The Bride Vanishes

The spend, the spents is compounded of mystery and intrigue and dangerous adventure. Stories calculated to intrigue you, to stir your nerves.

Tonight for instance as we begin, you may want to ask yourself, how could a young lady, a bride, walk out on a balcony alone and vanish? Completely vanish. We trust that while you are wondering how and why it was done, We shall keep you in suspense.

For suspense. Tonight, CBS presents The Bride Benishes by John Dixon Carr. Italy in springtime. Italy, as we used to know it before the jackal struck.

And the island of country, twenty miles out across the bay of maple. Blue water of dazzle under the sun. Behind were the bone-white beaches and Vesuvius dull purple in a hee-haze. Ahead, as the little steamer from Naples chugs out across the bay, rises cup-free.

Olive trees and white roads, and vineyards above the cliffs. Could young Americans find a better place to spend their honeymoon? While the Qatar Sing and the warm winds blow, and the little steamer carries them?

Well, Mrs. Courtney? Well, Mr. Courtney. I can't keep it up, Lucy. I'm going to break down and ask if you're happy. Oh, I'll break down too. I want to walk up to everybody I meet and say, We, just like that.

What I want to do is turn somersaults myself, all along the deck here. I want to say, I've been married to Tom Courtney for practically two weeks. And now we're going to have a villa at Capri for a month.

Oh, Tom, I ought to be the happiest woman in the world. You're a shepherd. What's wrong? Well, ever since we got aboard this ship, people have been staring at me. I can't blame him for that, dear.