078- Wild Oranges -Van Heflin

One week from tonight, October 5th, you bet your life starring Groucho Marx will be heard at this time over most of these same CBS stations. We offer you... Escape! Starring Van Heflen! Escape! Designed to free you from the four walls of the day for a half hour of high adventure!

You are trapped in the dank darkness of a ruined plantation house. Somewhere in the pitch black room is a homicidal maniac armed with a knife, groping for you, Trying to prevent your escape. Tonight, with Van Heplen as John Wolfock, we escape to a deserted sand pit off the coast of Georgia, where terror stalks under the Spanish moss,

as Joseph Hurgishimer tells it in, Wild Oranges. What could have appeared more innocent of danger than that bare and low-lying shore of southern Georgia? What could have seemed less laden with terror than that lovely little cove, so tranquil and well sheltered, so warmly bathed in late afternoon sun as we dropped the anchor

of our catch and prepared our mooring. And yet there was something. First, it was an aroma, a grove of wild orange trees in late bloom, grew defiantly amid the tangled undergrowth of the shore. The scent was strong and exotic and heavy, and as I smelled it I felt a vague uneasiness.

Then as I watched the shore and howled my sailor and furrowed the sails, the mirror of the cove was shattered by a movement. At first I thought it was a fish leaping and playing in the water, came round a spit of land from an inner bay, and then Halvard was beside me.

That's queer sir, I would have bet there was nobody within miles of here, but that's someone swimming. Yes, that's a girl. Nice sir. You'll be surprised when she discovers us, no, Tom. And embarrassed. Hey, she swam as well, isn't she?