The Waxwork

And now, to a nice presentation of Radio's outstanding theatre of frills, SUCKS SPEND. This evening, suspense brings you what we feel as a particularly unusual and absorbing story. No actors other than Mr. William Conrad will appear in its presentation.

It's a study in terror which has few equals. So now, starring Mr. Conrad, here is tonight's suspense play by A. M. Burridge, the waxwork. While the uniformed attendance of Mariner's waxworks were ushering the last stragglers through the great glass panel double doors, the manager sat in his office interviewing Raymond Houston.

The manager was speaking. Oh, there's nothing new in your request, sir. In fact, we're refusing to different people, mostly young bloods who tried to make bets about three times a week, I should say. We have nothing to gain, something to lose.

We're letting people spend the night in our murders then. If I allowed it in some young idiot lost his senses, what would be my position, eh? But you're being a journalist, somewhat altered the case, Houston smiled.

I suppose you mean that journalists have no senses to lose? No, of course not, but one imagines them to be responsible people. Besides, we have something to gain here, publicity and its blood switch. Yes, exactly said using. And there I thought we might come to terms. The manager smiled.

I know what's coming. You want to be paid twice to him. You know, it used to be said years ago that nothing to sow would give a man a hundred pounds for sleeping alone in the chamber of hornards. Well, I hope you don't think that we've made any such offer.

What is your paper, Mr. Hooten? Well, I'm freelancing at present, sir, working on space for several papers. However, I would find no difficulty in getting the story printed. I'm sure the morning echo would use it like a shot.