| Title | The Man Who Knew Everything |
| Message Text | Okay, I'm working on "A Time to be Born ..." but here's a transcript of "The Man Who Knew Everything": CHAPPELL: Quiet, please. (SEVEN SECONDS SILENCE) CHAPPELL: Quiet, please. (MUSIC ... THEME ... FADE FOR) ANNCR: The American Broadcasting Company presents "Quiet, Please!" which is written and directed by Wyllis Cooper, and which features Ernest Chappell. "Quiet, Please!" for today is called "The Man Who Knew Everything." (MUSIC ... THEME ... END) AFTERNOON: How do you do? (CHUCKLES) That's just a manner of speaking, isn't it, when I know perfectly well how you do? I know you're all right except for the weather and all that. I - I should've said, "How do you--?" No, I mean, "Good day." Heh, that's better. I-- SOUND: (PHONE RINGS) AFTERNOON: Excuse me just a moment. I know who that is. SOUND: (PICKS UP PHONE) AFTERNOON: Hello? Yes. Yes, I know. Why, the name of the Mystery Tune is "Interlude Dramatique" by Piero Coppola who was formerly conductor of the Paris Conservatoire Orchestra. Thank you, I know. A brand new automobile. Two refrigerators. (INCREASINGLY IMPATIENT) Yes. Yes! YES! Yes, I know. Yes, thank you, but you forgot a dozen pair of chromium-plated stilts. Yes, thank you. No, not very excited, thank you. I knew I was going to win the jackpot. Yes. And send everything to my home. SOUND: (HANGS UP PHONE) AFTERNOON: That's always the way it is -- they're so surprised when I know the answers. I can't really help it, you see. I know everything. (MUSIC: AN ACCENT, THEN IN BG) AFTERNOON: It's a little awkward at times -- knowing everything. And sometimes I find it difficult to explain. You see, I never know anything until I think about it. My goodness, some of the things I think about. (CLICKS TONGUE) I'll be sitting here, for instance, just idling away the time, and all of a sudden, I'll think, "What is the square root of seven hundred and seventy- seven?" It's two seven point six seven four seven plus. Ornamental but hardly useful. Mr. Wyllis Cooper's telephone number in Chicago in 1922 was Buckingham one- five-seven-oh. Interesting. Mrs. Dorothy Neely of Woodland Hills, California has a dog named Kiltie, a Scottish terrier. Ernest Chappell went to North High School in Syracuse. Joseph Silverman of New York City speaks Chinese. SOUND: (PHONE RINGS) AFTERNOON: I know who that is. SOUND: (PICKS UP PHONE) AFTERNOON: Hello? Yes, I know it's the Weather Bureau. Tomorrow will be fair and colder, moderate to fresh northerly winds. You're welcome. SOUND: (HANGS UP PHONE) AFTERNOON: You see? I'm continually bothered by people who want to know things. What is a tonka bean? What was President Rutherford B. Hayes' middle name? Where did I lose my diamond bracelet? What does "Spasibo balshoye" mean? The answers, respectively, are: a South American product used for flavoring cigarette tobacco; Birchard; in the laundry hamper in your bathroom under your green, uh, unmentionables; and "Thank you very much" in Russian. Quite welcome, I'm sure. I said it's a little awkward at times. I mean by that it's, uh, shall I say, "unpleasant." I shall say "unpleasant." When I get to thinking about myself-- I know all about me -- "natch" as Mr. Murray Bowen of Pacific Palisades, California often says. I am aware that my spleen is two centimeters too high, that I have a tendency to hypertension and that I shall probably perish of an aortal aneurysm. However, don't let those ailments of mine bother you. I shall not tell you about them in any more detail. It was of yourself I wished to speak. And I hope you will bear with me. As a matter of fact, I KNOW you will bear with me. (CHUCKLES) Excuse me, there is a gentleman at the door with a very interesting question. SOUND: (KNOCK AT DOOR) (MUSIC ... OUT) AFTERNOON: Come in. SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) AFTERNOON: How do you do, Mr. Perry Barnforth of Puyallop, Washington? SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) AFTERNOON: You will sit down. BARNFORTH: My name is Travis Feidlebaum. AFTERNOON: Your name is Perry Barnforth. You were formerly in the bicycle repair business in Puyallop. You were convicted of barratry in 1934 but released on a technicality. In 1947, you broke your right ankle and last October you went through bankruptcy with liabilities of eighty-three thousand dollars and assets of -- BARNFORTH: (SIGHS) Never mind, never mind. I've heard about you. AFTERNOON: Obviously. BARNFORTH: Well, I came here to-- AFTERNOON: To secure the combination of the vault at the Cordwainers National Bank on Thirteenth Street. BARNFORTH: Exactly. AFTERNOON: The combination is-- You'd better write it down. Eleven left. BARNFORTH: Mm hm. AFTERNOON: Right two, left sixteen, right twenty-four, left six, right five -- and open. ... Have you got it? BARNFORTH: Thank you very much. AFTERNOON: Are there any other questions, Mr. Barnforth? BARNFORTH: How much is there in the vault? AFTERNOON: One million six hundred and ten thousand dollars, sir. BARNFORTH: (MUMBLES AS HE WRITES) One million six hundred, ten thousand. (TO AFTERNOON) Well, thanks very much. AFTERNOON: Any other questions? BARNFORTH: No, I think not. SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) AFTERNOON: Very well. Good day, sir. BARNFORTH: Good day. SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) AFTERNOON: That chap? Oh, a burglar. They bother me to death. But I was starting to talk about you. May I go on, please? I know a few facts that I think you ought to know, too. Do you know these people by their descriptions? A tall, grossly fat man with a bald head, an absolutely bald head. And an extremely unpleasant deep voice. Just the trace of an accent. Probably six feet, six inches tall, weight about three hundred pounds. And a man and a woman with him. Both of them not more than four feet tall. The man very fat, too, in a sort of unhealthy way, wearing a little black mustache. The woman short and dumpy. Wears glasses perched on a very sharp nose. Has a very red face. Well, they know you. (MUSIC ... COMIC INTRIGUE IN BG) AFTERNOON: They were talking about you in a certain restaurant Wednesday night. Wednesday night. Does that give you any ideas? Well, think. Please, think. Let me describe them a little more. The tall, gross, cruel- looking man wore a tan gabardine suit with a white shirt and a knitted red and black tie. He was eating a breaded veal cutlet, I think -- it was rather unpleasant watching it. The smaller man wore a blue serge suit, rather shiny, blue shirt and a bow tie. He was drinking beer, Pilsner Urquell. Although he mispronounced it -- he called it "er-kwell." The woman has a very red face. It looked as if she'd rouged it all over. Sharp features. Kind of modified Harlequin glasses. Dark gray dress with an ornament that looks like a woman's hand. Rather like the Hand of Fatima but-- Well, I'm sure it couldn't be THAT -- on THIS woman. A dark blue hat with a capercaillie feather on it. You know her? Well ... she knows you. (MUSIC ... AN ACCENT, THEN OUT) AFTERNOON: I wish you'd search your memory. That really is quite important. You must excuse me a moment. Miss Tragacanth is coming in with the mail. SOUND: (KNOCK AT DOOR) AFTERNOON: Come in, Miss Tragacanth! SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) TRAGACANTH: Good morning, Mr. Afternoon. AFTERNOON: Good morning, Miss Tragacanth. SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) AFTERNOON: Ah, the safety pin with which you fastened your girdle when you broke the zipper this morning is open, Miss Tragacanth, and it'll presently stick you in the-- It will presently stick you if you do not fix it. SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) TRAGACANTH: Thank you, Mr. Afternoon. SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) AFTERNOON: That is one of the unfortunate aspects of knowing everything. But Miss Tragacanth is more or less used to my knowing everything. I noticed your start when she addressed me by my name. I am sorry. I should have introduced myself long ago. Here we've been sitting and talking all this time and-- I'm sorry. My name is Charles W. Afternoon of Woodbury, New Jersey. Our ancestral home on North Drexel Street in Woodbury is one of the sights of the city. Ah! Miss Tragacanth has effected her repairs. She is returning. SOUND: (KNOCK AT DOOR) AFTERNOON: Come on, Miss Tragacanth! SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) TRAGACANTH: Thank you, Mr. Afternoon. AFTERNOON: You're entirely welcome, Miss Tragacanth. I see you have only two letters today. Take a letter to Mrs. Grover Cleveland McNulty, the Dells, Oregon. Dear Mrs. McNulty: No. Yours truly. No, Miss Tragacanth, I do not need to see the letters. I know what is in them. The next one: To Mr. Marshall Birddog, Albuquerque, New Mexico. Dear Mr. Birddog: Your great-grandfather's name was "Thirteen Thumbs," period. He was a sachem of the Stoneboiler Indians in Upper Athabasca, comma, and was captured in 1812 and converted to the Shinto faith by a band of wandering Japanese fishermen, period. Paragraph. He escaped seven years later, comma, emigrated to Doylestown, Pennsylvania, comma, and became the father of a large family which later removed to Albuquerque, comma, although your great-grandfather deserted the Apaches near Anton Chico, New Mexico, comma, and resumed his former life as a sachem, period. Yours truly. TRAGACANTH: There was another letter, Mr. Afternoon, but I lost it. AFTERNOON: Never mind, Miss Tragacanth. It was from my Uncle Fred asking for money. Send him a check for sixty dollars and give my best regards to him and Aunt Hilda. You have a cold, Miss Tragacanth. TRAGACANTH: I hope I'll get over it. AFTERNOON: You will. TRAGACANTH: Must be wonderful to know everything, Mr. Afternoon. AFTERNOON: People either get over a cold or they eventually die from it. I know that you are not going to die from a cold, ergo, you will get over this one and all the others you may have -- which, in your case, is fourteen more before you die. TRAGACANTH: What am I going to die of, Mr. Afternoon? AFTERNOON: Never mind. TRAGACANTH: Please, Mr. Afternoon. AFTERNOON: (PLAYS DUMB -- UNCONVINCINGLY, OF COURSE) I don't know. TRAGACANTH: Yes, you do, Mr. Afternoon. AFTERNOON: No, I don't. TRAGACANTH: Oh, Mr. Afternoon! AFTERNOON: I shan't tell you. TRAGACANTH: Will I be murdered? AFTERNOON: No. TRAGACANTH: Will it be an accident? AFTERNOON: No. TRAGACANTH: Will I be hanged? AFTERNOON: No. Please go away, Miss Tragacanth! TRAGACANTH: You're a meanie, Mr. Afternoon! Where will I die? Will you tell me that? AFTERNOON: Why should I? TRAGACANTH: Well, then I wouldn't ever go there, see? AFTERNOON: Please go away, Miss Tragacanth! There's somebody at the door. TRAGACANTH: Well, I think you're-- AFTERNOON: A meanie. Answer the door. TRAGACANTH: I don't hear the doorbell. AFTERNOON: It will ring. SOUND: (DOORBELL RINGS TWICE) AFTERNOON: There. TRAGACANTH: (ANNOYED) Oh ...! SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) TRAGACANTH: Can I go out and get a sandwich, then, Mr. Afternoon? AFTERNOON: You will whether I give you permission or not. TRAGACANTH: (ANNOYED) Oh ...! SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) AFTERNOON: (CONFIDENTIALLY) Miss Tragacanth is going to die of overeating at the age of eighty-one. That man at the door now. That's a policeman. It's Officer Shapiro, an old friend of mine. He's come to tell me that he's arrested the gentleman from Puyallop, Washington, Mr. Barnforth. You remember? The man who wanted the combination to the bank vault? You thought I was being an accessory to a crime, didn't you? It was quite all right to give him the combination, you see, I knew the police were looking for him. I'd've told him but he didn't ask me. You see, I DO know everything. But, generally, I don't tell. Unless I'm asked. But, in your case ... (MUSIC ... AN ACCENT, THEN IN BG) AFTERNOON: ... These people I was telling you about. Yes, I know you don't know them but I do know you've seen them. Separately, perhaps. The tall fat man with a cruel mouth and the eyes that always seem to be looking over your shoulder and yet never miss a movement. And the greasy little man with the black mustache. And the heavy thing in his left-hand coat pocket. He's left-handed, you know. And the sharp-faced woman with the glasses. With the mercurochrome stains on her right thumb. And the brand new Koret handbag - that has nothing in it - but an ice pick. You wouldn't kid me, would you? (CHUCKLES) You CAN'T kid me. (MUSIC ... AN ACCENT, THEN OUT) AFTERNOON: What are you fidgeting about? You see? Remember this morning when you felt as if there was someone watching you? Then, tell me something -- did your coffee taste funny this morning? You see? Maybe you do know them - after all. SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) AFTERNOON: No, Miss Tragacanth, I don't want you to fetch me a sandwich. SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) AFTERNOON: She's going out to have a peanut butter and chutney sandwich. She usually has a cream cheese and spam on Russian rye but she's changed her mind today. By the way ... ... wasn't that door - to your bedroom - open? You didn't close it. No, I wouldn't go look yet -- if I were you. Matter of fact, I wouldn't like to BE you. No, I don't know exactly what IS going to happen but I'll know when it DOES happen. I find it rather difficult to predict happenings. Except, of course, perfectly obvious things, like my secretary dying of overeating at the age of eighty-one. And my own demise of an aortal aneurysm. But I'm not sure when THAT will occur. And your own case. I know that something rather dreadful will occur to you. And I naturally want to warn you about it so that it won't come as a complete surprise to you. There's nothing I can do about it, except warn you. Incidentally, the windows in that room could stand a washing. No, don't look. You might see something you don't want to see. Listen to me. This tall, gross man I told you about. He limps slightly. His left leg. A knife cut. He's unhealthy, too. Has ulcers. And the way he eats fried food! But he's quite dangerous -- not a nice person at all. And those accomplices of his. The woman's name is Mamie. Recognize that? Mamie? I don't need to tell you her last name, do I? Or have you forgotten it? Mamie? And her ice pick? The little man? Oh, he has several names. No, I'm not trying to kid you. I just don't think it's a good idea to tell you right here in front of everybody. Oh, well. Lean over here and I'll whisper it to you. One of his names is-- You know him now? Er, he didn't have the mustache maybe then but you'll recognize him by it now. Little mustache, kind of like Hitler's -- you wouldn't forget Hitler's mustache, would you? Always carries a book. He had it on the table beside his plate Wednesday night and the cover got all stained with beer. He's a little sloppy, isn't he? SOUND: (PHONE RINGS) AFTERNOON: That's Judge Rodney Erickson. He's trying Clapperclaw Duddy. You know, the gangster they're accusing of putting his enemies in the deep freeze up in Connecticut. SOUND: (PICKS UP PHONE) AFTERNOON: Hello, Judge Erickson. No, Clapperclaw Duddy IS innocent, Judge. It was his lawyer that did it -- Ollie Tharpe. Hang HIM, Judge. Issue a bench warrant and he'll confess. Clapperclaw Duddy really WAS in jail in Michigan when it happened. Ollie Tharpe did it. You're welcome, Judge. SOUND: (HANGS UP PHONE) AFTERNOON: Always ready to help out justice. SOUND: (KNOCK AT DOOR) AFTERNOON: Yes, Miss Tragacanth? SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) TRAGACANTH: There's a man to see you. AFTERNOON: I know it. TRAGACANTH: (EXASPERATED) Oh, darn! Can't I ever tell you anything you don't know? AFTERNOON: (AMUSED) Of course not. TRAGACANTH: This is a tall fat man-- AFTERNOON: With a heavy face and eyes that don't match and he's wearing a brown gabardine suit. TRAGACANTH: And he says he saw you in a restaurant-- AFTERNOON: Wednesday night. You will show him in, Miss Tragacanth. TRAGACANTH: Come in, sir. SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) AFTERNOON: How do you--? I mean, hello, Mr. Ducrat. DUCRAT: I want you to know something, Mr. Afternoon. AFTERNOON: I already know it. DUCRAT: My right name is not-- AFTERNOON: Your name is not Amadeus Wolfgang Ducrat. But that is the name you are using at present. DUCRAT: It is so. I have-- AFTERNOON: A message for me. DUCRAT: I will tell you the message. AFTERNOON: Of course. DUCRAT: You are in communication with a certain party. AFTERNOON: I am? DUCRAT: I want to warn you-- AFTERNOON: (SHOUTS) Get away from that keyhole, Miss Tragacanth! DUCRAT: Eh? AFTERNOON: (QUIETLY) You want to warn me that I must not communicate further with this certain person. DUCRAT: Party. AFTERNOON: I'm sorry. DUCRAT: Then I'm afraid that I shall have to take steps. AFTERNOON: You mean kill me? DUCRAT: That is what I mean, Mr. Afternoon. AFTERNOON: (CONFIDENTLY) You will not kill me. DUCRAT: Oh, yes, I will. AFTERNOON: Sir, I beg to differ with you. You will ATTEMPT to kill me but your gun, which you are carrying in your hand with your broad-brimmed Texas-style hat, will misfire. And Miss Tragacanth will call the police. But you'll escape before they arrive. DUCRAT: You think so? AFTERNOON: I know so. DUCRAT: No. AFTERNOON: But, yes, Mister-- DUCRAT: Let's see if the gun will misfire, then. SOUND: (REVOLVER CLICKS HARMLESSLY ONCE, THEN FOUR MORE TIMES) AFTERNOON: There. You see? SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) TRAGACANTH: Police are coming, Mr. Afternoon. And they'll be here-- AFTERNOON: You'd better run, Mr. Ducrat. SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) TRAGACANTH: Well, for heaven's sakes. For a fat man, he certainly can move fast! (CHUCKLES) AFTERNOON: Yes, indeed. Too fast, I'm afraid. The police are arriving, Miss Tragacanth. Kindly tell them they won't be needed. SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) TRAGACANTH: Yes, sir. SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) AFTERNOON: Did you - recognize his voice? (MUSIC ... AN ACCENT, THEN IN BG) AFTERNOON: When you hear a knock at your door and you ask who's there -- and you hear that voice again, well .... By the way, perhaps you'd better double lock your door. He's quite powerful and, as Miss Tragacanth says, he moves fast for a fat man. There's a car driving away quite rapidly down the street. I could see it from the window but I don't need to. I know who's in it. The woman with the sharp features and the little man with the Hitler mustache. And the man who calls himself Ducrat. You don't know where they're going. I do. (MUSIC ... AN ACCENT, THEN OUT) AFTERNOON: I know everything. I even know why they're after you. Even if you can't think why. You could think why if you wanted to. There isn't much time left. SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) AFTERNOON: It's five-fifty, Miss Tragacanth. TRAGACANTH: What time is it, Mr. After--? Oh. SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) AFTERNOON: No, there isn't much time left. And it isn't far to your place. Besides, they've been there before, you know, and they know all the shortcuts. I think, if I were you, I'd put something against the door. If you only knew what I overheard in the restaurant Wednesday night while the tall fat man talked. A tall fat man with a cold killer's eyes and the gun that won't misfire the next time. Oh, he's taken care of that. Yeah, it would have frightened you a great deal more if you'd heard what he said to the woman he calls Mamie. The woman with the brand new Koret purse and nothing in it - but an ice pick. And what the little greasy man said to him -- the man in the blue serge suit with something heavy in the left-hand coat pocket. It frightens me -- and I'm not easily frightened. And then, the tall fat man coming to see me. I didn't expect that. Even if I did know who he was when he came to the front door. I know what HE'S got in his pocket -- what the fat man's carrying: A coil of piano wire. And I know what they're talking about, right now, as they drive along on the way to - your house. Don't YOU know? Well, can't you figure it out? Don't you know what they want? I do. Think, won't you? No, I don't WANT to tell you. Don't be obstinate! You DO know who they are -- all three of them! Don't answer the telephone if it rings. SOUND: (PHONE RINGS) AFTERNOON: (ANNOYED) That wasn't your phone. It was mine. It's the police. Just wait a second. SOUND: (PICKS UP PHONE) AFTERNOON: Yes, Officer Drucker? OFFICER DRUCKER: Listen, Mr. Afternoon, I hear a fella got away from the boys at your place a little while ago. Tall fella, fat, with a big Stetson hat. You called the police, didn't you? AFTERNOON: That is quite true, Officer Drucker. He tried to shoot me but he escaped. He's in a car with two other persons, a man and a woman. OFFICER DRUCKER: How'd you know? AFTERNOON: And he ran down an old man and a corporal in the Air Force at a street intersection. OFFICER DRUCKER: The old man's dead. AFTERNOON: And the corporal has internal injuries. He will survive. OFFICER DRUCKER: It was a hit and run thing. AFTERNOON: Yes, I know. OFFICER DRUCKER: I was wondering if you had any idea where they're going so's we can head 'em off. AFTERNOON: Why -- no, Officer Drucker. I - I haven't the faintest idea. (MUSIC ... AN ACCENT) OFFICER DRUCKER: Well, I was just hopin'. AFTERNOON: I'm sorry. I don't know. (MUSIC ... A BRIEF BRIDGE) AFTERNOON: (CONFIDENTIALLY) I had to do that. You don't want the police in on this, do you? No, of course you don't. SOUND: (SCRAPING NOISE) AFTERNOON: Listen. Is that a--? Is that someone at your door? No, it's the people next door. They're listening, too. I think they're getting ready to go out. They don't want to get involved in this. I'm sure I don't blame them, not after what I heard Wednesday night. No, it's too late for you to go out. You wouldn't have a chance, you know that. Time's getting short. If I were there with you, I -- might be able to help. Why do I say that? I KNOW I could help you. But I'm not there. Unfortunately. And please don't call the police. Stay away from the telephone. You feel sick, don't you? I told you about the coffee. You SURE there hasn't been somebody in your house? I know you don't think it's possible but don't be too sure. Wasn't there a drawer open - when you came home yesterday? A drawer you thought you'd closed. Remember when you woke up in the middle of the night, Friday night, and wondered what it was that woke you up? Sure. Are you frightened? I'd be, I know. Because you don't know what's going to happen - that's why you're not so scared. But I know what's going to happen and it scares me. It scares me to know everything. You have no idea of all the things I know. Frightening things. Funny things. Strange things. What dogs talk about and how to make a Pisco Punch. What's hidden in that cave under Radio City in New York. The beach where Captain Kidd buried his treasure and how much it costs to put an ad in the London Daily Mail. The size hat that Stalin wears. Or what Miss Tragacanth wants for Christmas next year. How I'm going to die sometime of an aortal aneurysm. The name of the mayor of Peoria, Illinois. And-- (MUSIC ... IN AND UNDER) AFTERNOON: And what's going to happen to you. (MUSIC ... GRIEG'S "IN THE HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN KING" ... THEN UNDER) AFTERNOON: A tall fat man. A little sharp-featured woman with glasses. A little man with a Hitler mustache. And the presents they're bringing you. You DO know them, don't you? SOUND: (KNOCK AT THE DOOR) AFTERNOON: Come in, Miss Tragacanth. SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) AFTERNOON: You brought the letters for me to sign. SOUND: (DOOR SHUTS) TRAGACANTH: Yes, Mr. Afternoon. AFTERNOON: Thank you. (WEARILY) Ah, that'll be all for today, Miss Tragacanth. TRAGACANTH: Why, what's the matter, Mr. Afternoon? AFTERNOON: I don't feel good. TRAGACANTH: You're getting a cold. AFTERNOON: No. Well, thank you, Miss Tragacanth. You can go now. I'm busy. TRAGACANTH: Yes, sir. SOUND: (DOOR OPENS AND SHUTS) AFTERNOON: (INCREASINGLY OUT OF BREATH) I had to get rid of her in a hurry. I've got something more to tell you. You've only got a few more minutes to wait. I - I hope you're ready. SOUND: (BUMPING NOISE) AFTERNOON: Listen. Isn't that somebody outside your door now? SOUND: (BUMPING NOISE) AFTERNOON: Listen closely. Listen. Ouch! Look, I'll tell you what to do. There's only one thing to-- I feel dizzy. Only one thing you CAN do. They're at your door now. Did you put something against it? (BREATHES HEAVILY) Wait a second. I'm out of breath. I'll tell you what to do. Just take-- Ooh! Just take-- Ahhh! (GROANS) I'll have to hurry. I told you about that-- that aortal-- aneurysm-- I'm afraid-- Ooh! All you have to do-- They're at the door-- All you have to do is-- Oh! My chest. You just take-- Just take-- It's come. It's come. Help. Miss Trag-- Help! SOUND: (DOOR OPENS) TRAGACANTH: Why, I was just going home, Mr. Afternoon. AFTERNOON: I'm - I'm trying to tell-- Ooh! TRAGACANTH: What can I do? What shall I--? AFTERNOON: Too late. TRAGACANTH: Can I get some water? AFTERNOON: No. All you have to do-- They're at the door-- They're - they're coming in-- Just - just take-- TRAGACANTH: (SHRIEKS) AFTERNOON: I'm - I'm sorry. Gotta take-- Too-- late-- The door-- (GROANS) SOUND: (BODY COLLAPSES TO FLOOR) (MUSIC .. OUT) TRAGACANTH: He's -- dead! (MUSIC ... THEME FADE FOR) ANNOUNCER: The title of today's "Quiet, Please!" story is "The Man Who Knew Everything." It was written and directed by Wyllis Cooper and the man who spoke to you was Ernest Chappell. CHAPPELL: And others in the cast were James Goss, Arthur Kohl and Jean McBride. Music for "Quiet, Please!" is by Albert Buhrmann. Now, for a word about next week, here is our writer-director, Wyllis Cooper. COOPER: Thank you for listening to "Quiet, Please!" Next week, for all my Irish friends, I have a story for 'em called "Dark Rosaleen." CHAPPELL: And so, until next week at this same time, I am quietly yours, Ernest Chappell. (MUSIC ... THEME ... END) ANNOUNCER: And now a listening reminder. In just a little while, you'll want to hear the predictions of things to come that will come your way from Drew Pearson. This is ABC, the American Broadcasting Company. |
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| Ownership | MS |
| Views | 932 views. Averaging 0 views per day. |
| Submission Date | Jan 18, 2004 |