- good evening, friends. would you all please examine the tops of your television sets and see if one of you doesn't find a goldfish bowl with a crack in it. thank you. by the way, i've been asked to announce that some of you are missing this program unecessarilly.

i hope you'll take care of that matter at once. tonight we are presenting a tale of mystery and intrigue laid in middle class suburbia. it is called mr. blanchard's secret. i realize that this doesn't tell you much about the story, but several fine actors have been hired to do that. i would hate to rob them of the privilege. and so, without further ado,

(light music) - poor woman, it's a shame i had to kill her off that way.

tendencies or something. who knows, if i didn't get it off my chest by writing mystery stories, i might end up by committing a few murders myself. whew, glad it worked out this way, of course. it's so much healthier. also, it pays better. otherwise, i'd say that i was pretty normal, even though my husband, john, doesn't always agree with me. poor john, he's a lawyer, corporations mostly. crime doesn't even enter his mind, but with me, it's like eating peanuts. once i start thinking about it, i can't stop. right now, i'm beginning to think some pretty strange things about the people next door. if i thought about it enough,

john, john, are you asleep? it's just one light on next door, don't you think that's odd? ever since the blanchard's moved in, that one light always burns all night. it's not the right place to be coming from a hall. it must be a bedroom, maybe it's hers. maybe she has insomnia, and she reads all night. all day. (yawns) it sounds like a lovely idea, doesn't it? funny though, they've been in that house for over two weeks, and i've never seen mrs. blanchard, not once. well, isn't that funny? he does all the chores, even hangs out her laundry. i talked to him in the market several times,

such an odd, withdrawn type. i don't know how he could make such a good teacher. do you know he used to be a university professor? what's he doing stuck away in a small town high school like ours, anyway? very strange. (yawning) good night, darling. i enjoyed out little chat. john, suppose there isn't any mrs. blanchard. suppose he just invented her for some reason, or, or she's dead and she can't accept it so he just goes on pretending. or suppose he killed her. supposed he discovered that she had some secret vice,

only i'm hungry all of a sudden. can i get you something, dear? ah. (kissing) (mysterious music) (door clicking) (dramatic music) (paper crinkling) it's not really so far fetched when you think about it. mr. blanchard gets rid of his wife, but he's still afraid someone will eventually get suspicious, so he pretends that she's still with him. he acted to peculiarly when i asked him about his wife.

course, now i know why he behaved that way. it's because there is no mrs. blanchard. why, he could go on like this for years. in fact, as long as he pretends mrs. blanchard is alive, he's safe. (dramatic music) that was not my vivid imagination. that was mr. blanchard. in the middle of the night without an explanation. (doorbell ringing) (suspenseful music)

now. of course, i'm not going to. like those peanuts, this is irresistible. looks like a set, ready for the lady to enter on cue. (footsteps) well, at least there was a mrs. blanchard, lovely too, even if that stony face doesn't seem to think so. (curious music) wow, (whistling) these could put an awful dent in a professor's salary.

- (laughs) i was looking for you. - in the closet? - well, not exactly, you see, when i caught you peeking, i mean, when i saw you outside my kitchen a little while ago, well, i thought there might be something wrong with mrs. blanchard. - there's nothing wrong with mrs. blanchard. - really, well can you prove it? i mean, oh, i'd just love to meet her. - some other time, perhaps. - then she is here. i'm sorry if i frightened you a while ago, my wife went out without telling me, and i thought perhaps she was with you. now, with your permission, i'd like to see you to your door. - well, so far, he's only got you for illegal entry and defamation of character. what else happened last night? - nothing, unfortunately. do you know, i'm positive there's something wrong in that house. mr. blanchard never once looked me straight in the eye. - maybe he was embarrassed, you weren't exactly dressed to go visiting.

u should see some of mrs. blanchard's negligee's, wow. i just can't understand how a woman with those tastes could pick a man like that. oh that house, it's like a morgue. who knows, maybe it is. - darling, how the blanchard's live is none of our business. you can't expect mr. blanchard to put the welcome mat out for you when you go prowling around his house in the middle of the night asking questions that are about as subtle as a sledge hammer. - he was prowling around our house first. outside our kitchen door, anyway? - who knows, maybe he walks in his sleep, i'd even settle for that if i could just get some sleep. - now, i'm sorry darling, i wish i could forget. you know me, i just can't stop thinking about that poor woman probably lying in the cellar someplace right this minute just ready to be popped into the furnace. - now please, not right on top of my breakfast. - (laughs) ah, sometimes i don't know how you put up with me. i'll tell you what,

- can i count on that? - of course darling, but the time you get home, mrs. blanchard will be buried for the last time. - ah, bye. - bye, bye. maybe the secret vice angle for mrs. blanchard is a good one. maybe she was an alcoholic or something. mr. blanchard's university career was being destroyed, so, he finally had to take steps. (typewriter clacking) (mysterious music) - where are you going? - no place, especially. just,

get back to your room at once. - charles, charles, i promise to behave. oh charles, i can't stand it any longer. i can't stand it. if i don't get out of this house, i'll go mad! oh charles, i want to make friends, go shopping-- - shopping. - be like other women, don't you understand? - but you are not like other women. other women do not get themselves into a drunken stupor a spree and wind up almost running a child down. other women help their husband's careers, they do not destroy them. now, get back to your room. - no, no, no! i will not be kept a prisoner in this house any longer. i am going to tell the world what you have done to me. - have you counted the number of times that we have had to move? the positions i have given up because of you, have you?

(suspenseful music) (screaming) - and that's the end of her. oh, john will be so happy. - ahem, mrs. fenton? i'm mrs. blanchard, i've been wanting to meet you.

ook the liberty of walking in. - mrs. blanchard? - yes. - come in please, you have no idea how glad i am to see you. - it's all so pretty here, just the way i imagined it. - i was beginning to think that you didn't exist at all. - i'm sorry i can't stay very long, my husband doesn't know i'm here. (laughs) he wouldn't like it.

- don't you say another word until i get some coffee. i'm sure we're gonna have a lot to talk about. mr. blanchard, how charming of you to call. would you join us in some coffee, won't you? - i'm sorry, mrs. fenton, but i'm afraid there won't be time for that. come ellen. - are you angry with me? - come, ellen, i said. - (laughs) all right, charles. i'm sorry that i couldn't stay for coffee, men are such babies, just can't be left alone for one minute. - when a man is so jealous that he keep his wife a virtual prisoner in her own home, won't even let her out to talk to a neighbor, then he has to be insane. i'm not gonna just sit here. i just couldn't live with myself if i didn't do something to help. her light is on, as usual. i don't even want to think of that bedroom

what the rest of the house looks like. and all those pretty clothes that no one ever gets to see. honestly john, i'd just like to take that man and do-- (door bangs) he just came out of the house. he's carrying something, it looks like a large sack. he's putting it into his car. (door slams) (car engine starts) john, he's driving off with it. oh, no! john, john, something's wrong. how can you read at a time like this? - doesn't everybody? - oh, for heaven's sake, do something! - about what? - john, 10 minutes ago, mr. blanchard left here in a great hurry, practically dragging a heavy sack. i've been pounding on their door ever since. mrs. blanchard's light is still on, but mrs. blanchard doesn't answer. now, do you understand? - not in the least.

h her for coming over here this morning. john, suppose that what mr. blanchard had in that sack was the body of ellen blanchard? - what? - now will you call the police? - look, you've done some pretty wacky things in your-- - never mind, i'll do it myself. get me the police. - now stop that! i beg of you, don't-- - maybe you don't mind having a murder committed... hello, this is mrs. john fenton. y to bother you, but i believe a woman has just been murdered. who? oh, she's my next-door neighbor. no, no, i'm not absolutely sure, but... see, i saw her husband dragging a sack out of their house in the middle of the night. do you mean that you still haven't found the body? you haven't even looked?

course i can't be absolutely sure there was a murder. but how can you be absolutely sure there wasn't unless you look. i don't know, you're the police. just ask yourself where you'd go to get rid of a body if you had one. (sighs) don't worry, darling, i didn't say anything that would get us into trouble. - certainly not. of course, when the police arrest you for being me. but if you need help, i'll be at the office. (door shutting) - poor john, i wish he has just a little more imagination. he wouldn't suffer so.

(doorbell dinging) - hello, i've come for coffee. (laughing) you had such a funny look on your face when i came in as if i were a ghost. - to be perfectly frank, i thought i'd never see you again after yesterday. (laughs) well, as a matter of fact, he got so furious he threw a few things into a duffle bag and stormed into the night. he hasn't come back yet. - duffle bag, so that was it. but didn't you hear me ringing your bell? - no, oh, but then i was so upset, i tool a sleeping pill. i didn't hear a thing after that. oh how pretty, do you mind? - no, of course not, help yourself.

d thumb with lighters. (laughing) try this. - thank you, it's such a lovely one. i adore silver, but i suppose every woman does. - if you knew some of the wild theories i've had about you. - theories? - i think we'd better skip those. from now on, i'm gonna stick to writing. - write, how exciting. - it depends on if your taste runs to crime. - mm-mm, mm-mm, upsets me horribly. - well, at least i was right about something. ellen, ellen, forgive me for being personal, but are you happy? - you mean with charles? yes, yes, i think so. of course, he is sort of high strung, doesn't want me out of his sight,

- i'm sure. but don't you mind being cooped up and never getting out, and never seeing anyone? - oh, i sneak off away sometimes, to the movies or to go shopping. i adore going shopping by myself. but, well, charles doesn't approve. i suppose he knows what's best. - i just don't think that you're real. - oh no, actually, i'm very grateful to him. he understands my little foibles. besides, i am the most dreadful housekeeper. sometimes i think he's an angel to put up with me. you know, i really must be going. charles generally gets at home for lunch about this time. i'm going to be there. - you said last night he... - oh, you mean about leaving me. he's done that before, he always comes back. you know, i can't tell you how much i've enjoyed this. i do hope there's something i can do for you sometime.

(sizzling) oh, my irish stew, i forgot all about it! - well don't worry about me, i'll let myself out. see you soon. - ok, bye. (serious music) (door shutting) i really thought i had the blanchard's all figured out. oh, i don't know who's crazy, unless it's me.

that's funny. thought it was here just a few minutes ago. i remember distinctly, because mrs. blanchard had it in her hand admiring it. she said how much she adored silver. now i know what mr. blanchard's secret is. (surging, dramatic music) (typewrite clacking) well, i finished it, and i think it's good. want to her it? - [john] if it has anything to do with the blanchard's, no. - i disguised them beautifully. i don't think i lost anything. imagine me thinking all those dreadful things about him. all the time, the poor man had a kleptomaniac on his hands.

probably can't keep any position very long because of her. he never even lets her out of his sight, she just goes right out and steals things. well, she can't help it, of course, but it must be awfully nerve-wracking for him. think of it, the strain he must live under, never knowing when the blow will fall again. it a wonder that he hasn't killed her. - people simply don't go around murdering each other so easily, my love, they also don't take quite as many silver cigarette lighters as you might think. - well, i'd just like to know what happened to that silver cigarette lighter, then. - [john] why don't you try the direct approach, why don't you ask mrs. blanchard if she took it? - don't be silly darling, you just can't go around asking people personal questions like that. besides, it didn't work anyway. (phone ringing) - [john] if that's for me, i'm asleep.

that was the police. they've just found a woman's body. they say she was around 30 and a brunette. it must be mrs. blanchard. - [john] i don't believe it. - it's down at the morgue, and i have to go down and identify it. she was hit in the head and thrown over a cliff. it must have been that silver lighter that finally broke the camel's back. - what camel? - mr. blanchard, when he discovered his wife had stolen again, guess he just went berzerk and murdered-- john, you don't think that he really did murder her? - of course not darling,

i'll just never forgive myself for this. - what does it go to do with you? - i was so suspicious, i was always inventing things... it's almost as though i made it happen, don't you see? - no, i don't see. i'm going down to the morgue and settle this right now. - no, john, i started it, and i'm going to finish it. - it works now, i had charles fix it. he's awfully good at that sort of thing, although he hates to admit it.

now if you'll excuse me, i must hurry off to a little social affair. a dear friend is guest of honor, it's a stoning. i wouldn't miss it for the world. good night.

- hitchcock: good evening, and welcome to alfred hitchcock presents. thank you. see you next year. we thought you'd like to see this. so many of you have expressed an interest in knowing how i was paid. now i