- [introduction]
- Alfred Hitchcock: [holding an umbrella and wearing a bowler hat] 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?
- [puts out his hand to test for rain]
- Alfred Hitchcock: Thank you. By the way, I've been asked to announce that some of you are missing this program unnecessarily. You have moved and not kept us informed of your address. So we don't know where to send the show to you. 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.
- [takes off hat]
- Alfred Hitchcock: It is called "Mr. Blanchard's Secret." I realize this doesn't tell you much about the story, but several fine actors have been hired to do that, and I would hate to rob them of the privilege. And so, without further ado, we reveal Mr. Blanchard's secret.
- [first lines]
- Babs Fenton: [voice-over] Poor woman. It's a shame I had to kill her off that way. A psychiatrist would probably say that I had some hidden homicidal 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. Phew! I'm 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. It's my vivid imagination that gives John the most trouble. 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, I could really build it up into a production. Knowing myself, I probably will.
- [last lines]
- Mrs. Blanchard: It works now. I had Charles fix it. He's awfully good at that sort of thing. Although he hates to admit it.
- [afterword]
- Alfred Hitchcock: This concludes our show.
- [puts on bowler hat and hangs umbrella in the crook of his arm]
- Alfred Hitchcock: 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.
- Babs Fenton: It doesn't work. They never do for me. I guess I just don't have a red thumb with lighters.