles he plays on the stage and acting themselves in real life. And in his latest play, he kills his leading lady.
Tell him not to worry. That turkey won't run long enough for him to step on an ant.
Something has occurred, however, to indicate that this isn't all imagination. You know anyone bearing any ill will against Bennett, Miss Enright?
Sure I do. Anybody that knows him.
Oh? Well, how about you, if I may be blunt?
You mean, would I kill his leading lady and frame him with a murder? Um, let me think it over, Simon. Sure you don't want to say hello to my pal here?
No, no thanks.
Well, I do. Mercer Bennett.
The problem being, would I like to see him accused of murdering his latest love?
Well, I might. I very well might. Anything else I can do for you, Simon? Play Camille?
Butch candy between acts? Tour with the South Pacific Company of South Pacific?
If anything comes up, Lola, I'll let you know.
You're a nice boy, Simon.
I'll give you a tip. Never be seen in public with agents.
So long, Jackson. Here's to crime, Simon.
Happy days, Lola.
Yeah?
Happy days.
Well, what's the next port of call, Jackson?
Arnold Prince, Mr.
Templer. Broker, he says.
Also has a wad of dough on the show.
Oh, yes, you told me.
Here's his office here.
No secretary. Guess we go right on in, huh? Guess so.
Morning, Mr.
Prince. You busy?
Hello, Jackson.
Have you seen the notices?
Did you see those horrible, terrible... Mr. Prince, this is Mr. Templer.
Simon Templer. He wants to ask a couple of questions.
Why?
Because I think a crime may be committed, Mr. Prince, and I'm trying to prevent it. You're too late.
The crime happened last night when three sixes of 17 opened.
Yes, I can understand your point of view. Tell me, Mr. Prince... What was your reason for putting money into the show? The play itself? I'll tell you.
The reason was Shari Babcock. I was made a fool of. Shari was your girl? If I hadn't thought so, I wouldn't have put a cent into this egg. I couldn't afford the money.
Do you hold any animosity toward Shari or Bennett? Toward both of them. How much animosity? Just this, Mr. Templer.
I have a reputation for being a man it isn't.
Safe to make a fool of. Do I make myself clear? I think so. Good. Good day, gentlemen. Oh, just one more question. Are you what they call an angel, Mr. Prince?
An angel?
You needn't answer that. Good day.
This is Shari Babcock's apartment, Mr.
Templer.
I hope you don't mind if I let you go in alone.
I shudder at the thought. Yeah.
Well, being Mercer's business manager and agent, both I ain't got a lot of details to look after. He wanted you to talk to Charlie Glenway. He's the author of this bomb. But if you talk to.
Shari long enough, Charlie will be along. Get what I mean?
I get what you mean.
See you later, Mr.
Templer. Good morning, Miss Babcock. I don't know if you remember me, but I'm.
How could I forget? Won't you come in, Mr. Templer? Simon.
Oh, thank you, Shari.
Have you seen the notices?
Yes.
Well, it was to be expected, of course. Charlie's a nice boy, but just not a writer. Just not a writer.
Shari, are you aware of the fact that as long as this play runs, you may be in considerable danger?
Terribly exciting, isn't it?
Huh?
You're not frightened?
But that's theater, Simon, dear. Actors living their roles, the excitement of opening night, the smell of grease paint.
Shari, Shari, let's not do the grease paint in the veins bit, huh?
Of course.
You know about what happened in Boston?
The real bullets instead of the blanks? Wouldn't it be fascinating if darling old Mercer had actually done it himself? I mean conscious love, but subconscious hate. Fascinating, like Ibsen.
Look, Hedda Gabler, did it ever occur to you that... Shari, you seen the reviews?
Knock, Charles, darling, knock. Simon Templer, this is Charles Glenway, our author.
The rats desert the sinking ship. He thought the play was pretty hot stuff this time yesterday, Shari.
Oh, how are you, Templer? Thank you.
Don't be rude, Charlie. And if one simply isn't a playwright, one should face it.
Quote, Mercer Bennett, unquote. It was a play before he got hold of it. Him and his rewrites. Of course it ended up garbage. It was bound to.
Oh, speaking of rewrites, Charles, darling, I've got some ideas about the second act. My lines simply have to.
Be fixed, you know.
Your lines have to be fixed? Well, you certainly fixed them last night, all right. Why don't you get that dramatic school mush out of your mouth and talk? You think it improves things if nobody can hear you?
In this case, yes.
Am I intruding on anything?
All right, all right.
We won't fight, Shari. I don't want to.
Fine, darling.
And you will rewrite my lines in the second act?
No.
Yes.
I'll keep score for you. Who is this guy, anyway? Another Arnold Prince?
I was never anything to Arnold Prince, but nice to him, so he'd put up the money for your show.
How nice were you?
Glenway, I hate you.
Charlie, darling.
Mercy, sweet.
Oh, Glenway.
And Templer.
Sorry, old man. Shall I leave?
Not at all, not at all. I mean, don't rush off. About the notices, Shari, darling, disregard them. Of course, the play is bad. The thing to remember is that I have carried worse.
Plays than this. You were younger then.
Jealousy rearing its juvenile head. But it's a good thing you're here, Glenway. There's a lot of rewriting and fixing to be done. And you might possibly be of some help to me.
I have an earth-shaking suggestion. Why not just do the play as it was written in the first place?
You're questioning my knowledge of the theater. I think you're over the hill, Jack.
Pay no attention to this scribbler, Mercer.
I find your conduct unprofessional, Glenway.
And I find your conduct unbecoming to your fellow members in the Townsend Club, Bennett.
Hands. What did you say, Templer? I have been up since dawn trying to prevent a murder about which I now feel almost indifferent. I have foregone my breakfast, but I find myself unable and unwilling to do so another second. If anyone wants me, I should be in the restaurant on the corner, saving a life near and dear to me, my own. Farewell, Vespians. Mr. Templer.
Mr.
Templer.
Oh, sit down, Mr. Jackson. Sit down. But I warn you, if you interfere with my eggs benedict with Tabasco sauce, you're a dead man. Mercer phoned me that you were here, Mr. Templer.
He wants you to come to the play tonight.
I have seen the play. And every horrible detail is etched with acid on the dark mirror of my mind. You know, you talk just like Mercer. It must be contagious. Oh, we just got word, Mr. Templer. The play's closing tonight. A two-day run. Just ahead of the lynch mob. Do you carry insurance on your client, Mr. Jackson?
Sure.
Then put him in another disaster like this and he'll need it.
But what I wanted to tell you, Mr.
Templer, was this.
Mercer's worried about the prophecy, or whatever you want to call it.
He's afraid that something will happen to Shari.
And tonight's the last night for it to happen.
You'll be there, Mr. Templer.
Against my complete better judgment, my appreciation of the aesthetic, and in utter disregard of my sanity, I shall be there.
Hello, Mr.
Templer. Oh, hi, Charlie. Where have you been, huh?
Out front.
Everything all right back here, Mr. Templer? It's all quiet so far. This is the final scene. death scene. He plays the violin to her before he stabs her. You think the audience is buying it, Mr. Templer? Well, they haven't stormed the stage as yet. It's not a bad play, or it wasn't at first. It's Bennett in the rewrites.
Now it's all hash. How do you like Shari? As an actress? Promising. A bit theatrical, but she should have a good career ahead of her. If nothing happens. Nothing will happen. The There's Prince backstage. I don't like that. I'll keep an eye on him. And there's Lola, too. She's... I know. She's Bennett's first wife. She's bitter because he hasn't paid her alimony for years.
Look, look.
They're going into the death scene. Yeah, I'm watching, Charlie. Don't let anything happen to her, Mr. Templer. Charlie, hey, what's that on the prop table, huh? A knife. Well, it's not a real one. It's like the one Bennett stabbed Shari with, a rubber blade. But if that knife is here, what has Bennett got? What? Well, I don't know. Templer, I.
Shari!
Shari, look out!
Ah! Hey, quick!
The curtain!
Pull down the curtain, quick!
Shari!
Shari! Shari, are you hurt? What happened, Bennett? I don't know. I started to stab her like I always do, and blood came. I had the wrong knife. Let me temple her. Shari. Shari, baby. How bad is it?
Get a doctor, somebody.
No, no, no doctors to spoil our last moment, Charles. Just you and me.
Oh, it will always be you and me, Shari.
Always. No, no.
The realization came too late. The bloom withers in the bud. It's fragrant, secret, forever.
Shari. Next week, East Lynn. Simon. Yes, Bennett? How bad is it, Simon? Is it fatal? Tell me, Simon. I can take it. Well, the doctor said he had great difficulty finding the scratch. Scratch? Yes, it was a very minor flesh wound. Shari just couldn't resist playing a deathbed scene. You've got her well trained.
Templer, do you realize what this will do for three sixes or 17?
No, what?
Publicity. Reams of publicity. The show will run for months. Where is she? Oh, she's in her dressing room. Come on. on. Sorry.
Mercer, you've come to say farewell to me.
Get up, you love-sick ingenue. Put a bandage on that scratch. You've got a show to do tomorrow.
But, Mercer, I'm dying.
You couldn't be killed with a meat hat. Wait a minute, Bennett. That's no way.
And I want to see you about some rewrites, Glenway, as soon as I talk to the press. We're not closing.
Mercer, you are closing. What? Whether you like it or not, someone tried to kill Shari tonight, and if the police had to pick a suspect, they would undoubtedly pick you. Yes, yes, perhaps they would.
Perhaps they might even be right.
Say nothing about this stabbing to anyone. Run one more night, tomorrow night, and let everyone know the closing is definite after that, huh?
Why?
Why one more night? We've got one more night in which to catch a potential killer. See that everyone backstage tonight is here tomorrow. Lola, Prince, Jackson, Glenway.
And?
And you, certainly, Mercer. Definitely you.
They say each man kills the thing he loves. And so I have killed you, my love. But the cruel, merciful knife which parts our flesh shall bring us yet together in a together which is forever. I am ready, officer.
Nothing happened. The play's over, Mr. Temple, and nothing happened. Charlie's safe. Not quite yet, Charles. What do you mean? Mr. Burnett, Mr.
Bradcock, this isn't the protocol.
No calls tonight.
No calls tonight, Sam, none.
As you say, Mr.
Burnett.
Open it up, Charles.
Oh, Charles, I'm saved.
Oh, yes, darling.
Well, Simon, the role is over. The play is finished. And the leading man did not kill his leading woman.
No, he didn't, Mercer. Come on, Charlie, let's get out of here. No, Charles. Why not, Simon? The play is over. Not quite yet, Mercer. You forget that in your own play, Charlie, the murder occurred at six minutes past eleven. It's now just 10.45.
You're suggesting we stay here until 6 after 11?
I'm suggesting it very strongly. Charles, would you ask Lola, Arnold Prince, and Stuart Jackson to join us? They're all backstage. Okay, Mr. Templer.
What are you expecting, Simon?
Charlie, I'm expecting another attempt on your life. There have been two already. I intend to see that this is the final one. Look.
What if it's a success?
If my theory is correct, it won't be. The saint is never wrong, Shari. Are you? Well, hardly ever. Let's join the others, shall we? I'm giving a theater party.
How much longer are we going to have to sit here, Templer?
Oh, just a few minutes, Mr. Prince. It's after 11 now.
I'm getting very dry, Simon, old boy.
Patience, Lola, patience.
It's creepy in here with everyone gone. I don't like being the bait in a trap.
You have a whole squad of protectors, Charlie. Except that one of them could be a murderer. Got any theories on the case, Mr. Templer? Oh, a few, Jackson. Three minutes after 11. Well, I guess we've got time to hear some of them. It will pass the time. In this case, the question seems to be motive. Who would profit by killing Shari? Or who would profit by framing Bennett here with the killing of Shari? Always presuming that the assailant is not Bennett himself. Thank you. Mr. Arnold Prince.
A motive, certainly. I agree with you. A rejected suitor who feels himself used badly. She's a little... Why, you... Gentlemen, gentlemen. No violence until six after eleven. Mr. Prince lost money he could ill afford to lose. He thought he lost Miss Babcock to Mr. Bennett and so had reason to hate them both. Stick around, Mr. Prince. Don't worry.
I wouldn't miss Shari's murder for twice as much dough as I poured in this rattle.
Oh, Miss Lola Enright. A motive, perhaps?
Love.
Desperate, hopeless love for this road company Barrymore and hatred for the younger rival.
Right, Simon?
Couldn't have done it better myself.
I'll stick around, Simon.
Mr. Mercer Bennett. A strange fixation that he is destined to carry out whatever roles he plays on the stage. A mania, perhaps. I've tried to get him to an analyst, Mr. Templer, many times. Ask him. Shut up, Jackson. Tempers are getting edgy as we approach the hour. Mr. Charles Glenway. One of the best of motives.
What?
Oh, I might warn you, I don't know if the electrician knows we're still here, so we might find ourselves in the darkness.
Simon.
And then it might not happen at all. Let's see, where were we? Oh, yes, yes. Charles Glenway.
Oh, Charlie couldn't do it, Simon.
He.
Simon, help!
All right. All right, drop it, you. Drop it, or I'm going to break your wrist.
Drop it.
There. All right, Sam, you can put the lights back on. Sam! Sam!
Right away, Mr.
Templer. There.
What happened?
Who was it?
Jackson. Yes, Jackson. Pick up his knife, Charlie. Yeah, sure. Anything to say, Mr. Jackson? Plenty.
But not here.
Smart fellow. But why Jackson Templer? He was my agent. He was making a good living out of me. Not good enough. He was also your business manager. He told you you were paying alimony to all four of your ex-wives... Lola hasn't gotten anything in years, right? Right. This suggested a juggling of your books. And then I'm always suspicious of business managers anyway. He also told me he had your life insured. If you were to die for the murder of Charlie Babcock, Jackson would be a rich man and no questions asked about his books either. But why, Jackson?
You are still collecting commissions from me. Shall I tell him, Jackson, or will you? I'll tell him.
You're just about through, you big ham. You can't play leading men anymore.
You're too old. Sharper than the serpent's tooth. The French say, Cherchez la femme. The Anglo-Saxons say, Cherchez la financial angle. Anything I've left out, Jackson? Yes. I hate actors.
I've always hated them.
And Bennett, I hated worst of all.
Sneering at us all the time. Running us down behind our backs.
I hate him! I've always suspected it about agents. I must be more careful. Come along, Jackson. I can get you a long contract with no options.
Uh, Templer.
Yes, sir?
After you turned Jackson in, you didn't give the full story to the papers, did you?
The, uh, the full story? Not yet. Why? Don't. Don't as a favor to me. Oh, but this will be wonderful publicity for your show. It will run forever. I'd rather you didn't. But why, Mercer?
Well, Jackson's statement about me being too old for leads. Of course, it's totally untrue, but if word of a charge like that gets around show business.
Well, you know... Yes, I see, I see. My lips are sealed. Thanks, Templer, thanks. Ah, me.
Maybe the trouble is I'm not wearing a tight enough girdle, or maybe chin straps while I.
Sleep at night.
Actors. You know, Jackson may have been right.
You have been listening to another transcribed adventure of The Saint, the Robin Hood of modern crime. Now here is our star, Vincent Price.
Ladies and gentlemen, it's difficult to comprehend the fact that you can hold life itself in the palm of your hand. The shape it takes isn't particularly dramatic. It's as simple as this. A few coins, a few dollars, your contribution to the Red Cross. The life you hold is that of some unknown person who will be restored to health through the Red Cross National Blood Program. That program is already in its second year. It still hasn't been fully developed.
It still isn't bringing the amazing medicine of whole blood to all those who need it. That won't come without more doctors, nurses, technicians, and equipment. That won't come without your help. The only thing that makes it possible for the Red Cross to carry on its mission of mercy. More than 1,500 hospitals have been supplied free of charge with blood and blood derivatives. More than half a million pints have already been provided for medical use. And yet this is only part of the Red Cross program. The Red Cross follows in the wake of disasters of all kind, treating the injured, feeding the hungry, and sheltering the homeless.
From the Red Cross emanates a network of services to the armed forces, to veterans, to the community as a whole. The complete cost of all these operations for the next year will be $ 67 million. But the cost to you is whatever you can give to help the helpless. Remember, all of us can help through the Red Cross. This is Vincent Price inviting you to join us again next week at this same time for another exciting adventure of The Saint. Goodbye. night.
This adventure of The Saint was written by Dick Powell. Our cast included Theodore Von Elst as Bennett and Mary Shipp as Shawty. Ed Begley was Jackson, Maggie Morley, Lola. Prince was played by Stanley Farrar and Charlie by Bob Clark. Harry Brown was the doorman. The Saint, based on characters created by Leslie Charteris, is a James L. Safier production and is directed by Helen Mack. Vincent Price is soon to be seen co-starring in RKO's production of His Kind of Woman. All you Saint fans will be glad to know that Mr. Price is guest editor of the January issue of Inside Detective, world's largest selling detective magazine. Your announcer, Don Stanton. Three chimes mean good times on NBC. The chimes are ringing for tonight's broadcast of the big show,
radio's greatest spectacle. Your stars for this evening's big show, in addition to the unpredictable Tallulah, will be Louis Calhearn, Jimmy Durante, Jack Carter, Martha Ray, and many, many more. For drama tonight, Theatre Guild on the Air presents a one-hour adaptation of the fascinating story Trilby, starring Rex Harrison and Teresa Wright. So remember, the big show and Theatre Guild on NBC.
Welcome back.
I have to admit that in my memory, my brain combines this and the other theater story from 1950. But it is kind of odd that, you know, I think most series will have a theater story. It's weird that we've got around 50-some episodes of The Saint, and most of them come from 1950 and 51.
And we've got at least two of them.
This one does seem to have a bit more of a feel of having some inside jokes, particularly with the idea that the agent was motivated in part by the fact that he aided actors. Which is one of those things that you want to think about before going into a career. I thought it was a great scene when Simon got so exasperated that he went out to get his breakfast. Which does reflect a bit on how exasperating some of these characters could be. Alright, well now it's time to thank our Patreon supporter of the day. Thank you to Damien, Patreon supporter since February of 2025. Currently supporting the podcast at the show must level of $ 4 or more per month. Thanks so much for your support, Damien.
And that will do it for today. If you're enjoying the podcast, please follow us using your favorite podcast software. And be sure and rate and review the podcast wherever you download it from. We will be back with you next Monday with another episode of The Saint. But join us back here tomorrow for the big story where.
Wait here, Gleason.
The missionaries are in a canyon about a quarter of a mile away. I want to check the lay of the land first.
This new wind, I don't like it.
Okay.
Holler.
Things are all right. I'll catch up.
Right.
But I don't like this wind.
And you wait.
From your vantage point, you can't see into the canyon. But you can see black areas in the distance suddenly turning into acres of jewels. Fires are all around you. But for some reason, you feel safe. You wait. Minutes, hours, you never will be sure. And then it starts to happen. It starts with Jeff frantically rushing back to you.
Gleason!
Gleason! Yeah?
Get out of here! What's the matter?
You're in the horseshoe!
Come on, head north, fast!
What about the missionaries?
They're trapped!
The fire jumped their lines blowing down over the canyon!
Come on, get going!
What about you?
I gotta try and help those fellas!
I hope you'll be with us then. In the meantime, send your comments to box13 at greatdetectives.net Follow us on Twitter at Radio Detectives and check us out on Instagram, instagram.com slash greatdetectives. From Boise, Idaho, this is your host, Adam Graham, signing off.