“DEAD HANDS REACHING” and 9 More #RetroRadio Stories! EP0275 #WeirdDarkness
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The Black Museum. Affiliated stations present Escape. Dinner Sanctum. The Seal. Presents Suspense. I am the Whistler.

Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness' Retro Radio. Here I have the privilege of bringing you some of the best dark, creepy, and macabre old-time radio shows ever created.

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Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into Weird Darkness' retro radio. The CBS Radio Mystery Theater presents...

Come in. Welcome. I'm E.G. Marshall. Yes, it is rather dark in here. You see, we never turn on the lights. We don't need any. At Radio Mystery Theater, all we illuminate is your imagination.

But do not be concerned. Although it has been said that when one is alone in the darkness, one hears strange things. Let no one enter these hallowed halls, because none shall look upon the sacred golden cauldron of the Druids. A strange voice.

A voice from the moldering past. What has a sacred golden cauldron and the strange cult of the ancient druids to do with us?

Even the mention of the word druid evokes a frightening display of pyrotechnics from the atmosphere. Why does contemporary man still fear prehistoric rituals from the past? Brad, please don't ask the old man any more questions. Look at his face. It's beginning to turn darker than the storm outside.

Forgive me if my questions are in bad taste, sir. My interest in crime is a hobby, as is my interest in the occult. They would not make light of the power of the druids, Mr. Spencer. It reaches out beyond the confines of this castle. Beyond Stonehenge. Beyond the grave. Ah!

Our mystery drama, The Golden Cauldron, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Ralph Goodman and stars Paul Hecht. It is sponsored in part by Sinoff, the sinus medicines, and Anheuser-Busch Incorporated, brewers of Budweiser. I'll be back shortly with Act One.

Golden Cauldron? The power of the Druids reaching out beyond the grave in this, the 20th century?

Come with me to Albion Castle, a crumbling remnant of the past as it exists today. A storm rages outside, but safe for the moment are two American tourists who have come here for a skeptical look into the legend of the Druids. In the great hall of the castle above the fireplace, there is a graven image of a Druid god.

There is something hypnotic about this strange carved deity that is being examined by Brad Spencer, the young man who does not frighten easily. And yet, the statue is holding Brad in its spell. Well, Brad, I see you've met the lord of the castle.

The likeness of the all-powerful Celtic god. Is that what he looked like, Peter? Well, I've never seen him, but when I guide the tour groups around Stonehenge, that's the face I describe. Looks rather frightening, doesn't he? The tourists love it. It's a moody climate. Oh.

Let's change the subject, Peter. Maybe the weather will improve. Don't tell me this druid nonsense is getting to you. No, of course not. It might worry Dennis. You don't know how his childish mind functions. Come to think of it, I'm not too sure how it functions myself. Ha, ha, ha.

As long as he can earn enough money to afford that brand new Rolls Royce you two arrived in, I'm sure you don't care. That's true. I'm a sponge. Soak up the wealth I find around me. Never work if I can help it. But Dennis is no worse than I am. He didn't earn his millions. He inherited them. I can't wait to meet him. How are the tours going? Jammed, as usual, this time of year.

But I'm beginning to lose interest. Not in Stonehenge. Oh, no. That always fascinates me, just as this image of their Celtic god seems to fascinate you. Oh.

You may be bored with your work, Peter, but I find this crumbling old castle an endless source of amusement. Amusement? Research, old buddy. You may be interested to know that I'm getting close to the solution of the ancient Albion mystery. Don't tell me you're still checking out that old legend. Legend, Peter? Or fact? You must have picked up a lot of information about the druids that could be of help in clearing up the strange legend about the tragic death of the archdruid Albion.

and his secret love, the beautiful Helen. I wouldn't discuss it here if I were you. Brad? Brad, where are you? Here, Dennis. Oh, thank heaven. I thought I was alone in a spooky place. What's going on out there? An atomic blast? Relax, Mr. Wentworth. Just one of our usual summer evening showers. Oh! You know my name? I mean, you had most of it, only you left out the third.

The third? Yeah, you know, Dennis Wentworth III. I don't think Grandfather was happy with the first two. That's why he left his fortune to Dennis. It's not a fortune, but it's enough. I think I'll go back to my room. Now, wait. We're going to have some brandy. I'll be out in a minute, as soon as I change my shirt. Oh, make mine a double, Dennis.

Uh, now to, uh... Get back to the legend. No need to get the fact secondhand. That old car out there, the one that just pulled up in the driveway? Yeah. It belongs to Siculus. Who? Siculus. Siculus Loughbridge. One of the oldest residents of this area. It's

Some believe he was once an archdruid himself. You don't say. I'd like to meet him. You will. He haunts this castle. Haunts it? Nice old guy, but sort of fanatic.

Knew the Albion clan personally, they say. He keeps coming up here in search of the Lost Cauldron. Lost Cauldron? Yeah, the golden cauldron engraved with the head of a Celtic god. He believes it's buried with the skeletons of Albion and the witch Helen. Now I know I want to meet him. The housekeeper will make the introductions. We're very formal around here. Basil! Basil!

Please attend to the front door. Yes, Mistress Margaret. Ah, Siculus, so good of you to give this young lady a lift to the end. Oh, yes. And all this downpour. You have no idea how I appreciate this. Oh, it has been my pleasure. Youth and beauty is always bright in the eyes of the ancient. You mean like the beautiful Helen affected those who looked upon her?

Who is this stranger? Don't be angry, Siculus. He's a guest, a visitor from America. He meant no insult. None at all. Peter, oh, Mr. Brooke here was just discussing an old druid legend, and I was... Oh, this is Mr. Brad Spencer. You, of course, know Peter. Yes, we have spoken on occasion. Mr. Spencer, this is Siculus Lothbridge, a respected elder of our community. Most happy to meet you, sir.

See to the young girl, Margaret. She is chilled to the marrow. Yes, Siculus. Basil, take the young lady's bags to the upper floor. Oh, just a moment, please. I don't mean to cause any trouble, but my letter specified a room off the Great Hall.

We didn't receive any letter. Well, then, how did you know that I was arriving today? Siculus foretold of a third visitor. A young woman, tall, slender, with blonde hair. The man's amazing. All we have is a room on the upper floor. Now, wait a minute. Would you like my room, Miss... Julie. Julie.

Julie Chandler. Yes, I would, Mr. Spencer. Oh, then it's done. Basil, you may show the lady to my room and place my bags on the upper floor. You're sure, sir, that this is not an inconvenience? Ordinarily, yes, but for an unexpected third visitor, tall, slender, with long blonde hair, who am I to tempt the wrath of fate? Thank you again, Mr. Spencer. Oh, Brad, please. Brad. I'll just hang on to this small bag, Basil. You may carry these others to Mr. Spencer's... Oh! Ah!

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bump into you like this. My name's Dennis. Mine is Julie. You dropped your purse, Julie. Here it is. Thank you, Brad. Oh, I see you two are already acquainted. I was just coming out of my room. And I was going into mine. It looks like you and I are going to be neighbors, Dennis. Mr. Spencer was nice enough to trade rooms with me. Oh, terrific. See you later, gentlemen. Yeah. Yeah.

Wow. Beautiful blonde in the room next to mine. Thanks, Brad. Things are looking up. Try looking in this direction, toward the fire. We have another visitor who's not so pretty. The old man? Yeah, just arrived with Miss Chandler. You're right. He isn't pretty. Wow, what a weird face. Must be over 100 years old. Make yourself at home, gentlemen. And you, Siculus, of course, are always welcome here. Thank you, my lady. Thank you.

I'm merely the housekeeper here. Who is the soul of a lady, nonetheless. Basil will bring some brandy. If you'll excuse me, I have my work to attend to. Certainly. If the fire burns low, please tend to it, Peter. It's the only source of heat here. I will, Margaret.

Rather attractive for a housekeeper. She's been looking after this place since Sir Lawrence left. Introduce your friend to our visitor from the village, Brad. Oh, yes, Mr. Lothbridge. This is Dennis Wentworth III. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lothbridge.

What do you know of the Druids? Uh, uh, nothing, uh, nothing. Uh, uh, Peter was telling me all about this place. It was tragic about the poor girl, her lover. You mean Lady Elaine? Lady Elaine?

The recent murder of Lady Elaine and the disappearance of her husband, Sir Lawrence. No, we're referring to the tragic murder of Archdruid Albion and the beautiful witch, Helen. That happened hundreds of years ago. We speak of that no longer. Lady Elaine was murdered a few months ago. There were three murders in this castle? In this room.

I'm leaving. Oh, come off it. Stop being so nervous. I can't help it. Murders, thunderstorms, old castles. They make me jumpy. A young woman was murdered here. Right where your young friend, Mr. Wentworth, is standing. Thanks a lot. The police have investigated, but until they find Sir Lawrence... I don't follow. Elaine's husband, Sir Lawrence, thought his lady was cheating on him. He confronted her.

An argument followed. He became enraged and shot her, point blank, through the heart. Death was instantaneous. And the murderer, Sir Lawrence, is missing. Yes, he's still at large. He could be hiding somewhere around nearby in the caves or in the village. Uh, Brad, you sure you don't want us to leave? Just when things are starting to get interesting. A poor girl has been foully murdered. What?

Why do you find this interesting? Oh, I'm in sympathy with the girl. But the thought that the murderer is at large... possibly stalking this castle, his castle... This is Archdruid Albion's castle. Yes, sir. As you say, sir. Sir Lawrence bought it for amusement. He is not from this land. He is a stranger to Stonehenge...

The foreigner's presence here has defiled the sacred memory of Albion. I gather Sir Lawrence is not liked by the local townspeople. I only blame Sir Lawrence. I have never held malice toward the poor child he tempted, wed, and then foully murdered. She was innocent.

She had no other lover. You seem sure of that. When Sir Lawrence was not here, she would often send for me. I would stop by to speak with her. That tragic morning, she sent word. She wrote, come tonight. I have something to tell you about Sir Lawrence. It is most urgent. And you arrived too late. Yes. Then it was you who found the body. Yes.

Why do you ask all these questions? I have already told everything I know to the police. I'm sorry if my questions disturb you, sir. It is you who disturbs me.

We will speak of this matter no longer. As you wish. Your reaction is understandable. But you do not seem to be a talkative man by nature. Why have you told us this much? The evil murder has troubled my mind. As I told you, I know the girl's family. Her father was one of us. One of us? Uh...

One of the townspeople. I also know her mother.

The child was most beautiful. Her angelic countenance was known to all who live on these hallowed grounds. Of course, you are referring to the hallowed grounds of the Druids. You speak of it often. As though you were privy to personal knowledge of the Celtic cult. Their rites, their rituals. I understand they practiced human sacrifice. Let's not...

not get into that, Brad, or this murder. It's really none of our business. We just came here for a little sightseeing, right? Right. Oh, tell me, Mr. Lothbridge, you say this murder took place a few months ago and that you arrived the night when the... I must take my leave now. I will not be here at all.

If I had not come to bring the unexpected visitor, Miss Chandler... Whom you somehow expected. Who is she, Mr. Lothbridge? This Julie Chandler? Has she been to Stonehenge before? Brad, please. Mr. Lothbridge is tired, Brad. He'd like to be on his way back to the village. And so would I. Would you give me a lift down the mountain, Siculus? Oh, yes, yes. Come.

But we will speak of no murder. Good night, Mr. Lothbridge. Forgive me if my questions were in bad taste. My interest in crime is a hobby, as is my interest in the occult. I would not make light of the occult, Mr. Spencer. The power of the druids dates back to the Stone Age. It reaches out beyond this castle, beyond Stonehenge.

The odds, the grades. Well, Brad, looks like you made another friend. We're going to need all the friends we can get. What are you talking about? Dennis, we're not leaving. Not until we check out this murder of Lady Elaine and the disappearance of her husband, the mysterious Sir Lawrence Cumberland. Well, what have we here?

Three skeletons that haunt the infamous Albion Castle. Two from one century and one from this. Perhaps the inquisitive Brad Spencer will enlighten us as to the reason for this recent crime of violence. I, for one, hope he hurries before the trio of corpses turns into a quartet or a quintet or a... Well, one thing we know for sure. In a moment, we will be back with Act Two. Act Two

It is a few moments later. Dennis is still staring at his friend Brad in disbelief. Despite the ominous threat of death, Brad has announced his intention of staying on at the Albion Castle to probe the recent murder of Lady Elaine.

The impulsive decision has frightened Dennis. You can stay on and check out these weird people if you like, Brad, but not me. I'm, uh, I'm too rich to die. Well, foot. Shall we see if Dennis has nerve enough to walk out the door into the night knowing that the murderer, Sir Lawrence, may be lurking somewhere out there? Sir Lawrence.

You're being childish about this, Dennis. Okay, I'm being childish. I tell you, we're perfectly safe here. Yeah, yeah, yeah, so far. What does that mean? Well, I mean, I have a funny feeling we've been lucky up till now, but if you keep asking questions, we're... These weird people, as you call them, interest me. If you don't ask questions, how do you expect to find anything out? Well, that's what I'm afraid of, finding something out. Once we know something, we're really in trouble. Well...

What was that? Oh, relax. That's just Basil with our brandy. Where? Oh, excuse me. Sorry, sorry, Basil, old man. I move softly around the old place. I do not wish to disturb people. That's thoughtful of you, Basil. I see you've already poured our drinks. Yes, sir. Mistress Margaret is most particular about how I serve the guests. Yours, sir? No, no.

And one for you. I do hope you'll find this to your liking. Thank you. Oh, tell me, Basil, what happened to the dog? The dog, sir? What dog? Oh, I noticed an empty enclosure near the driveway when we arrived yesterday. A dog run.

The name Bruno engraved on a metal plate on the wire fence. Oh, the dog. I'd forgotten for a moment. Poor Bruno. It was Sir Lawrence's dog. Oh, what happened to poor Bruno? He died. A lot of poor things seem to die around here. How did Bruno die? We had to destroy him after Sir Lawrence ran off the animal farm.

Howled all day long. Refused food and drink. Acted strangely. What do you mean, acted strangely? It would no longer enter the castle. Used to sleep there, by the fire. But after Sir Lawrence ran away, it would no longer sleep there. Oh, where did he sleep? There. In the courtyard. On Elvin's grave.

Change behavior. Howling. Became a nuisance. Mr. Lothbridge prepared a potion of gentle poison. I fed it to Brunner. I thought you said it refused food and drink. By then, it was too weak to resist. The poison was lethal. It just went off to sleep.

Never woke up. If you gentlemen need anything else, please... Oh, yes, sir. Thank you. I warned you, Brad. You ask funny questions, they serve you funny brandy. Your imagination is running away with you, Dennis. There's nothing wrong with this brandy. If you're worried, I'll drink mine first. Thank you.

This is delicious. You're sure it's okay? Fine. Go on, take a sip. It won't kill you. Bad joke, Dennis. But drink up. You look like you need a drink. I do. Okay, here goes. Here goes.

Sure needed that. This place gives me the creeps. So I've noticed, particularly when I was asking old Siculus a few questions. There's only one person I'd like to ask a few questions of. Oh? Julie Chandler. Did you get a look at that chassis? I'm dying to ask her three questions. Address, phone number, and if she's married or single. Have another brandy. Yeah, I think I will. The stuff is great. Thank you.

Better make it a double. Why? Here she comes. Yeah. She's slipped into something more comfortable. For her, not for me. Good evening, Miss Chandler. Hello. I must say, you look rather nice tonight.

Thank you. So do you. Yeah. Oh, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dennis. Dennis Wentworth III. I know. We were introduced when I arrived. Oh, yeah, of course. And your friend's name is... Oh, that doesn't matter. He's a bore. A complete bore. Oh. May I pour you some brandy? Yes, thank you. It's okay. We just tasted it. I mean, it's a fine brandy. Oh.

Oh, uh... Brad, if you'll excuse us, the young lady and I... Brad, that's it. Brad Spencer. Is there something wrong with her? No. Just restless. May I sit down? Oh, please, please. Oh, thank you. Uh...

You were saying, Julie... May I call you Julie? Certainly, Dennis. About this being restless... That's why I decided to travel. See new places. I read about Stonehenge and heard about this old castle that's been turned into a sort of inn by Sir Lawrence. And I decided to come here while I was traveling abroad for... Well, the novelty of it. Now, Julie, you know that's not true. Is it?

Isn't it, Brad? No. You've been here before. You knew the rooms off the Great Hall and the name Sir Lawrence isn't mentioned in the travel folder that suggests this inn, as you call it. You haven't been traveling abroad, Miss Chandler. You live abroad. In Ireland. Dublin, as a matter of fact. Well, how...

How would you know that, Brad? Miss Chandler dropped her purse when we were exchanging rooms. I swiped her wallet. Oh, here you are, Miss Chandler. And I thought you were honest. I had hoped you were, too. It's seldom I meet a man who is interested in more than he sees. Thank you. Thank you.

Tell me, Brad, what do you do for a living? Live? Don't you work? At living, yes. How do you feel about me at this very minute? Fascinated. That's encouraging. I'm glad I took the extra time to put my face on just right. Oh, it's not the face I find fascinating. Not that it isn't a very pretty face. It's...

It's what's behind that beautiful mask. What's going on inside that lovely head of yours. Ah, still the analytical male. Haven't you ever made a decision that was impulsive? Yes, once. I discovered it was a foolish one. Would you like to kiss me? Impulsively or analytically? Any way you choose. Wait a minute. You two just met. You're not gonna... Yes, you are.

I found that exciting. I find this depressing. Did it do anything for you, Brad? I don't know. Let's try it again. All right. Now, that's what I call a kiss. That was a shot, you fool. The window is shattered. Yeah, it came from outside the castle. I forget to get down both of you. Whoever that is, he's lurking outside. Sir Lawrence. Perhaps, but how did you know about Sir Lawrence? Well, they told us when... They didn't tell her. Huh.

The front door. It's opening. Peter. Is everyone all right? Well, I thought you left. We did. Siculus had a strange premonition. Said he felt the presence of Sir Lawrence in the wooded area. Beyond the castle grounds. So we returned. I could feel the evil nature of the man. Remain silent.

The link between the living and the dead is still here, just outside this room. Mr. Spencer! Peter! What is happening? That noise I heard... That was a gunshot fired at a distance of, oh, I'd say a hundred yards or so from ground level. Ground level? Wow, but you would know that. Simple. The glass was shattered here at this point of entry, just a few feet from the floor.

And the bullet spent itself here above the fireplace, just over the head of the Druid god. It just took off one of his ears. Sacrilege!

May the heavens might revolve and the evil be bound by chains to eternity. Amen. I mean, let's call the cops and get that guy. We have no telephone. This is an isolated area. The castle was renovated, but it has been impossible to string phone wires up the mountain so that we could have contact with the outside world. Oh, great. That means we're on our own. Sitting ducks for Sir Lawrence. If that was Sir Lawrence out there. What does that mean, Mr. Sherlock Holmes? Simply this.

We aren't sure just who fired that shot as yet. Are we, Basil? I beg your pardon, sir? Now, where were you and Mistress Margaret when the shot was fired? I resent that implication, Mr. Spencer. I'm not implying anything, just sifting through the facts. In that case, I suppose I'm a suspect, too. Oh, I didn't say that, Peter. Well, I was out there with Ciculis...

If we continue along this line of reasoning, both Siculus and I could... No, perhaps one of you, but... Mr. Lothbridge, did you let Mr. Brooke out of the car before you reached the driveway? Yes. I felt a presence. I could sense someone, something was out there. Mr. Brooke asked to be let out.

So he could look around. And you two separated? Yes. And then you heard the shot? Yes. I see. Well, then you are right. It could have been them. No, I never said that, Dennis. Nor did I say it could have been Basil or Mistress Margaret. Mr. Spencer, we are not amused. I am intrigued. And innocent, of course. Can you prove it? I was standing right here next to you when the shot was fired. What about the gun you carry in your purse? You'll find it's not there anymore, Miss Chandler.

What? You're right. It's missing. How did you know I had a gun in my purse? If you recall, when we exchanged rooms, you dropped your purse. I picked it up. As I handed it back to you, I noticed it was rather heavy and felt a slight bulge, the outline of a snub-nosed .38 revolver. You are observant. And this spent bullet...

Embedded here in the wood paneling above the fireplace came from a .38's.

Quite possibly your gun, Julie Chandler. I must say I'm impressed, Mr. Spencer. Well, then that leaves just two of us who aren't suspects. You and me, Brad. Unless you suspect me. No, Dennis, you're safe. Then you're saying that one of us may somehow be involved in this incident. I'm sure the man is joking. I, for one, care not for a man's jokes. And I say to you again...

Ye who enter Albion's castle... those of you who would mock this uneasy resting place... will perish among these ancient stones. This is holy ground...

Coveted by the Celtic god. Agreed. But in case the druid god forgets to covet this place, I suggest we send someone for the police. He's right. We should not wait another minute. All right, then it's settled. While the others remain here in guarded silence, one of us will leave immediately and inform the authorities. One of us? Yes, Peter. But who? The End

An interesting dilemma. Six souls trapped in the remains of a crumbling druid castle, held prisoner by their fears and suspicions of one another. Can Brad Spencer unravel this web of deceit? He and his reluctant traveling companion, Dennis, seem to have stumbled upon an unusual and terrifying vacation spot. They'll have an exciting story to tell when they get back home.

If they get back home, I'll be back shortly with Act Three. The mysterious shot fired at Brad Spencer has aroused his instinctive suspicion of those around him.

It seems Brad is, by nature, an inquisitive man. A man who asks questions. Perhaps too many questions. However, the shot that narrowly missed him and the spent bullet that embedded itself into the wall does not seem to disturb Brad. Let's find out why. Did I hear you right, Brad? No.

A shot was just fired at us by a murderer, and you say we're perfectly safe here. I didn't say perfectly, Dennis. If that shot was fired by Sir Lawrence, we are safe. But it was fired by someone in this room. I resent that accusation, Mr. Spencer. I have warned you all, but you would not listen. There is more than murder afoot in this castle. Until the golden cauldron is found and returned to the kelpie god of the druids.

None of us are safe here. Uh, Siculus, please. Mr. Spencer has a right to be uneasy. That shot was obviously meant for him.

But it was fired by Sir Lawrence, Brad. I can vouch for these people. It had to be Sir Lawrence. If you're right, there's no need to panic. I still don't see why. That shot wasn't fired to kill anyone. It was meant to scare us. And notice how flattened out this spent bullet is. Yeah? It was fired from close range, almost as close as the shot that killed Lady Elaine. Well, maybe Sir Lawrence missed it. Yeah, not likely.

The light in here was bright enough for an expert marksman like Sir Lawrence. How did you know Sir Lawrence was an expert marksman? Oh, this rifle cabinet and these marksmanship trophies belong to the master of the castle, do they not? Yes, they are his. I see. Then you were just trying to be amusing again when you accused us all... Oh, no, no, no, Peter. Just testing the ground. Well, let's stop testing while we're standing up on the ground instead of lying in it six feet under.

Would somebody go for the police? Okay, you're right, Dennis. This is no longer a game. Why don't you get into your role? Peter, Spencer does not control our destinies. I will drive you back to the village. The parents' people must be told of Sir Lawrence's return. Are you coming, Peter? Yes, Sir Gillis. Are you sure you'll all be all right? We have Sir Lawrence's rifles. Good. We'll be back with Inspector Heath as soon as we get.

If we have your permission, Mr. Spencer, Basil and I will secure all doors and windows from the inside. Come, Basil. Yes, Mrs. Spen... You are an interesting man. I just love the way you put two and two together. Now, let's really put two and two together and see if we can come up with one. One suspect.

The man who fired the shot. Then you believe it was a man and not me. Julie, you were standing here right next to me when the bullet came crashing through that window. That's right. But you're confusing me. You did say the shot came from my gun. Or another .38. But let's take one thing at a time. Consider the dog.

The dog. Bruno, Lawrence's dog. Basil said it howled all day long after Sir Lawrence disappeared. They had to destroy it. Basil poisoned it. I don't trust that, Basil. Yes, but why did it howl? It was Sir Lawrence's dog. Why didn't it run off, go searching for its master? Maybe they had it chained up. No, Dennis. If you remember, Basil said it howled all day, and at night it slept out there in the courtyard on

On Albion's grave. Oh, how gruesome. Or how obvious. Obvious? Yeah. You remember that story about, uh, Greyfriars, Bobby, Julie? I'm sure you do, Dennis. They made it into a Disney movie. Oh, yeah, yeah. I saw that about this dog whose master died. Yeah, yeah. Well, go on, Dennis. Oh, Lord. What's the matter? They buried his master. And the dog refused food or drink, howled all day. And at night...

Slapped on its master's grave. Exactly. You don't think that... That's been our problem up until now. We've been kept so busy, we haven't had time to think. Come on, Dennis. Where are we going? Out there in the courtyard to dig up Albion's grave. And what am I supposed to do while you boys are gone? Wait here.

Are you all right, Julie? I am now. It's almost midnight. You've been gone a long time. What did you tell Basil and Margaret while we were gone? I didn't see Basil or Margaret. This place has been as quiet...

as a tomb. Oh, don't mention that word. Then you found something out there at Albion's grave. Yeah, we grabbed some shovels from the garage and now... Yeah, wait, wait, wait, Dennis. Keep your voice down. We still don't know whom we can trust around here, and that includes Julie. Me? You know all about this castle.

You're familiar with the rooms, the grounds, and you've met Sir Lawrence too, haven't you? Yes. What did he look like? Did he have a rather large mustache, long sideburns, and a prominent scar on his face? Yes. Have you seen a picture of him? No, we just saw him.

He's buried in Albion's grave. Oh, no. We only had to turn over a few spadefuls of soft earth and first his hand came through and then the arm and then his head. It was a hurried job. I can't understand why they never moved him.

You said they. Do you think there was more than one murderer? There might have been. But Sir Lawrence was a rather large man. At a dead weight, it would take two or even three. Three? I'm just guessing. Would you mind if we just said two? Basil and Margaret. No motive. They'd have nothing to gain by killing Sir Lawrence or Lady Elaine.

At least nothing we know of at the moment. Well, whoever did it was desperate. Took a lot of nerve to bury Sir Lawrence in Albion's grave. They knew no one would dig it up. Not in this town. Except two turrets like you and Dennis.

Wait. What if Sir Lawrence didn't kill Lady Elaine? Well, it's ridiculous. Everyone said that... Everyone in this household. And the old Van Siculus. But what if someone, the murderer, used a trumped-up quarrel between Sir Lawrence and the Lady Elaine to murder her and make it look like he ran away? This girl's not only beautiful, she's got brains. Then whoever it was...

might be watching us at this very minute. We're back to Mistress Margaret. Perhaps. Think about it. She doesn't seem too unhappy about the death of the lady of the house. With Lady Elaine and Sir Lawrence both out of the way, this house can be run the way she wants it to be run. Yes, temporarily, perhaps. But eventually, she'd have to give it up.

A new owner. She would have no rights. Both she and Basil could be asked to leave. Isn't that so, Julie? Don't confuse me, please. I'm new at this. Well, keep on thinking or we won't be old at it. No, no, no. There's something else going on here. Something we haven't thought of. You're right, Brad. May I

Fill in the empty pieces of the puzzle? Peter. How did you get in? Brad just bolted the front door from the inside. I let him in through the servant's quarters. Stay where you are, please, all of you. This is her gun I have in my hand. Then you were the one who took that shot at me. I'm afraid so. And you were right. I have no intention of hurting you and have none now.

If you cooperate. Well, we'll cooperate. And you are the one... There's no need for further deductions, Brad. You and Miss Chandler were getting so close to the answers, I don't mind telling you what happened here. Oh, please do. It's hard to believe a good friend of mine has turned into a murderer. We don't have to tell them anything, Peter. That's all right, Margaret. We'll be on our way in a minute. There'll be no witnesses. You...

You're not going to kill us, too. Quiet, Dennis. I would like to hear the answers to these questions that have been bothering me. I hate to die an ignorant man. It may come as a surprise to you to know that we didn't kill Lady Elaine. Sir Lawrence did. They'd been quarreling when Peter and I rushed in about his infidelities, not hers. He had just shot her. She died instantly. I struggled with him for the murder weapon. A .38 like this one I'm holding. And he, uh...

He died in the struggle. Margaret helped me bury him. Siculus and Basil were in the village that night. They knew nothing of what went on here. I believe you. Oh, I'm sure you do, Brad. But you don't, Dennis. Nor do you, Miss Chandler. And a jury won't. But if Brad... You're wasting your breath, Miss Chandler. Peter and I have talked this over. We've decided to trust no one except each other. You and Margaret? It's been that way for some time.

Sir Lawrence is dead, and I can't be here when the police arrive tomorrow. There'll be too many questions to answer. What have you done with Siculus and Basil? We left them tied up in the wine cellar. After we leave, you can release them.

All right, let's have the keys to your car, Dennis. The keys? To my brand new Rolls? The sickleless car broke down as we reached the driveway. It can't be driven any further. Yeah, but if you take my car, how do we get out of here? That's the idea. Give them the keys, Dennis. Okay, if you say so. Here. But drive carefully. I love that car. Let's get out of here, Margaret. It'll soon be daylight. I'll be happy to be rid of this awful place. How?

Quick, Julie. Bolt that door from the inside. And Dennis, run to the servants' quarters and bolt that door shut again, too. Right, right. Good thinking, Frank. Now, while you're there, Dennis, release Siculus and Basil from the wine cellar. Castle is secured, Master. But why all the precautions? And why do you have that I've got them where I want them look on your face? Just come to the window and listen. Come on.

It sounds like our culprits are having trouble starting Dennis' car. Is the engine missing? No. But this is. What is that? The coil wire to the distributor. I removed it when Dennis and I were in the garage. The car won't start without it. You knew Peter and Margaret would not be able to get away all along. But I had to give them a chance to make it their decision. No one shall escape this castle of eternal death.

He shall pay for your sins. Sounds like Dennis released Siculus in bed, though. This calls for a drink. Right, Julie, but keep away from the windows. Peter still has your gun, and he must be getting angry by now. I don't blame him. Margaret is beautiful, but having to spend the night in the garage until the police come is nowhere near as romantic as spending the night by the fire with you. Until the brandy goes.

I always did like a detective story with a happy ending.

And having faith in the jury system, both here in America and abroad, I am sure both Peter and Margaret will soon be free of the haunting memory of Albion Castle. As for the Druids, there is a great deal to be said for the fascination Stonehenge has for the archaeologists and astronomers of today. The message of the Druids is still with us. I'll be back shortly. ♪♪

We hope the story you just heard will not cause any embarrassment for the travel agencies in your city. I do hope you will control your urge to rush first thing in the morning and make reservations for a stay at Albion Castle, overlooking the magnificence of the ancient temple of Stonehenge. Don't misunderstand. Don't misunderstand.

Some say the castle is still there, but the price is rather high. To quote our good friend Siculus Lothbridge, let all who enter these hallowed halls in mockery pay for this transgression with their lives. Our cast included Paul Hecht, Patricia Elliott, Clarice Blackburn, Robert Dryden, and Russell Horton. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown.

And now, a preview of our next tale. Miss Gwendolyn Wilkinson? Yes? My name is Inspector Stokes. My credentials. Oh. Well, what can I do for you, Mr... I am afraid that you'll have to come to headquarters. Now? Yes, Miss Wilkinson, now. But why? What's wrong? You're wanted for questioning.

Are you sure you're looking for me, Gwendolyn Wilkinson? Oh, yes, miss. There's no mistake. I don't understand. What is wrong? There has been a murder. A what? A murder? Who? Mr. Hazlitt. Mr. Toby Hazlitt. Oh, but... But that's impossible. I just thought... Who would want to kill Mr. Hazlitt? Mr. Hazlitt.

That's what we'd like to find out from you, Miss Wilkinson. Radio Mystery Theater was sponsored in part by Anheuser-Busch Incorporated, Brewers of Budweiser, and Sinoff, the sinus medicines. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre.

Until next time, pleasant dreams.

We all dream, but for some people, what should be a time for their bodies and minds to rest turns into a nightmare from which they cannot escape. Our next Weird Darkness live stream is Saturday night, December 28th on the Weird Darkness YouTube channel, and during the live broadcast I'll share some of these chilling nighttime stories.

Tales of shadow people, sleep paralysis, and demons who stalk their victims in that place between dreams and reality. I'll share true tales of prophetic dreams, some joyful, some not. Sleepwalking incidents that are both amusing and disturbing. I'll also share real stories of night terrors so horrifying that sleep

became something to fear and dread for those victimized by the night. You might not want to sleep after joining our next live-screen. It's Saturday, December 28th at 5pm Pacific, 6pm Mountain, 7pm Central, 8pm Eastern. On the lighter side, I'll also be responding to comments and questions live on the air and doing a giveaway of some Weird Darkness merch.

Prepare yourself for our next live-screen for chilling tales of what some people must endure in an attempt to get some sleep. Find the details on the live-screen page at WeirdDarkness.com.

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Black warfare, espionage, international intrigue. These are the weapons of the OSS.

In today's adventure... Wine of freedom. The role of Vince Keller, an American OSS agent who made a sales trip inside Hitler Germany, is played by stage and screen star Mel Ferrer, currently to be seen with Joan Fontaine in the RKO picture Born to be Bad. Today's story is suggested by actual incidents recorded in the Washington files of the Office of Strategic Services. A story that can now be told. Night had started to fall by the time I found the house.

I stood out in the papers and peered at it through the shadows. There wasn't anything strange or ominous about it. It was just a white frame house like the kind you see back in Omaha. Only this wasn't in Omaha. This house was number 28 Aarhornstrasse in Osnabrück. And Osnabrück was in Germany, Hitler's Germany. I drew a deep breath and went up the front steps clutching a briefcase in my hand. It was that briefcase that made me look like a respectable German citizen.

I lifted the brass knocker and let it fall a couple of times. And then I waited. Yes? What is it that you want? She was younger than I'd expected. And prettier. And, of course, she was suspicious. You were suspicious of everybody in those days if you were a German. Particularly the kind of German I knew she was. Well? Frau Holzmann? Yes? I'd like to talk to your husband. My... my husband? Herr Ludwig Holzmann. Is he in?

What do you want to talk to him about? Wine. Oh, wine. My name is Keller. I've just come from Bielefeld. I'm a wine salesman. Part of it was true. My name was Keller, all right. Vince Keller. And I had come from Bielefeld, but I wasn't a wine salesman. I was an agent of the OSS. And what I had to sell was something stronger than wine. It was organized resistance to Nazism. I'd been at it for about a year then...

almost a year since I'd sat in Colonel Metcalf's office in London. Ah, Keller. And told him I wanted to volunteer for the job. You're sure that there's no trace of American dialect in your German? Quite sure, sir. My family lived in Germany all through my childhood. I was educated in German schools. Mm-hmm, I see. And, um, you know what you're letting yourself in for, Keller? If the Nazis grab you... I know, Colonel. But you still want to undertake the mission, hmm? It's important, isn't it, Colonel? Yes.

If we can step in the German underground's resistance to Hitler... Ah, the anti-Hitler movement in Germany right now can hardly be called an underground. No, it's merely a handful of isolated individuals in various cities. There's almost no contact between them and no organized activity at all. Well, that won't do us any good when our troops start moving across the German border, sir. Exactly. We need defective allies inside Germany. No matter how few they are, we want them coordinated and strengthened. That's the job we'd like you to do, Lieutenant.

It's the job I'll try to do, Colonel, if the Gestapo doesn't catch up with me. Two weeks later, I'd parachuted into a grassy field outside Dusseldorf, and the Gestapo hadn't caught up with me yet. After Dusseldorf came Essen, and after Essen, Dortmund, and then Bielefeld. And Hitler's secret police were still way behind.

It was at Bielefeld that I heard about Ludwig Holzmann. The underground leader there, old Johann Wolf, slipped me his name. So your work here in Bielefeld is finished, killer. Where'd you go now? Osnabrück, Johann. You'll be hearing from me, though. I want to put the men there in contact with the resistance workers here. We have been in contact occasionally. Now then, Ludwig Holzmann has paid me a visit. Holzmann, huh?

He's the leader in Osnabrück? He was. Last I heard, it's been several weeks. The desk is number 28, Ahornstatter. Well, good enough. I'll look him up when I get there. You'll have no trouble introducing yourself to him since you're posing as a wine merchant. Simply ask him if he has ever tried Dane Fryhite's wine. Dane Fryhite's wine?

The wine of freedom, huh? He will know then that he can trust you and you, of course, can trust him. So that's how it happened that on that September evening, I followed Frau Holzmann into the living room of her home in Osnabrück. Won't you sit down, Herr Keller? My husband should be here soon. He isn't home then? No, he's late this evening.

He's almost always here by dinner time. I don't know where he could... Oh, but wait, yes, I do too. It doesn't matter. I can wait. No, no. I'm sure he stopped in to see a friend down the street. I'll try to find him. But really, I hope you won't. He'll be very eager to talk to you. He's quite interested in wine. Oh? Is he? Yes. He would not want to keep you waiting.

You stay right here and make yourself comfortable. I'll get him. Wouldn't it be easier to call your friend's house on the telephone? The telephone? I wish I could, Herr Keller, but we had a heavy air raid in Osnabrück last night. The telephone is out of order. It was a hasty exit she made. Almost too hasty. I sat there in that empty house for a minute or two where she had said to make myself comfortable. But somehow I wasn't, Harry.

So I got up and went over to the telephone. What number do you wish? I was under the impression, operator, that this line is out of order. You're mistaken, sir. This line has not been out of order today. That gave me something to think about while I waited. I think better when I'm moving. So I began to move around the Holtzman house. I peeked into rooms, even opened drawers, but I didn't find anything.

In fact, I didn't even know what I expected to find. When the front door opened, I was back in the living room trying to look comfortable. I was right, Herr Keller. I found him drinking beer with our friend. Caught in the act, eh, Herr Holzman? I'm afraid so. Well, please sit down, Herr Keller. Thank you. You are a wine salesman, my wife tells me. Yes, I am.

And she tells me that you're very interested in wine. That's true. Sort of a connoisseur, perhaps? You might say so, yes. Like our mutual friend in Bielefeld, who suggested that I call on you. And who was that, Herr Keller? What was his name? It must have been the lie Frau Holzmann had told about the telephone that made me hold back. It must have been the way she stood there, listening so intently, so eagerly.

That was why I brushed aside his question, and that was why I said nothing about the wine of freedom, even when he asked, Tell me, Herr Keller, do you carry a dry red wine at reasonable prices? Yes, we have an excellent Burgundy, Herr Holzmann. From where? Why, from Chambertin. Ah, Chambertin. What year, Herr Keller? Ah, 1927. 1927? Huh?

I don't think we'd be interested in buying any of your wine. But, Herr Wolfgang... In fact, we'd appreciate if you'd go peddle it somewhere else. Now, wait a minute. Any authentic wine merchant would know that the great frost of 1927 killed the crops of Charbertin. You might tell the Gestapo that before they send you out again. I caught on then and I almost laughed.

He thought I was a Gestapo agent. That explained it. Maybe it even explained his wife's peculiar behavior. I've been too busy suspecting them to consider how deeply they must have been suspecting me. Here's your hat, Herr Keller, in your case. Thanks, Hoffman. But before I go, there's another wine you might enjoy. So? What is it? Dane Fryhide wine. Have you ever tried it? Yes, I have. You like it?

Oh, I like it very much. Perhaps you'd care to hear a little more about it. Why, on me, sir, you should have mentioned that before. Now sit down, her killer, and tell me, tell me all about the wine of freedom. After that, we were all friends. Nobody suspected anybody anymore. I told them what I'd accomplished in Bielefeld and the other towns, what I hoped to accomplish in Osnabrück,

Their eyes glowed as they heard of the growing strength of the anti-Hitler forces within Germany. Then we are not as isolated as we sometimes think, Herr Keller. You have a lot of friends, Frau Holtzmann. My job is to put you in touch with them. And how will you do that? Well, I'd like to start with a meeting of your friends here in Osnabrück. How many are there? Only a few we actually know personally, maybe six seconds. Well, that's enough. You think you could get them all together in a safe place tomorrow night? Tomorrow night? Oh, yes.

We would have to work quickly. It could be done, though. I think so, yes. Yes, I'm sure it could, but I'd have to start working on it right away. By phone? Well, we never use the phone here unless it's urgent.

In front of strangers, you even pretend it's out of order, huh? Oh, you checked up on me after I left here, Keller. Well, I was even beginning to wonder if you were a Gestapo agent yourself, Frau Hochmann. Oh, you needn't wonder anymore, Herr Keller. Linda is as reliable as I am. You can trust her just as you would trust me. And then he left me alone with her while he went out to start rounding up his friends.

She insisted I must be hungry, and she led me out into the kitchen and gave me the dinner she'd cooked for her husband. Poor Ludwig. I don't suppose he'll get anything to eat tonight. He should have eaten before he left. Oh, you do not know him, Herr Keller. This underground work is his life. Food means nothing to him. He goes without sleep. He never has a moment of pleasure. Nothing matters to him but fighting the nun. Not even I, the woman he met. I guess that's the way a man gets in the underground after a while. Yes.

He gets hard and cold and calmed, like Ludwig Holtzmann. Well, never mind that. If you will excuse me, Herr Keller, I want to go upstairs and get your room ready. You'll sleep here tonight, of course. Well, don't go to a lot of trouble, please. No, no, it will take but a moment. You finish your dinner. I'll be right down. But the strange thing was that she never went up. At least I didn't hear her go up. I waited for her footsteps on the stairs, and when there was no sound, I left the table and pushed open the door a crack.

I saw her then in the living room. But her back to me, her head bent over the telephone. I can't explain to you now. I heard her too. No, no, don't ask me. Just do what I tell you. Don't come here. Whatever you do, meet me by the bandstand in the park. Be there in half hour and wait for me. I'll come as soon as I can. Frau Holzmann could do a lot of tricks with the telephone. I wondered if she could explain away the second one as easily as she'd explained away the first.

I didn't ask her, though. I let her show me up to my room a half hour later, and I told her good night. Good night, Herr Keller. If you need anything, call me. I'm in the room at the end of the hall. You're going to retire now, Frau Holtmann? Yes, I think I will. I'm very tired. I don't believe I'll wait up for Ludwig. Well, thanks again. Not at all. Good night. Good night.

I'd been tired myself, but I felt wide awake then. I went to bed, though. That is, I went through the motions of going to bed with all the proper sound effects. I let my shoes drop loudly on the floor. Then, after I'd quietly put them on again, I opened the window and flicked the light switch. After that, I waited silently by the door. She must have taken off her own shoes to tiptoe down the stairs because I didn't hear her go. But she shouldn't have let the front door close quite so hard.

I did hear that. Then I moved fast. Out of the bedroom, and down the stairs, and out the front door. But I closed it quietly. She must have been 30 yards ahead of me when I reached the street. I didn't try to close the distance between us. It was easy enough to follow her. The sidewalks were practically deserted. She didn't look back once. A woman who's walking as eagerly, as determinedly as Linda Holtzman was walking doesn't bother to look back. We reached the park in 20 minutes.

It was deserted, too. She stayed on the gravel walk, and I slipped through the bushes. And then I did close in on her. She approached the bandstand. A figure separated itself from the shadows and came toward her. Linda. I was crouching behind the shrub three feet away by then. Here I am. I saw that the figure wore a Nazi uniform. Oh. What's happened? Why did you call me? I'll tell you. I'm just... He kissed her, and they were both lost in it.

So lost, they didn't even hear the planes start whining through the night. I heard them, but I didn't move. There was something else I had to hear. Something that might prove more fatal than a British bomb. What was the meaning of the telephone call? We'd better get to a shelter. There's one at the other end of the park. Come on, Paul, hurry. But tell me first what has happened. We won't be able to talk in the shelter. It's an OSS agent. What? An American spy. He's at my house now. An American spy? He's not a book.

The Nazi was right. It was too late to run. The Tommies were dropping bombs all over town. Linda followed his advice and so did I. I flung myself on the soft ground behind those shrubs. The last bomb landed in the park. I raised my head at last. There was only a pile of rubble in the past ten days.

I heard the Nazi calling her name. There was something in his voice that brought me to my feet. It was the tone of a man who crawls when he doesn't expect an answer. Linda, do you hear me? Caught him, him. He's dead. Anything I can do, soldier? Just nothing anyone can do.

He's dead. You sure? Yeah. That's right, sure. Come on, I'll get you to a doctor. No, no, I have no time now for doctors. Later, maybe. But there's something I must do first. I'm not hurt. I could do it for you. No, no, I'd do it myself. This information that the Gestapo must have immediately. He turned away and went lunging off. You don't like to do such things. But if a man's a Nazi and if he's going to betray you to the Gestapo, I raise my gun...

There are other things you don't like to do either. You don't like to tell a man that his wife is lying dead in the park. Or what she was doing there before she died. Not if she was kissing a Nazi soldier and selling the underground movement down the river. But I knew it had to be done. I went back to the big hostman's house...

He'd already come home and was waiting for me. Ah, Herr Keller, I have news for you. I have news for you, too. Bad news. But mine is good. It's all arranged already. Oh. All arranged. The meeting you mean. Of course, the meeting. Tomorrow night at 11 o'clock. There's a bombed-out church on the highway north of the tower. There's no danger of being interrupted because the church is never used anymore. I rounded up every friend I could. There will be seven at the meeting, possibly eight. Good work, Holstmann. Danke, Herr Keller.

But, uh, what did you want to tell me? Well, it's your wife. My wife? She... Look, my friend, there's no way of breaking this to you gently. Never mind. Just tell me. What about my wife? She's dead, Holzman. She's... She was killed in the raid tonight. Oh, no, no. It isn't possible. I'm sorry, Holzman. My, my, my, I just...

I just can't believe it. I cannot think. I know how hard it is for you to... No, no, you don't. You couldn't know because you never knew what she meant. Easy, Holstmann.

I just can't help it. I'm sorry about it. It's so hard to face. You've faced a lot of hard things in these last few years. I guess you'll manage to face this. Those were nothing. Linda was everything to me. Nothing else mattered. She was my whole life. I sat there and felt like a heel because his grief left me cold. I suppose I should have felt sorry for him, but I didn't. There was something wrong somewhere. There was a phony note in his sorrow that I couldn't put my finger on.

Not then at least. Later on that night, after I'd helped him to his room, after I'd gone to bed myself and lay in the darkness thinking about it, I began to understand. Cold and like Ludwig Holtzmann. It was her voice, Wiener Holtzmann's voice, that told me. Nothing, nothing but fight. Not even I, the woman he married. But how did that jive with the sobbing, grief-stricken husband I'd just seen? And after all...

Why should a man who'd fought the Nazis, who'd lived with death for ten years... Why should he collapse so completely at the news of one more death? Even the death of his wife. Well, yes, something was wrong somewhere. Something was very definitely wrong. I thought I knew what it was. And if I was right, then the Fuhrer's secret police were breathing down my neck. He was still sleeping when I slipped out of the house the next morning. I didn't go far.

Just across the street and two doors down to number 21, Ahornstrasse. Yes? What is it you want? I'm sorry to disturb you so early. I wonder if you could help me. I'm a stranger in town. I'm looking for the Holzmann residence. Holzmann? Across the street, two doors that way, number 28. Thank you very much. You're welcome. Good day. Excuse me. I think I have the right party, don't I? That is Herr Ludwig Holzmann's house, isn't it?

It was his house. Oh? Doesn't he live there anymore? Ludwig Holtzman died three weeks ago. And then I knew I was right. I turned away from the door, but I didn't have any place to go. So I turned back again. And the man in the doorway was still standing there, still staring at me thoughtfully. Excuse me.

Why did you want to see Ludwig Holtzmann? Well, I'm a wine merchant. I didn't know he was dead. I thought he might be interested in some wine. I see. Strong wine? Very strong. A special kind called... Called der Freiheit Wein. You're familiar with it? Yes, I'm familiar with it. Perhaps I could interest you. Perhaps you could. Won't you step in? I followed him into his house.

And then I took a chance. I told him who I was and why I'd come to Osnabruck and what had happened since I arrived. I see. Then the real Ludwig Holtzmann is dead. He was killed by the Gestapo, Herr Keller. His own wife betrayed him. Honey, that's just how I had it figured. Fortunately, she doesn't know who the rest of us are or she would betray us too. Not anymore. She was killed in the raid last night.

She what? That doesn't exactly break your heart, I imagine. On the contrary, it saves us the trouble of someday killing her ourselves...

But you say she introduced another man to you as her husband? She must have had orders to report anyone who came looking for Ludwig. She went out and brought this man back with her. A tall, thin chap with a black mustache. Ah, yeah. Fritz Havel, probably. One of the most powerful Gestapo agents in Osnabrück. Nice company I've been keeping lately. That's what I don't understand. Why didn't he turn you over immediately? What is he waiting for? For the meeting tonight, probably. Meeting? Meeting?

He knows I'm planning to talk about the underground work in neighboring cities. I see. He figures you'll pick up a flock of names. Yeah, yeah. He'd never ask me for the names directly for fear he'd look suspicious. Ah, yeah, but who does he intend to bring to such a meeting? Some more Gestapo agents, I imagine. Maybe he's bringing them over from Dortmund and Bielefeld. And he hopes you will give him useful information, huh? Sure. It's a nice setup.

They'll sit around and scribble down everything I say. Then when they've milked me, they'll spring me up. How lucky that you came to my door. Now you can escape, Herr Keller. Escape? No, I don't think so. What do you mean? Seven or eight Gestapo agents all gathered under one roof. That's awfully inviting. But you can't go to that meeting. Why not? They don't know I know who they are. You will never get out alive. I'm not so sure.

I was pretty cocky then, but by the time night came, I'd lost a lot of it. I'd had to put on an act for Fitzhabel all day, pretending I still thought he was Ludwig Holtzmann, pretending I trusted him and was sorry for his great loss. By 11 o'clock, when he and I slipped up the moonlit path that led to the church, my nerves were pretty thin. I'd taken a lot of risks since I'd come to Germany, but I'd never walked into a meeting of Gestapo agents before, every one of whom knew who I was.

They're here already. You see her, Keller? I saw. Through the clouds of cigar smoke, I saw the narrow, hungry eyes that turned on me. I saw the half-hidden smiles. I sensed the laughter inside them. My friends, my friends, you know why we are meeting here tonight. You know that here, my side is a man, an American,

He had the courage to come into this land of terror to help us. In spite of his powerful age, he made quite a production of us. He went on for five minutes building me up. And all the while I could hear that silent, mocking laughter. He has succeeded. And so now, Herr Keller will tell us of the work he has been doing in other German cities. He will give us the names of our brothers who are fighting in the same cause for which we fight.

He will teach us how to fight more effectively, how to bring closer the day of final victory. I present Herr Keller, the American. Thanks, Herr Holtzmann. Brothers and friends, my plans have changed somewhat. I did intend to tell you about the resistance movement in other cities, but I find that the resistance movement here in Osnabrück is quite impressive. So I decided to show you an example of that instead. What is this? I don't know.

If you look around you, you'll get a real lesson in how we fight. How we bring closer the day of final victory. It took them a minute to catch on, but not long. Then they turned and they saw what I was pointing at. They saw the guns of the underground that were shoved through every bombed out window. They died, all eight of them.

Well, Colonel Metcalf had told me to help make the German underground strong and effective. He said it had to be organized. It was pretty well organized that night in Osnabrück. And later in Dortmund, Bielefeld, Essen, Dusseldorf. Soon, due in large part to Lieutenant Vince Keller of the OSS, the resistance was well organized throughout Nazi Germany.

And once again, the report of another OSS agent closes with the words, Mission accomplished. Listen again next week for another true adventure from the files of the OSS. And dagger.

Heard in today's Cloak & Dagger Adventures, Vince Keller was Mel Ferrer, star of Stage & Screen. Hebel was Herbert Berghoff, Linda Frances Robinson. Others were Ralph Bell, Raymond Edward Johnson, Bill McCurer, Ian Martin, and Carl Webber.

Script was written by Ken Field and music was under the direction of John Garth. Sound effects by Chet Hill and Jerry McGee. Engineering by George Vos. Today's OSS adventure was based on the book Cloak and Dagger by Corey Ford and Alistair McBain. This program was produced by Louis G. Cowan and Alfred Hollander. Here is a bulletin from the NBC newsroom. Governor Dewey of New York has endorsed the NBC Republican presidential candidate.

as General Eisenhower. During the NBC television program Meet the Press, Dewey declared again that he himself will not be a candidate. Then Dewey, as titular head of the GOP, said that he would urge support of Eisenhower if the general will permit himself to be nominated. Keep tuned to your NBC station for the later news. This is NBC, the national broadcasting company. ♪

Hey Weirdos, our next Weirdo Watch Party is Saturday, January 18th and sci-fi film host and all-around nice guy Jukesua is back with another terrible B-movie – this one from the infamously inept Roger Corman. From 1958 it's "War of the Satellites" "And yet you propose to follow this tenth failure with another attempt?"

Using more of your volunteers? An unknown force declares war against planet Earth when the United Nations disobeys warnings to cease and desist in its attempts at assembling the first satellite in the atmosphere. We are obviously in the grip of a force stronger than we can oppose. It's a movie eight weeks in the making, and it shows on every frame of film. See the last few seconds with a wire holding up a planet.

See the satellites spinning in different directions every time you see them. There it is, the barrier. All those men in that satellite will die. See shadows somehow being cast onto the backdrop that is supposed to be outer space. Sigma barrier dead ahead. Crashing emergency. All hands secure for blast. You'll even see actors wearing the same clothes day after day after day because...

Who knows? War of the Satellites! Join us online as we all watch the film together on January 18th at 7pm Pacific, 8pm Mountain, 9pm Central, 10pm Eastern on the Monster Channel page at WeirdDarkness.com. The Weirdo Watch Party is always free to watch – just tune in at showtime and watch the movie with me and other Weirdo family members

and even join in the chat during the film for more fun. We're always cracking jokes during the movie, usually at the actor's or director's expense, but hey, it's all worthy of criticism. It's Jukesua presenting Roger Corman's War of the Satellites from 1958.

You can see a trailer for the film now and watch horror hosts and B-movies for free anytime on the Monster Channel page at WeirdDarkness.com. That's WeirdDarkness.com slash TV. And we'll see you Saturday, January 18th for our Weirdo Watch Party.

♪♪♪

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Good evening, all. I'd like to tell you of an interesting theory in regard to time. There are some who say that the past is never gone, that it still exists on a different plane. Everything that has happened in the world continues to be, although mortals are unable to see it. Let me put it this way. You're riding in a motor car along a one-way street. You pass a magnificent palace which you greatly admire.

The street makes a turn, and your car turns with it. Now the palace is out of sight. You can't see it anymore, but it still exists. It's still there on the one-way street, only you're not permitted to go back for another glimpse.

The past, like the palace, has not disappeared. You merely haven't been gifted with the ability to return to it. So the theory goes. At any rate, suppose I told you I could take you into the past. Suppose I could flip back the years like the pages of a book once read... and give you a second reading. What period would you choose to return to? The golden age of Pericles in Greece...

A Napoleonic even? Oh, you can't make up your mind, huh? Then let me make the choice on your behalf. I don't think you'll be disappointed. London, 1900. The gaslight and the handsome cab. Cobbled streets and staid old English houses, mysterious and romantic. And to complete the picture...

We'll choose a very foggy night to visit Loring Square. Well, we're here, Lily. Help me down, Frederick. Of course. There. Here you are, Carrie. Much obliged, Governor. Now, come along, Lily. Oh, it's so good to be home, Frederick.

I'm glad you decided to keep your house. I've always admired it so. Well, it's your house now, my darling. And you can live with it as you see fit. Now, where did I put my keys? Here we are. Thank you. Yes, my dear.

The cabbie's still there. Eh? What? There he is. Something you want, cabbie? No, no. I beg pardon, governor. Come on. Open the door now. I said get out of here. Why were you staring at us in that way? I haven't the slightest idea. He may have possibly had a nip or two, eh?

Now, put your arms around my neck, sweet. Here, on the street? I'm going to carry you across the threshold. Come on, it's the custom, you know. Oh, darling. There you are, Mrs. Franklin. You can now consider yourself officially married. Put me down, darling. You know, I love you very much.

And I love you, Frederick. Welcome home, Mr. Spangler. Oh, thank you, Mrs. Flint. This is your new mistress. How do you do, ma'am? How do you do? I hope you'll find the house in satisfactory condition, ma'am. I've been scrubbing and cleaning it for over a week now. It looks splendid, Mrs. Flint. I did everything but the cellar, Mr. Spangler. Oh? Oh?

I wanted to wait until there was a man in the house before I went down there. The place is so dark and damp it gives me the creeps. I'll put your things away, ma'am. Is your luggage outside, sir? I'll pick them up myself, Mrs. Flynn. It's quite all right, sir. I can manage. Thank you.

She's rather odd, isn't she? Odd? Her manner, I mean. Mrs. Flint is rather superstitious. But you'll get used to her after a while. I've had her for only a month, but I find she's very competent. I'm sure we'll be good friends. Do you want me to bring these bags up to the north room, sir? The north room?

Why not the master suite? Well, sir, I was thinking that the mistress had preferred... Bring the bags to the master suite, Mrs. Flint. Do you understand? Just as you say, sir. Why were you irritated just now, Frederick? Oh, well, there are times when Mrs. Flint shows less than her usual amount of tact. Joyce and I had always occupied the master suite. I suppose Mrs. Flint imagined that you might prefer to change. Joyce was my senior, Frederick, as well as your wife.

And then they can never become a cause for tact between us. I mean... I know what you mean, Lily. And it makes me very happy. Joyce was a wonderful woman. I never thought I'd find an even finer one in you. Let's look around. It seems so long since I've been here. Well, nothing's been changed. I've left it all the way it was when... when Joyce died. Poor Joyce.

It must have been horrible. I'm sure she never knew what happened. It must have been awful for you too, Frederick. It's something I'd just as soon try to forget completely. Yes. This picture of Joyce on the piano is very nice. I'm sorry, I meant to get rid of that. Get rid of it? Why? Isn't it obvious, Lily? But I don't... Well, I do!

I'm sorry, Lily. I didn't mean to snap at you. Richard, darling. Don't you realize how I feel about Joyce? You have no reason to be upset. I'm not upset, Lily. Now let me have the picture. Give it to me, please. Very well. I'll put this away for good. The bags are in your room, sir. Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you, ma'am? Not right now, thank you, Mrs. Flint. Mrs. Flint...

Did you know the first Mrs. Spangler? Oh, no, ma'am. I've only been here a month. Oh, that's right. Mrs. Spangler just mentioned it to me. She must have been a lady of taste, ma'am. This house was even prettier when I first came here. Before the master started to get rid of all her things. But he told me he hadn't changed anything. Oh, he's done a lot of changing. That picture over there is the only thing that...

Why? It's gone. Yes. Mr. Spandler just took it away. Peculiar, isn't it? What is? The way those things upset him. I'll never forget what a rage he flew into when I started to go through Mrs. Spandler's trunk in the attic. The first Mrs. Spandler, that is. He shouted at me and told me to mind my... Mrs. Flint!

I believe you have some work to do in the kitchen. Yes, so I have. Excuse me, please. Talking is another one of her habits which could stand improvement. What was she saying to you, just then? Why, she was telling me about... About what, Lily? Nothing, Frederick. Nothing at all. Oh!

Come in. Good morning, ma'am. Oh, good morning, Mrs. Flynn. I brought your breakfast. Oh, that was very sweet of you. Mr. Sander left the house over half an hour ago. He told me to give you these keys. Oh, they're the house keys? Yes. They're all there.

Except the key to the attic. Where's that one? Mr. Spangler keeps it himself. He does? Why? That's something I never had the right to ask him, ma'am. Someone's at the front door. You can leave the chair, Mrs. Clinton, aren't you? Who'd come calling at this hour of the morning? Yes? Is this Mr. Spangler's residence? Yes.

Is Mr. Stangler at home? No, sir. The mistress is in. The mistress?

You mean Mrs. Spangler? The new Mrs. Spangler. Oh, I see. I'd like to talk to her, if I may. My name is Markham. Come in, sir. Thank you. You'll have to wait a bit. The mistress is just getting up. I'm in no hurry. I'll tell her you're here, sir. I'd appreciate it. The name was Markham, sir? Inspector Markham of Scotland Yard. Oh, Inspector Markham of Scotland Yard.

Good morning. Good morning, Mrs. Spangler. I'm sorry to disturb you. Oh, that's quite all right. What can I do for you, Inspector? I was hoping to see Mr. Spangler. I thought it might be wiser to discuss this matter with him. He won't be home until this evening. Well, in that case, perhaps I'd better relay my message to and through you. What message, Inspector? It's...

rather awkward to discuss it under the circumstances. I hope you won't take offense. Oh, I'm sure I won't. I, uh, presume you know the details concerning Joyce Spangler's death? Yes, I think I do. My husband told me about it.

Just what did he tell you? Why, she was in a horrible train wreck several months ago. The Scottish Express to Glasgow. The wreck occurred, that's true. Many people were killed, some of them practically unidentifiable when the bodies were recovered. And then there were some, of course, which were never recovered. I understood that Mrs. Spangler's body was one of those. The wreck occurred as the train was crossing a bridge.

The river is a swift one, and we surmise that some of the victims might have been carried out to sea by the current. That's the way I understood it. According to Mr. Spangler, his wife was aboard that train. She was on her way to visit an aunt in Scotland. Yes. Of course, we only have Mr. Spangler's assurance that she was actually on the train. Just what do you mean, Inspector Markham? Joyce Spangler is now considered to be legally dead.

It has come to my attention, however, that there is a possibility she may not have been aboard that train at all. Ah, good evening, sweet. Good evening, Patrick. Everything go well with you today? I...

I had a visitor. Actually, he wanted to speak with you. A visitor? An Inspector Markham from Scotland Yard. And, uh, just what did he want? I think you'd better see him, Patrick. It's rather important. But what did he have to say? He told me there was a possibility that Joyce was still alive. Joyce?

He told you that? Of course I know. It's ridiculous. How does the eminent inspector from Scotland Yard reach that rather startling conclusion? Doesn't it upset you? Upset me? Why? Well, we are... I mean, you and I... My first wife is legally dead, Lily, and you and I are legally married. The inspector from Scotland Yard is an idiot. Frederick, you can hold the choices there, can't you? Naturally I can. There's nothing to be upset about.

Most idiotic blunder I ever heard of. And Inspector Markham's superior shall hear about it from me. He also asked me a few other questions I couldn't answer. In regard to what? Joyce's estate.

What did he say about Joyce's estate? He wanted to know how much money she left... and to whom the house belonged. Before her death, of course. I see. I told him I believed the house was yours... and that as far as I knew, Joyce left no money. It was only a guess, but I was right, wasn't I? You were wrong, Lily. Wrong? It's something that's too obvious to hide.

Besides, what have I to hide? Me. I inherited the house and 50,000 pounds in cash when Joyce was killed.

Well, are you enjoying your visit? Do you find it unique to return to the past, to roll back the years and witness an episode in the lives of two people? Yes, two people who existed over 50 years ago in London, while Victoria was still the queen. And for all we know, according to that theory of time I mentioned before, those two and their drama of life and death may still exist today.

I beg your pardon, Mrs. Stangler. There's a Mrs. McIntosh here to see you. Mrs. McIntosh? Is she home? Yes, ma'am. This way, please. Thank you, thank you. Good evening, Mrs. Stangler. Good evening. I guess you don't know who I am. I'm afraid I don't. I'm Joyce Stangler's aunt. Oh. Oh, yes. You live in Scotland, don't you? She's mentioned something about me then. Aren't you the aunt Jess was going to visit when she was...

When she was killed? Yes. Poor child. She was on her way to spend a week with me in Glasgow, or so the story goes. I beg your pardon?

Is your husband at home, Mrs. Spangler? No, he's not. Good. I was hoping I wouldn't have to meet him. I've no use for the likes of Frederick Spangler. Mrs. McIntosh, haven't you forgotten that you happen to be referring to my husband? I haven't forgotten it. And I'm saying it for your own good. Why are you here, Mrs. McIntosh? I understand there's a picture of my niece in the house.

A picture I should be pleased to have, if it's all the same to your husband. If you ask him for it, perhaps he'll give it to you. I have no intention of asking him. I'd like you to do that and send it home to me, if you will. I want no part of your husband in any shape or form, as the saying goes. If you please, Mrs. McIntosh. You needn't be offended.

Perhaps you don't know as much about Friedrich Spangler as I do. Perhaps you haven't discovered yet what poor Joyce discovered. Discovered? What? What kind of a man he is.

Joyce was afraid of him, Mrs. Spangler. She lived in deathly fear of the man. She told you that? She didn't have to tell me. I could see it in her eyes when she spoke of him. And sometimes, when she'd be alone with me in Scotland, I'd hear her shrieking in her sleep. And the things she'd say would make her blood run cold. She'd deny it later. And now I knew why. Why?

I don't believe a word of it. The more fool you. If you want to treat yourself to a living death, you can... Stop it. Don't say another word. I forbid this in my house.

Very well, Mrs. Spangler. Suit yourself. But just one thing I'd like to add, and you'd do well to keep it in mind. Two days after Joyce's body was supposed to have disappeared in that train wreck, I received a letter. A letter? From whom? From Joyce.

And you know what she wrote? She wrote that she'd changed her mind and that she wasn't coming to Scotland after all. Lily, my dear. Are you asleep? No, Perky. I'm still awake. I won't turn on the lights and disturb you.

Did you see the inspector? Yes. What happened? Nothing. What did he say to you? It was merely routine. Frederick, you're holding back. Don't talk like a child, Lily. It irritates me. I'm not holding back a thing. The incident is over. Let's forget it. It isn't altogether over, Frederick. What do you mean? Mrs. McIntosh arrived in London today.

What did she want? A picture. Of Joyce. She'll whistle for that picture before she gets it from me. Why don't you send it to her, Frederick? Because I'm not interested in doing Mrs. McIntosh any personal favors. Is that clear? Frederick, you've never talked like that before. Oh, I'm sorry, darling. Terribly sorry. I... Oh, Lily, forgive me. Please, don't kiss me. Very well.

Just as you say. Patrick. What is it now? Mrs. McIntosh said... She said... Well, now, Twivett. She told me she'd received a letter from Joyce just after the accident.

A letter? The letter said that Joyce had changed her mind. That she'd decided not to go to Scotland after all. So that's what the inspector was up to, blast him. Bridget! The old girl must have shown him that letter. What does it mean? Nothing. Joyce had changed her mind. But I persuaded her to go anywhere she'd planned. I see. You believe me, don't you? I asked if you believed me, Lily. Of course...

Of course I believe you. Well, then there's nothing to worry about. So long as you believe me. Nothing in the world to worry about. Go to sleep now, Lily. Pleasant dreams.

You asked to see me, Mrs. Fleece? Yes. I'm leaving your service, Mrs. Spangler. You are? Why? Because I can't stand this house any longer, that's why. But I don't understand. I'm sorry, I can't give you notice. I'm leaving tonight. So sudden. Oh, I'd hate to tell you the reason why I'm on my way. I just hate to tell you. I think you owe me that much of an explanation.

You haven't heard the gossip? Haven't heard what, for heaven's sake? They're saying, Mrs. Spanger, the first Mrs. Spanger was murdered. Oh, no. Everyone in the neighborhood's been talking about it. They're saying this is a house of death and the poor Mrs. Spanger's ghost haunts the attic room. And you believe that? I've reason to believe it, let me tell you. And Scotland Yard has reason, too. They'll be finding out a thing or two one of these days.

I only hope it's not too late for you. Be quiet, do you hear? Me? Oh, I was just telling the mister. I heard what you told her. Well, there are my sentiments, Mr. Brander. Be quiet. Patrick. Get your things and leave this house before I drag you out myself. Don't you dare tell any of your hands on me, do you hear? Don't you dare. Get out.

Oh. Everyone is gossiping, are they? Mrs. Flint isn't responsible for what she says, Pritchard. They think I'm a murderer, do they? Pritchard, please. Well, let her go. I'm glad to be rid of her. I'm glad to be rid of them all. Now I can feel Miss Spydon. I prefer being alone. And you prefer being alone. Don't you? Don't you, Lily? Yes, yes.

Of course I do. For some, the hands of the clock move quickly. But for Lily, each minute seemed an hour. It's ten o'clock, Lily. Yes. I think I'll turn in.

Are you coming? No, I... I'll stay up a while. Aren't you tired, Lily? No. Don't lie to me, Lily. Lie to you? I don't trust you, do you hear? I don't trust anyone anymore. You're all spies and you're all against me. What are you saying, Frederick? Lily, is it the attic that bothers you? Yes.

The attic? Is it because I keep the key to the attic and you've never been inside? I... I haven't even thought about it, Frederick. You're lying again, Lily. No, I'm not. I said you're lying! Next time you lie to me, my darling, I'll close my hand when I strike you. How dare you!

I'm your husband. I'm getting out of this house. No, you're not, my dear. First, I want to satisfy that curiosity of yours. What do you mean? You and I are going to visit the attic, Lily. Now. Here we are. Shall you open the door or

Or shall I? Let me go, Frederick, please. Stay where you are, Lily. Step inside, my dear. It's so dark in here. Well, I light a candle. There you are, Lily. Lily?

Look around the attic. I want you to make a thorough search to reassure yourself. I have nothing to search for. No? No.

Tell me what you know, Lily. Show me what you know and I'll tell you what I know. Let me go. He's dead. He wants to kill me. It's all right, Mrs. Spangler. No one asked for the door, so I forced my way in. What?

What do you mean, Delisa? There's a body there. Joyce Spanger's body. Don't be tight with me now. I was just waiting for the chance to escape from the new inspector and come to you. He killed his first wife and now he wants to kill me. Underneath the floor, eh?

Well, let's see. Here, the floor is loose, all right. When did you discover this, Mrs. Spangler? Yesterday. But the whole neighborhood knew about it before I did. They must have been psychic, Mrs. Spangler. As you seem to be.

What? Take a look under the flooring, Lily. Isn't there... No.

You see, we removed Mrs. Spangler's body over a month ago. So you couldn't have possibly known she was there unless you put her there yourself. When Mr. Spangler discovered the body, Lily, over a month ago, he told me of his suspicions. He knew how much you wanted to marry him, and he also knew you were the last to see his wife alive. But he had no proof. You were both alone here in this house while I was away. Yes.

You killed her, Lily, so you could marry me and share in her wealth. Then, believing the police were almost on top of you, you tried to blow it onto me. You mean you married me just to prove I killed her? I happen to have loved my wife, Lily. Mrs. Spangler's intention to visit her aunt and the train wreck were lucky coincidences for you, Lily. But not lucky enough. Apparently, I...

Made a very bad mistake, Inspector Markham. Yes. And the gallows were made for people like you. Who make mistakes? Over 50 years ago was a long, long time. And yet, couldn't it have happened today? Today?

And now I'll take you back again from out of the past into the present. My theory of time is an interesting one, don't you think? But the story of Lily Spangler was just that. A story and nothing more. And it stands to reason that if the story is fictitious, the theory is a fraud as well. And yet, if you ever get to England, you might visit the Tower of London and consult the execution records. In the file marked November 1900...

you may possibly find the name of Lily Spangler. The clock will be heard again next week, same time, same station, written by Lawrence Klee and starring Hart McGuire. You heard Carly Neville and Richard Davies as Lily and Frederick. Also in the cast were Dorothy Dunkley, Nigel Lovell, Winifred Hindle. The clock is a Grace Gibson Radio production directed by John Ford.

♪♪♪

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Add some holiday flavor to every celebration with the sleek, sophisticated home cocktail maker, Bartesian. Get $50 off any cocktail maker at bartesian.com slash cocktail. That's B-A-R-T-E-S-I-A-N dot com slash cocktail. The confession you are about to hear is an actual tape recording. All right, go ahead. Read the statement, please. I make this confession of my own free will because it is true.

There has not been any force or violence used upon my person to induce me to make these statements. Without promise of immunity or regard of gratuity... Or reward of gratuity. I'm sorry. Or reward of gratuity, I confess. You understand, of course, that your statement will be made public through the radio program Confession. I do. And that your name for the purpose of this broadcast will be Roger S. Chapman. Yes, sir.

For the good you believe it will accomplish, you'll now be permitted to tell your story. Do you understand all this? Yes, sir. I understand. Maybe my problems will help people. You are listening to Confession. This case history of the subject referred to as Roger S. Chapman is a matter of documented record. You will hear the story of his crime experience as told in his own words. I don't know where to begin exactly.

Well, now, just in your own words, I want you to tell it as you remember it, Roger. That's what I tell my patients. Patients? I am a hypnoanalyst. You know, using hypnosis for psychiatry. It's a legitimate field. I took courses. I had a good practice of it. I was helping people who needed help. They liked me, respected me. I was somebody important. Even my father admitted that. I was somebody important.

Even your father? Yes. He wanted us, the whole family, to be proud of him. He insisted on it. He'd quote the Bible and make dramatic speeches about how he'd overcome his problems and all that sort of stuff. What kind of work did your father do? He sold real estate and managed a building on San Pedro Street, right here in Los Angeles. He didn't make a lot of money, but he was proud of his job. He thought it was something special.

Managing an office building. Maybe it was. Many of our people become poitiers and janitors and, you know. All right, go on, Roger. I used to tell him I wanted to do something special, too. I wanted to be somebody. Of course. But he'd just laugh and he'd call me an oddball and tell me I'd better stay in my place and keep out of trouble. I guess that's why I got into trouble. Oh? How do you mean? No, I was about 16 then.

Maybe a little over. There was a kid in our block. Les. Lester McCabe. He thought I was an oddball, too. That's what he called me. Well, I had to show him I wasn't. You know how kids are. How did you do this? We broke into the stove on Los Angeles Street. We got caught. The judge was pretty nice. He saw we were kids and he suspended the sentence and put us on probation. I see. Well, I...

After that, I mean, I thought my father would give me a break, too. Seeing as the judge did, I thought he might understand how a kid feels when he's in a jam. You, you, my son, my son, what have I done to deserve you? What have I done? Oh, I'm sorry. Shut up. Listen, Pa. Shut up, I said.

A credit to your family you are. My son. My son. Oh, please, I'm sorry. Keep your mouth shut. You ain't got a right to speak around here anymore. I try to raise you up to be fit to live with. I try to give you something to live up to. And is this what I get for it? Is it? Is it?

I guess I was dead wrong. A little crazy, maybe. Crazy is right. It's in the Bible all about you. Unstable is water. Thou shalt not excel. Paul. How am I going to face up to my clients tomorrow? How am I going to hold my head up and conduct my business with the whole world pointing a finger? Old Chapman's son is a crook, they'll be saying. Old Chapman's son is falling among the thieves. Honest, Paul. It won't happen again. Man is born unto trouble. The book says so. And you were born to me.

My son, why do I deserve you? Why? Oh, have a heart. It's the first time. The first time? But how about the last time, Roger? Is it the last time? Or ain't it? Sure, sure, sure it is. Wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction. That's what the scripture says, Roger. Are you going to change the scriptures? Well, are you? That's how he was, always quoting the Bible, never letting anyone else talk, especially me.

Was I glad to get out of there. Then you left home? Sure. He wouldn't talk to me after that. He wouldn't let anybody else talk to me either. I got out as soon as I could. Then where did you go? Bummed around mostly. Took our jobs. Washed dishes in a hash joint on Main Street. Ran an elevator in a building on Alameda Avenue. Worked on a delivery truck for the Times for a while, too. I quit that job because I wanted something better. I didn't find it, though. I didn't find anything.

Around the holidays, Christmas time, I was still out of work, broke. And you can get awful lonesome around Christmas. I wished I was dead. Tell me, all this time you'd been in... You'd been completely out of touch with your family. Sure. They didn't want me. I didn't belong there. I didn't belong anywhere. And everybody was busy shopping and rushing home. I had to do something. Like what? Well, I knew Les McKay was working pretty steady...

He was a pin boy at the Paradise Bowling Alley. So I went over and asked him to lend me some money. You kidding, Roger? How are you figuring on paying it back? Look, Les, it's Christmas. After Christmas, I'll get a job. Nobody hires anybody during the holidays. How do I know I'll see you after Christmas? You've got my word. Ain't enough. I gotta get back. Wait a minute. Yeah? You gotta lend me some money, Les.

Look who's telling me what I gotta do. I said I need money. I need a bear. Let go of me. It's your fault I'm in this spot. You got me into that store breaking rap. Let go of me, will you? I didn't make you do nothing. I'm making you do something. I'm making you give me some money. Hey, Roger, cut it out. Put that down. Put it down, Roger. I'll give you... I guess I lost my head all right. There was a bowling pin there in the locker room where we were talking. I slugged him with it and took his wallet.

What about your friend Les? Was he hurt badly? Not too bad, I guess. There was about $20 in the wallet. That was more money than I'd seen in weeks. First thing I did, I bought myself a big dinner. A Christmas dinner. I was still eating when the cops picked me up. Robbery, assault with a deadly weapon. Violated my probation. How long did you get? They sent me up for five years, minimum. Where'd they send you? San Quentin. It wasn't too bad.

At least I finished my high school education up there. Got interested in psychiatry, too. Even took some special courses. I was paroled in four years. You had a job? Yeah. Yeah, I had a job. Fixed me up with a good job. Janitor in a cheap apartment house on Olive Street. Parole officer even came around to see how I was doing. Hi, Roger. Hmm? Oh. Hi, Mr. Swanson. How are you getting along? Okay, I guess.

You, uh, you didn't check in yesterday. I thought I'd stop around and see how you were. Oh, I'm doing great. I'm the best janitor on Olive Street. I love my work. Nothing I'd rather do than empty garbage cans and scrub floors. Now, now, take it easy, son. Sure, take it easy. Look, Mr. Swanson, why do we always have to be janitors? Janitors and porters.

I learned a lot in prison. I took a lot of courses. Why can't I study medicine or be a psychiatrist? You know why, Roger. You know as well as I do. But I could be good at it. I could be... Those fields are closed to men with prison records. Aren't there any exceptions? Oh, surely. But you have to show us you can handle yourself... before you start giving advice to others. How? Emptying garbage cans? Well, if necessary, yes. It takes some time to prepare for a professional career...

And you have to eat. Even exceptions have to eat. Yeah, you're right, I guess. But a janitor... You know, you can make this job count, Roger. You can save some money. Start going to night school. Learn all you can. You may not be able to practice as a psychiatrist, but there are plenty of jobs in psychology you can do. Just give yourself a chance. You stayed on the janitor job, hmm? Yes. I hated it, but I kept it.

I thought about what Mr. Swanson told me and it sounded all right. I could save some money and go to school and maybe someday open up my own business. Have my own office as a consultant or do psychological research or something. Then you started night school. No. No? No, why? Education costs money. Janitors don't make much money. At least I didn't. It costs money to be somebody these days. Had you been working long enough?

Just a couple of months, but I was impatient. I felt like I'd never save enough. Then one night I was walking home. It was late, so I stopped into a place for some coffee. A couple of men were in the next booth. I heard them talking about photography. One of them said he hoped the cameras would be okay out in the car. Well, I knew cameras were worth plenty, so I gulped my coffee and ducked outside.

There the car was, right at the curb. I could see the cameras in them, inside the car. They were little, you know, the little cameras, the imported kind. I knew imported cameras were worth a lot of money, and I needed a lot of money, so... I don't know why I did it. Did what? The car wasn't locked. I opened the door. What? Oh, no. You are listening to Confession.

Before continuing with the documented record of the subject referred to as Roger S. Chapman, the National Broadcasting Company is honored to present Mr. Richard A. McGee, Director of Corrections, Department of Corrections, State of California. Mr. McGee. The case unfolding tonight is a demonstration of one man's tragic attempt to seek acceptance and stature in his community. Because of adverse conditions of environment, his drive for recognition became overemphasized to the point of abnormality.

Such overemphasis often leads to crime. Correctional and parole officers familiar with this behavior pattern are constantly seeking ways to guide the maladjusted person into proper activities. When our rehabilitation program reaches its fullest development, society will then be able to redirect the energies of such individuals into healthy and useful channels. Thank you, Mr. McGee.

Now to continue with confession and the documented record of the subject referred to as Roger S. Chapman. I took both those cameras from that car and a couple of light meters too. I had my hands full, but I could still run pretty fast. They didn't catch you then? No. Waited a few days, then I took the cameras and things to the hock shops around town. Where'd you get them from? All together with the camera being imported and everything, I got $75.

Then I decided to go down to San Diego. There's a good school down there. But they caught up with me. The police did? Yes. The waitress where I had that coffee, she remembered what I looked like. And then what happened? This time they sent me up to Folsom. One to ten years. I see. Well, they helped me up there, too. Even more than at San Quentin. They let me work with the prison psychiatrist, marking tests and scoring IQ exams. That sort of thing.

I learned a lot that way. It helped when parole time came, too. How was that? It helped me get a good job. This time, it wasn't a janitor. What did you do? Well, I was a counselor for a church group. The lady in charge, she was pretty young. Maybe a couple years older than I was. Her name was Miss Wesley.

The files are kept in that little room over there, Roger. Very convenient to your office. My office? Of course. Haven't you seen it yet? No. No, I haven't. Fine thing. Come on. I think you'll like it here, Roger. You won't get rich, but the work is very satisfying. I don't care about getting rich, Miss Wesley. I just want to do work that means something. Here it is, paneled all with your name on it and everything. My office? Mine? All yours.

It could be larger, I suppose, but... No, no, it's perfect. I like it here all right, Miss Wesley. I like it fine. It was fine. For the first time in my life, I was helping people. People asked me for advice. Treated me with respect. They listened to me. They, well, they acted as if I was really somebody. I wanted to help them some more. I wanted to do more of this.

to learn more. And that's when you started school? Yes, there's a good school of hypnotism in town. It's not a phony. Nothing like that. It's got a good reputation and it teaches hypnoanalysis. The course was pretty expensive. It took most of my salary, but I learned a lot. Well, I learned enough to start a private practice. Private practice? Yes, as a hypnoanalyst. I did that while I kept my job as a church counselor. I didn't tell that to the parole officer. We talked on the phone every week or so, but

But I didn't tell him. They're very pleased with your work at the church, Roger. I'm sure glad, Mr. Swanson. Are you still dreaming of going into business for yourself? What? You mentioned it a long time ago. Oh, that. Well, if I could, I'd do it. But if I can't, I... Well, as long as you're happy at the church, stay put for a while. The more you learn there, the more you can help yourself. Okay, Mr. Swanson. And, Roger? Yes, sir? Things are going your way now, son.

Don't take any chances. I couldn't help feeling he knew something about my private practice. I felt as if he were trying to warn me. Well, why didn't you just tell him about it? I almost did. But I knew he'd tell me I couldn't practice without a license. I couldn't qualify for a license. I didn't want to lose all of this. Not now. Not the way things were going. You say you didn't want to lose all this. Were things that good? Oh, I wasn't making much money. Not much to speak of.

School took most of it. I needed special books and some equipment too. But the church was still paying me. I got along. Funny how you can get along when people want you around. I had 15 clients, patients. I did a good job treating them. Even Mr. Swanson admitted that. Then Mr. Swanson knew. Yeah, he dropped in on me at my office one day for a surprise.

Sorry to interrupt your work like this, Roger, but I'm afraid it won't matter now. Won't matter? What do you mean? Roger, you know better. This hypnoanalyst business. You're practicing without a license. Well, I don't qualify for one. I thought... Exactly. You're operating outside the law. You can't afford to do that. You have too much to lose. But I'm not doing anything that isn't legitimate. I'm doing a good job here. Look at these files. Here. These charts. Case histories. These letters from patients. Look at these letters. These letters.

Look, I've helped these people. I'm doing a good job, Mr. Swanson. Here, look. Please, please look, Mr. Swanson. Look at these. I know, Roger. I know. The parole board checked into it. They know you're doing a good job, better than a lot of men in the field. Finn. But you've been convicted of a felony. The law states that you've lost your civil rights.

That includes the right to qualify for a license for... Is that what laws are for? To keep people from making a decent living? Is that what they're for? Roger. I do something worthwhile for once in my life. I help people. I do a good job, and I'm against the law. Roger, listen to me. You help other people, but you aren't helping yourself. You've got to learn to help yourself. What for? What do you... For your own sake, and the sake of those others. Now sit down and listen to me. Sit down. Your work in this field has been pretty exceptional.

We might be able to work out a restoration of rights for you. How? Let the parole board worry about that. It will take some time, though. How long? I don't know. But it's worth the wait. You'll have to stop accepting fees. You'll have to discontinue this practice while your case is being checked. For how long? How long? I don't know, Roger. It may take a few weeks. Just try to be patient. Okay? You followed instructions. I did. It was pretty tough, but I knew it was worth it.

I didn't have any money, though. The money from the church work went to pay my debts, the office debts. I slept on the couch in the office to save room rent. Just barely got by. Then my father showed up. Your father? Yes. The first time in almost ten years. He was different from the way I remembered. He looked beaten. Outlook wasn't there anymore. At first I thought he resented me for having a nice office with a name on the door and all. I might have been wrong.

I never, never could quite understand my father. This is good, son. It's good. I'm proud to see you making a name for yourself. Well, it took quite a while, Pa. And worth every minute of it, too, eh, boy? I admit this surprised me, Roger, but you make me very happy, very happy, son. You're...

You mean that? A wise son maketh a glad father. The book says that, you know. And it takes wisdom to be somebody these days. Thanks, Pa. Yeah, I've heard all about it. You're making good. You're doing good work. Work that reaps rewards in heaven. Blessed is he that considers the poor, as the scripture says. Uh, you think you could help your poor father? I sure can. I need a little help, son. Oh? Is something wrong?

Well, things haven't been so good, Roger. Since your first trouble, things have gone from bad to worse for me. Will you help me, boy? Sure, if I can. I could pay it back by Monday at the latest. Oh, well, I don't have much money. $300? I haven't got it. Not that much. I'll get it back to you by Monday. But, Pa, I haven't got it. You can get it, can't you? What? Wouldn't someone trust you for $300? Trust me?

Well, sure, but... Well, I... Son, believe me, I'm desperate. Is it a sin for a son to help his own father? No, Pa. But I... Well, if I could be sure you'll have it back to me no later than Monday. Are you doubting your own father, Roger? Well, are you? I was crazy, maybe. But I felt big being able to help him. Bigger than I'd ever felt before in my whole life. What did you do?

I wrote a check for $300 and signed it, passed his name to it. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't turn my father down. I went with him to cash the check, just to be sure he got the money. I just knew he'd have the money back on Monday because he said so. He promised me faithfully. I even expected him sooner. But Saturday, Sunday came, didn't show up. I waited all day Monday and Tuesday. On Wednesday...

Miss Wesley called me into her office. Come in, Roger. Shut the door. Sit down. Hello, Roger. Oh, Mr. Swanson. Didn't see you. Roger, we've done everything possible to help you. Everything. I know. Then why do you do a thing like this to us? Like what? Like this. This. Oh, the check. Yes, the check. Signing the pastor's name. An out-and-out forgery. Roger...

I don't understand you. I had to do it, Miss Wesley. My father needed money. He needed help. You need help too, Roger. You need it more than your father. But he promised to have the money back on Monday. He promised. That's not the point. You forged this check. Why? I expected to have the money back on Monday. He promised. If you'll ask him, he'll explain. I know he'll explain. Your father's gone, Roger. Gone? Gone. He skipped town. Gone? He could explain all about this. He...

You sure he's gone? Yes, Roger. Sure. I don't understand it. I don't understand it either, Roger. You did such good work. You were a wonderful counselor, and yet you... Why, Roger? Why? My own father. I helped him. Why doesn't he help me? You have just heard an actual confession. This case history of the subject referred to as Roger S. Chapman is a matter of documented record.

To protect the legal rights of the subject, names and places were changed or deleted. Technical advice for confession comes from the office of the Director of Corrections, Department of Corrections, State of California. In a moment, you'll again hear Roger S. Chapman. Subject, Roger S. Chapman, found guilty, forgery. Sentence, 1 to 14 years. Assigned, California State Prison, San Quentin. Psychologist's report, IQ test, 137, Wexler, Bellevue.

Psychiatrist report, strong rejection complex. Dominant personality inhibited. Recommendation, extensive group therapy. Sociologist report, subject cooperative. Suggest transfer to minimum security institution. Work assigned, psychiatrist's assistant. Very satisfactory. Possibility for parole, fair. Well, that's my story. As much as I can tell you about it.

The other day, one of the counselors up here reminded me of a line from the Bible. Physician, heal thyself. It fits my case pretty well. I can help others, but I'm too close to my own problems to see them clearly. But I understand them better now than I ever did before in my whole life. Much better. I'm up for parole again in about eight months. That'll be my big test. I've got to pass the test this time. I've got to.

This has been Confession, transcribed statements of actual crimes. These true tragedies are brought to you each week as an NBC Radio Network production in an effort to stem the nation's forward march of crime. Credit for this broadcast goes to our cast. Paul Freese, James Edwards, Jester Hairston, Jay Loft Lynn, Jonathan Hole, Mady Norman. Script, Don Brinkley. Music, Michael Samogie. Script, Supervision, Warren Lewis. Direction, Homer Canfield. John Wall speaking.

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With his hands clasped in front of him, the cord from his dressing gown trailing across the highly polished surface of the floor, Oliver Carson walks in his slippered feet and down with soft measured tread.

His lips moving silently as though in supplication. A voice stabs at his consciousness like a sharp knife. Not in bed yet, Mr. Carson. Oh, it's you. Yes, yes, I'm going. Well, sleep well. It hasn't dreamed. Yes, thank you. Good night, then. Sleep well. Stay awake. That's the only answer.

Think of those who love me, want to protect me. Think of Auntie May, for instance. Yes? I told you last night I'd be here. But last night was a dream, a nightmare. You came into my mind. And now... Please, leave me alone.

Three nights you've been standing there grinning at me with ashen white face, those large eyes, hot coals of fire, as though you were going to burn right through to my very soul. You must pay for your crime. It wasn't a crime. It's true what you keep telling me. No. Let me remind you. Oliver, it's getting later. I must go back. Sally, I... Oliver, please, Oliver, behave yourself. You know how I feel about you, Sally. Stop it. Oliver! Oliver!

Come back. Come back, Sally. I'm not going to hurt you. I love you. Don't eat me. Let me go. Please let me go. I worship you. You know that. Sally. Please, Oliver. We were such good friends. Don't spoil everything. You and I are the only two beings left in this world made for each other. No. No. Don't. Don't.

You killed her. What are you going to do? Look at these hands. What? Give me your wrists. They're as cold as... As death? No. No. No.

Auntie May! Auntie May! Oliver! Oliver! My poor boy! What is it? He... he... Oh, you're not having one of your nightmares again, are you, Oliver? He was... he was going to kill me. Oh, my poor boy. You're imagining these things. He was here, I tell you. You must believe me.

Dear Oliver, my dear boy, what am I going to do with you? There's no one here. My room's next door. I rushed as soon as I heard you shout. No one left by your bedroom door. The windows bolted and barred. You must have been dreaming. But, Auntie May, you're so for yourself. I haven't been to sleep. This man you say that visits you in the middle of the night...

What does he look like? He's tall, with a long, thin face. His skin's drawn tight. His face is almost like a skull.

His eyes are like two pieces of black coal set against a yellow flame. When he points his finger at you, it's as though a piece of white steel... Oh, really, Oliver, white steel indeed. Now you try and get some sleep. Please, please, please don't leave me. Please, Auntie May. I promise not to leave you until you're fast asleep. But supposing he... Now do what your Auntie May says. Yes. Yes.

Yes, you're the only one that can help me. Oh, that's right. Now just relax. Relax. Relax. You're so good to me. I don't know what I'd do without you. You don't think it's true what he said? I didn't kill Sally. Ah, you see. Of course you didn't. The very idea. She's gone away. The End

Hello, Oliver. Sally. Sally, you're here. Well, whatever's the matter? Where have you been? They told me you'd gone away. I thought... Sally, why did you go away without saying goodbye? I was only going for a week. Besides, you were very naughty that day on the cliff. When you ran away from me, I didn't know where to find you.

Oh, Sally, it's good to see you. He said that I... that I... He thought you were dead. He dead? Oliver, what on earth are you talking about? This man, he came here. I've been so worried. Oh, Oliver, darling, is that why you're looking so hollow-eyed and so pale and drawn? Oh, yes, because I... I thought I'd lost you forever. Somehow, I felt that you were calling to me, that you needed me. I do, Sally. I do.

You'll never know what this visit means to me. It won't be the last. I know I acted a little foolishly running away from you, but we'd only known each other just over a week. Just one little kiss, that's all I wanted. Here. Bitter? Bitter? Oh, Sally, you worked a miracle. I don't know who he was or what he was, whether it was in my imagination or... Who cares? You've banished him forever. Sleep well, Oliver. Oliver?

Sally... She's back. She isn't dead. She kissed me. It was a kiss of life. I can live again.

Everything is going to be as it was. Everything? Huh? What? You lied to me. You said I killed her. She loves me. How can a corpse love? Where will it draw its warmth?

You won't be able to love once you pay your debt. You've got it all wrong. You're a liar. Sally's not dead. She's alive. I spoke to her today. She kissed me. She loves me. Loves you? Yes, loves me. I don't know why I listened to you in the first place. Who are you? Are you real? Are you flesh and blood? Why do you want to torment me? What have I ever done to you? Do you want to know whether I'm flesh and blood? Who I am? What I am?

You'll know soon enough, and when you do, it will be your last piece of knowledge on Earth. Here, take my hand. No, no. Go on, clasp it. I thought you said you weren't afraid anymore. No, I'm not. I'm not afraid, but... But your hand, it looks so cold and damp. All right, I'll clasp your hand. Perhaps I'll find you're not real. Your hand's as cold as... as... death. Yes. Yes.

Death. Are you dead? Have you come to claim me now? Just when I've learned that Sally loves me? I'm not death. I'm death, agent. And this is my last visit. But...

Why must I die? Because of what you did to Sally. She's alive. She's alive, I tell you. Look, I'll call someone. We'll get Sally over here. Now? What, three o'clock in the morning? Yes, she won't mind. She'll do anything for me. She loves me. She said so. Where are you going? I'll call Auntie May.

It's locked. You always lock your door at night, remember? You came into my room through a locked door. Through a locked door, through the thick walls, through the shuttered windows. Does it matter? You'll see.

I'll prove to you that Sally's still alive. Come away from that door. No, I'm going to prove to you... Let me alone. This is my last visit. You must be prepared to... You're strangling me. Auntie May. Auntie May. No good calling for your Auntie May. Yes, it is. Take your hands away from his throat.

Oh, Auntie May. Thank heaven you're here. There, there, Oliver. He won't touch you as long as I'm here. Now go back into bed. I'll deal with this thing, whatever it is. You'd better take care. Who are you frightening this poor man out of his wits?

Now get back into bed, Oliver. You'll catch your death of cold. Death of cold. You'll be laughing on the other side of your face by the time I'm done with you. Coming here disturbing people in the middle of the night. What's your game? What are you really after? Him. He's forfeited the right to live. He's my nephew. He's only 28 years of age. A decent, hard-working man. At least he was until you came and tried to destroy him.

Why? I've already told you why. The girl, Sally... But she's alive. I keep telling you, she... You know she's alive, don't you, Annie Mae? Of course. I spoke to Sally after she visited you this morning. You're lying. You're lying to save your nephew. She's dead, I tell you. Dead because of his brutal love. How dare you! Oliver, you stay here. I'm going to get the police. The police.

What are the forces of the police against us? Could they go through that locked door, that bolted and barred window? We'll soon see about that. No, no, don't, Archie. Don't leave me. If you go, he'll... Oh, well, perhaps you're right. Look out at the window. See that golden glow on the horizon? Soon it will be dawn. And if this thing is really from another world, he will have to go before the sun appears.

What's the good of that? He'll come back again. Had you not come in when you did, I'd have been... You would have paid the penalty for your sins. Then we'll all sit here until the dawn. Move in world class. Get the taste of new smooth State Express 3-5 today. We promise you, it's the smoothest cigarette you can get.

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Get the taste of new smooth State Express 35 today. Well, well, well. Poor frightened Oliver lying there on his bed with his Aunt May sitting at his side and the ghost. He's still there.

Or has he gone to find his aunt? Wake up, Oliver. Wake up. He's gone. Oliver. Oliver, wake up. Look, the sun is high in the sky. Let's open the window. No, no, no. Please don't do that, Auntie May. He's... Yes, he's gone. Oh, thank goodness you're all right.

I'm ashamed to say I dozed off, and when I opened my eyes, he wasn't here anymore. Heavens, I have a lot to do. Why don't you get up and take a walk in the sun? Yes. Yes, I think I will.

Now that I know that Sally's all right. That's a good boy. But what about... Don't you worry about him. Now, as soon as you've had your morning tea, go out and get some fresh air. Yes, I will, Auntie May. Gordon, I'll see you later. Auntie May, the door's locked. I'll unlock it. Auntie May? Auntie May, where are you?

How did you get out? How did you get out of this door? Mr. Carson, what's going on? Good gracious me. Now look at you. Here, let me help you get into bed. How did you get in here? The door was locked. I thought it was locked. Oh, dear. Into bed you go. That's it. Oh, now look at the state this pillow's in. Now don't you move.

but i was going out in the sun later you look so paler i'm going to get dr ratcliffe to look at you now please mr carlson just stay where you are all right

You know where she's gone, don't you? She's gone to get Dr. Ratcliffe. That's what she says. But you and I know who's coming to see you. And you and I know why. No way. Stop torturing me. Torturing? Torturing you? Don't you deserve to be tortured? No. You haven't got your Auntie May with you now, have you? But they said...

They said you wouldn't come here when it's light. Who says I'm here, as you call it? Can you see me? Look around you. I'm not anywhere. I'm not anywhere, am I? And yet I am. You know where I am. In your mind.

In your mind. Help me! Help me! Hi, Dr. Dermick. Yes, doctor. Is he very bad? He needs to be expected. You know, when we start to reduce the drug, you know. Thank you. Roll up his sleeve, will you? Yes. That should keep him under for a few hours.

I think we've reached the crisis we've been waiting for. Poor chappy. He looks so lost and helpless. True. But I think that if our treatment is successful, he's going to have an interesting story to tell. Auntie May? Auntie May? Sir, you're awake, Carson. You're... Yes, yes. Dr. Ratcliffe.

You've been having rather a bad time the last few days. How are you feeling now? Oh, Auntie May, she's... Oh, Carsons, for your own sake, we have to bring you down to reality. When you first came to the sanatorium, you were under heavy sedation. Then we reduced the amounts because we can never hope to cure any form of mental sickness unless we get at the cause.

And you know what the cause of yours is, don't you? No. No, I'm not sick. I... I want my Auntie May. Now, listen to me, Carson. We're either going to put you on the path of recovery in the next few days... or you'll go into a home for the incurable insane. Which is it to be? She was here. She stopped him from torturing me. Your Auntie May died when you were six years old...

From that time on, she's been the only image you've ever had of warmth and comfort and security. But all your life, you've been living in a dream world, running away from people, inventing fantasies when you were alone in your own little room.

But this last business, it was then that your brain snapped. You've got to get rid of your sense of guilt. It isn't true. She'll come back. Auntie Mary... You were charged with criminally assaulting this girl's family. No, no, I didn't. And throwing her unconscious body from the top of Beacon Hill. I didn't. She's alive, I tell you. She's alive. She loved me. She loved me. She came to see me. She couldn't have done it.

Because she's dead, though. Did you throw her deliberately or was it an accident? It was an accident. I just wanted to tell her I loved her. She slipped. Well done. She slipped. But she's dead. You were charged with her murder and you were found not guilty. Yes. Yes, they said I didn't do it, but...

But he tortures me. He put his hands on my wrist. They were ice cold like death. Oh, handcuffs. Yes. My compliments to Detective Sergeant Hinchcliffe, nurse. Tell him I'd be grateful if he'd come to the sanatorium. I need his help. Yes, doctor. Carsons, four nights ago we gave you EST treatment. You've been having a bad time, but I think we're going to put you right.

Now, you were charged and you were found not guilty. I told the truth in court. He doesn't believe me. We're going over the evidence of that day of how you laughed and made love. And she ran out and her foot slipped. And so it was an accident. And so you don't need any Auntie Mays to protect you. No one is punishing you except yourself.

Keep him away! Keep him away! Come on in, Sergeant. Sergeant? Sergeant Hinchcliffe. You spent many hours interrogating Mr. Carsons. Yes, I did so. You accused him of killing that girl. Yes, but it's all over now. The court found him innocent. You think that I'm innocent? Of course I do, Mr. Carsons. Now that the court has found you innocent, well, I accept that. Is he the apparition that's been visiting you? Yes, but...

But I don't understand. Sergeant, do you solemnly promise to leave this young man alone from now on? Of course, but I don't quite understand how... Come with me, Sergeant. Just stay with Mr. Carson, please, will you, nurse? Yes, it was good of you to come down. Poor chap. Is he any better? I think so.

We've managed to bring all his fears and fantasies into the open. When he collapsed in the courtroom after being found not guilty, he kept calling for his Auntie May. I did try to get the address out of him. That's one of the things that triggered him off. She died when he was a child. He's always been something of a neurotic. Fancy his brain snapping just like that. His guilt was too great to bear. Do you think he really killed her? That the verdict was wrong? It's not for me to pass judgment.

I don't believe that he deliberately threw her from Beacon Head. On the other hand, I don't believe that she was a willing party to his advances. I believe that this miserable, loveless character... frightened the girl with his overtures... that she ran away from him, slipped, and plunged to her death. On the other hand, I believe he lied to the court... when he said she was a willing party to their lovemaking. And that lie has festered in his mind ever since...

And that's what has caused his brain to snap. But I think he'll be all right now. Keep away from me! Oh, I want this a little loud. Well, Doctor, it seems as though you're wrong. THE END

Judging by that girl's scream, they're going to find Oliver Carson's a much more difficult nut to crack than they thought. Still, when he starts calling for his Auntie May again, and they give him up as hopeless, we'll make room for him here.

Behind the creaking door. The End

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Where are we going? Through the creaking door. Of course. The manufacturers of State Express 3-5 Spilter King cigarettes invite you to listen next Saturday at 9 o'clock when they will again present... The Creaking Door.

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Man kills passionately out of hunger or anger, out of fear or love. But man also destroys life coldly and impersonally, without rancor, unemotionally and with but one purpose, to gain.

It is of greed and murder that you hear tonight in a mystery playhouse. Oh, yes. Yes.

Guilt has been known to lie heavily on the soul of the coarsest and unregenerate of human beings. And conscience is an unseen but terrible demon to those whose hearts are set in evil, exerting a grim and unrelenting power over their minds. Tonight our story concerns itself...

with a price of greed and revolves about a strange and almost fateful phenomenon that forced her man to stand ghastly trial before her jury of the dead. Listen as we tell you of Captain Boo Harrison and the six who did not die. The Six Who Did Not Die

Far below the equator, where the blinding sun beats with fierce hatred on the endless surface of the sea, lie the lonely islands of the Gambier Archipelago. There is no movement in the white, hot expanse of sand and ocean, no movement save the brief, fluttering excursions of flying fish and the few palm fronds that wave languidly above precarious footholds in the scanty soil.

Barren and lonely are the Gambiers. And lonelier than most is the atoll of Mangareva, a strip of sand and grey coral rising from the sea like something foul and festering. For at high water the tide sweeps over it, and retreating leaves on its sloping beach all manner of snails and shellfish that helpless broil and putrefy under the blazing sun.

No trader has ever visited Mangareva, for there is no one with whom to trade. And the gunboats of the Australian Territorial Patrol give it wide berth, for there is no one to watch. Only an occasional purling vessel with its crew of native divers ventures within sight of Mangareva. Such a vessel is the sloop Nancy Hale, four days out of Sydney.

A weather-beaten hulk with cocking oozing from her open seams, she lies at anchor in the lee of the island. It is sundown, and her small boat is returning from a day of pearl diving. The oars stroked by six dark-skinned natives, the cockney mate standing in the bow.

As the boat swings broadside to the sloop, the mate clambers aboard. All right, Kamali. Make up fast for the stern cleat. And mind you don't lose one of those oars overside. Me not ten. Nowhere is ten. Me do some work all time. Go, Blimey, stop your even babbling. I don't care whose turn it is. Make up fast for the ship that moors. If it ain't done by the time I get back from seeing the captain, I'll take the eyes off you.

And you mind what I say? Filthy beggars always getting their ends up about something. It ain't one thing, it's another. I give ten pounds right here and now to be lifting a pint down in the Red Dragon Corp. Blimey, I would. Instead of sweating me blood out in a million miles from civilization. Aye, Captain. Captain.

I like it when there's three sheets in the wind. I'll take a look. Who's there? I keep a shut on bullets. Nobody but me, Foggy. Oh. Back already? Well, it's been ten hours under that blasted sun. Ain't that enough? Close the door. Close the door.

How'd you make out? Eh, not bad. You might invite a chap to have a nip of that there gin sitting on the table. Go ahead. It's the last of it. Oh, blimey, the last of 60 bottles we took on at Sydney. You ain't been bashful about drinking it, have you? You got any objections? Oh, now, now, don't be getting your end up full, no offence. Why are you drinking? Let's see what you've got for your ten hours. Well, now, I think we've done pretty fair, haven't we? Here's one in your eye.

Ah, nothing like a spot of Dutch gin to set a chap right. Good at that. Too bad there ain't more of it for the old back to Sydney. What makes you think we're hauling back? I thinks we are, Mr. Addison. Faster than the old trouble takers. I thinks we are. Come on out with it. What'd you get? A handful of stinking seed pearls? Seed pearls? Is it not on your life?

Give an eye to these, if you please. Good Lord. Not bad, eh, Mr. Addison? Where'd you get these, Foggy? Fifty yards southeast of Mangareva in two fathoms of water. You know what they're worth. God, they must weigh fifty grains apiece. How many are there? One, two, three, four, five... Eight by my count. That's right. Eight times fifty. Four hundred grains.

All perfect, too. Hardly need peeling. There's a thousand pounds here, Foggy. Maybe more the way the market is today.

By heaven, you're right. We are hauling back. I can do a lot with a thousand pounds. Ain't you forgetting something, Captain? As about me and the natives. What do you mean? Well, the natives get half the catch according to the agreement with their chief, and I get ten percent. Well, figuring rapid and not intending to be accurate, I should say that leaves you four underpounds, not a thousand. Trouble with you, foggy ears. You don't know how to figure. Now listen...

When we took on this batch of divers, we never dreamed we'd run into a haul like this, did we? Can't say as we did. All right. We figured maybe we'd come back with 50 or 100 grains, not 400. What are you leading up to? How far can I trust you, Foggy?

Well, now, I'd say that all depends on how much it's worth to be trusted. If we get what I think we should for those eight duties, your cut will be 300 pounds, $1,500. God, blimey, enough to take me back to England in style, ain't it? More than enough. Well, it sounds most attractive. How do you plan to work it? Right now, eight people know about this catch. You and me and the six divers. Chances are there are plenty more pearls where these came from.

Must be a natural bed. We got to fix it so's only you and me know the location of that bed. Savvy? I ain't interested in the bed. All I'm thinking about is getting enough to ship back to England. Okay, this is how to get it. You still ain't giving me no details like it, if you understand what I mean. There's nothing to it. We lay over here tonight. Tomorrow morning we tell the boys we're making one last dive and hauling back. I'll go along with you in the small boat so's I can mark the spot. I'll take a belaying pin with me.

They'll all dive in pronto because they've been there before. And when they come up one at a time like they always do... They get me, Foggy. I get you, Bull. I get you.

Come on.

Eve to it, Eve to it. We ain't going to no tea party. You say no more dive. You say we go back. Mind your babbling, Tom to Eden. We got the captain with us today.

He wants to see how you dive. Ain't that right, Mr. Addison? That's right, boys. This is the last dive and then we haul back. Good catch this trip. Plenty gin. For the likes of them, as he's left to drink it. Shut up, you fool. We make only one dive, then we're going back. How about that, Mr. Addison? Yeah, one dive, then you're through. Yeah, they likes that. They're poor beggars. What in your lip, bugger? You tend to business.

Move us southeast of Manga River, about 50 yards off. This the spot? Close enough, I'd say. Shippers! Leave that Angotaru over with it.

Are you sure this is the spot, Foggy? As near as I can come to it. She holding, Charu? Yeah, she holds. All right, let her swing with the tide, what there is of it. Water's slack. Okay, get him over, Foggy. Here we go, boys. You first, Kamuli.

He's got a dive. Why'd you say something about it before we left the sloop? Wait a minute, Fargey. I'll handle this. Come on. One dive won't do it no harm. I come out here special to see you and your boys go down.

Tell you what I'll do. Anything you bring up this dive belongs to you. No split. All pearls yours. How's that? Well, what about it, Kamali? No dive. Stand up in the boat. Stand up, I said. Now for the last time, Kamali, you're going to dive or not? No, no dive. Ear hurts bad. Maybe this will cure it. No, no.

Now, the rest of you get over and make it fast. Go ahead. Ah, that does it. They're over. Hold the boat steady, Foggy. I'll work the belaying fin as they come up. What about this one, you slug? Leave him, Beatle. We get rid of the rest.

Hold steady now. I won't be staying down there long, I can promise you. I got a funny feeling no good's going to come of this. Store your feelings and keep the boat steady. That's all you've got to do. I'll take care of the rest. One little tap of this belaying pin as they come up will be enough. Here comes one. Right outside the boat. Steady. Steady. That does for him. Went down like a rocket. Two more coming up. I see them.

Ah, that mate's thing. See the others? Not yet. Water got roughed up a mile. Hold on. Here they come. Two together. That'll make it easy. Steady now. Come on.

Blimey, did you see the way them two's eyes rolled up? Like they sent the shivers through me. Give me a hand with this one and slow the gap. What you gonna do with it? Keep him over.

Where do I tap his skull to make sure he don't come too? There ain't nothing finicky about you, is there, Bull? Ravish beast. Lift him now. You all right? Now, get that anchor up.

The job's done. All neat and clean. It ain't done for me. I'll be seeing them poor beggars' eyes rolling up for a long time to come. You'll forget about it once we hit Sydney. There'll be plenty of gin and rooms in the best hotel in town. All I want is to book passage on the first boat back to England. Don't worry about that, Foggy. You'll go back to England a rich man. I got another idea. The money we get for those pearls is gonna be nothing compared to what we end up with.

Now, what's on your mind? You'll find out. Get that anchor up. All set? Right. Bend two on the oars. We're gonna be rich men, Foggy, you and me. Plenty rich. Let's go.

Oh, my God.

Twelve hundred pounds you got for them pearls and me supposed to get my share. And I ain't seen a shilling. And I'm not going to now. Shut up and open the door. You got the key? No, I ain't got nothing. Nothing for killing six men. Wipe down, you stupid fool. Like to get us hanged? Here's the key. Open the door. We're going to be rich men, Foggy, you and me.

How's about that, Mr. Harrison? Open the door, I said. Twelve hundred pounds and now we ain't got nothing. Close the door. Twelve hundred pounds lost. Stop talking about it. I've heard all I want to hear. Oh, you have. It don't bother you that I ain't got no passage money, does it? You think I figured on losing it? I had a system to beat that roulette wheel. Something happened. Didn't work. I told you to stop. You told me. What do you know about it?

All I was trying to do was to build that stake up, make us some real money. Yeah, now we ain't got nothing. Gamble it away, you did. That's more where that came from.

I've got 20 pounds left. Enough to pay for this hotel room, dock charges on the sloop and provisions. We'll go back to Mangareva and get ourselves some more of them big pearls. I ain't going nowhere near Mangareva. Not on your life, I ain't. Why not? Because you ain't got pleasant memories, that's why. I'm quitting. I know a rum deal when I see one. 1,200 pounds left in a gambling house. So you're quitting, huh?

What makes you think I'll let you quit? You ain't got no right to stop me. Now I got a right to see that you don't open that big blabbing mouth of yours. I got that right. I knows what I'm well off. I ain't doing no talking. Maybe I'd better make sure of that. Always one for making jokes, aren't you? This don't happen to be no joke. We murdered six men back at Mangareva, you and me. We're the only ones knows about it. I think you better ship with me when the Nancy Hale pulls out in the morning.

Yeah, I think you better. I ain't shipping on no more pearl boats and I ain't going nowhere near Mangareva. Now, that's final. All right, Foggy. That's how you feel about it.

Open the window, will you? It's hot in here. It ain't a bit hot. You've been drinking too much. Open it anyway. Thanks. Nice view of the harbour from there, Foggy. Pretty with all them lights blinking.

Bull, how's about giving me half the 20 pounds you've got left? Sure. Why not? Here. Two five-pound notes. Oh, much obliged, Bull. If I wasn't so set on going home, I...

What are you holding my wrist for? You're going out the window, Foggy. You're going to fall out. No, I ain't done nothing. I want to make sure you won't do anything. Let go of me, fool. Let go. Hold on, Foggy. Fool. Fool. Twelve stories to the street. You won't talk now, Foggy. Not at all. Foggy.

He's off on that jib, Halyard, Dave. More! More! Okay, reef her up. Stand by to heave anchor. All right. You, Manu, lend a hand with that winch. All right, let her go. Come on.

Anchor down and hold him, sir. Make her fast. Aye, aye, sir. Make her fast, Manu. What, sir? Yeah, this is it. We stole the aye-aye and the sir business, Dave. We ain't formal on the Nancy Hale. That suits me all right.

So that's Mangareva, is it? Ain't much to look at. Best pearl bed in the South Seas right under us. Won't even bother with a small boat today. Work right from the sloop. Get the divers over. Okay. Anu! Anu! Yes, boss? Get your boys over. Oh, no, good friend. Me, head man, go first. You'll learn, Dave. First dive's taken by the head man.

These boys are new to this spot won't go under till he comes up and says it looks clear. All right. All right Got eight beauties out of here last trip Dave

You're going to be real glad you shipped with me. Give him a hand. Take the boat out of here. Take bad water. Shut up! What's the matter with you, Manu? Me, I go to bottom.

Six men down there, dead. You're crazy. No, crazy. Six dead men. They stand up like they're alive. My boys know that I'm here. Bad water. Hey, wait a minute, Manu. What do you mean there's six dead men down there standing up? Like live. They're standing up. But they're dead. I've done enough from you. Shut up.

Now the rest of you listen to me. You'll die, but I'll know the reason why. I came here to get pearls, and you're going to get them.

There'll be no acting up on my part. Dave! Dave, there's a diving helmet and lead shoes in one of the starboard lockers. Get them out. Test the air hose and the pump. Know anything about diving equipment? Plenty, but I never went down myself. You won't have to. I'm going down. I'll prove to these beggars there's nothing wrong down there. The End

Everything okay, Captain? Yeah, just about touching bottom. Ease up on the rope a little. Let the rope go, Manu. Easy. Easy. Take a bite in it. That better, Bull? Yeah, much better. Keep that air pump and hand generator going. Don't worry.

Yeah, how's it look down there? Can't see much yet. Gotta get used to it. Lean forward when you walk. You need more rope? No, it's okay. I ain't doing any walking.

Well, I want to do is stay down here a couple of minutes and prove to those native beggars that... Captain, what is it? Pull me up! Pull on that rope! What is it, Bull? What happened? Get me up, Dave! Get me up! Don't come near me! No! No! No! No, Ken Bull! It can't be, Duck! Lay on it, all of you! Dave! Dave! Pull me up! We're doing our best, Bull! Watch down there! Six men! One who's right! They're standing in the water and turning at me!

We'll get you up now. Hold on.

No, no, I don't. I don't. I don't. No can do. Rope stuck. Get back to that air pump. Air? Gonna have air? No, man the pump. No. Cut them bad. Stay in bad water. Why, you fool. They won't man the pump. We can't fight you. Fool. You're stuck just the same as I am, aren't you? Stuck in the asphalt.

That's why you're standing there grinning at me. You can't move. Bull! Bull, listen to me! You were right, Junior. And I killed Rocky, too. I wanted it all for myself, and I'm gonna get it. Pearls, the biggest pearls you ever saw. They're down here all around me.

I'm not afraid of you. You're dead. Dead, you hear me? All for the love of heaven, listen to me! Worlds all around. Great ones. Go ahead, bring your dirty devil's grin. You can't beat me. You can't. You can't beat me.

Captain Bull Harrison, the watery courtroom. Facing his jury. The jury with good reason to pronounce him guilty of murder and greed. Poor Bull. Down there with the pearls he wanted so much. And the men he murdered to get them. Funny, isn't it? Or is it? Please don't go. Come with me to the green room where the players are rehearsing our next performance.

Come. Come. Come. Hello? No, I'm not Pamela North. I... Hmm. She hung up, as usual. Maybe I'd better practice up on my falsetto. I'm in a hurry this time. Hello? I am not...

Dead. Oh, hold the door. Maybe he didn't believe me. No, I'm not Pamela North. Well, of course not. I am. Hello, Pam. Oh, I'm glad to be home, darling. Wasn't the reunion fun? It was awful. Everybody sat around noticing how much older everybody else looked. Post-mortems, huh? Mm-hmm. Darling, is there a man in your life? Of course there is.

You. There must be somebody else. Because I'm pretty sure I haven't been calling myself up and asking me if I weren't Pamela North. Darling, you're not well. I'm in perfect health. Listen, some goon has been phoning every hour and asking for you. As soon as I convince him that I'm not you, he hangs up. Well, that's reasonable enough, but... I don't know if it has anything to do...

With the little man. What little man? The one who followed you home. Maybe I should have asked you about the men in your life. Certainly, darling. The street was so dark and he was so gray, sort of, and indistinct. I ran. Did he run after you? I don't know. I would have. You did. But you slowed up for me. Oh. You answer it. I wouldn't want to disappoint him again. All right, darling. Hello? Hello?

Yes, this is Pamela North. What did you... Hello? I know, he hung up. Probably thinks it's good, clean fun. You know, darling, I am getting scared. Nothing to get scared about. You're beautiful. All right, darling, wait. Is that your little man coming down the street? Yes, Charlie.

He's looking up at the house numbers. I thought he was only a nasty little old man, but... Come away from the window. What are you going to do? Call the police. Oh, I may just be imagining things, Jerry. My imagination can't be that vivid. There may have been a car backfiring. I know those were shots. I'll take a look. Jerry, don't you go near that window. Relax, darling. No one's going to see me up here. Honey? What is? He's deserted.

The little man? He's gone too. Maybe that was a car backfiring. At any rate, most people would think so. Darling, we've heard guns being fired too often. Well, whoever fired those shots isn't there anymore. Neither is your little man. I sort of suspect he's disappeared from our lives. I hope. That was our doorbell. Let's make believe we're not home, Jerry. It might be important. That's what I mean. I've got to see who that is. It's...

Silly being terrified by nothing, Pam. You can answer the door if you wish, darling, but I'm going to keep right on being terrified. Well, if you insist. Oh, no. No, I'm going with you. I want to be terrified and company. All right, but get over to one side. I'm going to open the door. All right, darling. It's the little man. So it is. Won't you come in, please? Thank you. Shut the door, darling. Uh-huh. Are you... Come on, Nora. Yes, I am.

Jerry, he's ill. Not ill. Please, let me speak. They will kill you, Pamela. You need a doctor. You better not bring yourself by speaking. Must speak. Don't need doctors. Must speak. I heard them red-line barred. Kill Pamela North. That's it. That's it. Are you fine? I've got him. He's a lad, isn't he? Heart wrapped up. I'll lay him down here on the sofa. Get his coat open. Shall I phone for a doctor, darling? Yes.

No. There's nothing a doctor can do for him. Dead? Chest full of bullets. Yes, he's dead. Oh, poor little man. But who... He came here to warn you against a murderer, darling. But the murderer got to him first. Well, well, what is all this, do you suppose? Why do you think anyone would want to kill Mrs. Pamela North?

She seems to be the perfectly harmless young woman, don't you think? There must be a reason. Well, I'm afraid we might have to wait for our next performance. Then our guests will be the famous amateur detectives, Mr. and Mrs. North. Oh, uh, incidentally, they are interested in your reaction to our shows. So why don't you ride to the Mystery Playhouse, Armed Forces Radio, Los Angeles, USA...

Telling us what you like or don't like or anything you care to say. If you do that, we'd appreciate hearing from you very much. This is Peter Lorre closing the doors of the Mystery Playhouse. Good night. Sleep tight. Good night.

♪♪ ♪♪

This is the Armed Forces Radio Service. ♪♪

Listen up, folks. Time could be running out to lock in a historic yield at public.com. As of September 23rd, 2024, you can lock in a 6% or higher yield with a bond account. But here's the thing. The Federal Reserve just announced a big rate cut, and the plan is for more rate cuts this year and in 2025 as well. That's good news if you're looking to buy a home, but it might not be so good for the interest you earn on your cash.

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So how about a Closmopolitan or a mistletoe margarita? I'm thirsty. Watch. I just pop in a capsule, choose my strength, and... Wow. It's beginning to feel more seasonal in here already. If your holiday party doesn't have a bartender, then you become the bartender. Unless you've got a Bartesian, because Bartesian crafts every cocktail perfectly in as little as 30 seconds. And I just got it for $50 off. Tis the season to be jollier. ♪

Add some holiday flavor to every celebration with the sleek, sophisticated home cocktail maker, Bartesian. Get $50 off any cocktail maker at bartesian.com slash cocktail. That's B-A-R-T-E-S-I-A-N dot com slash cocktail.

Listen up, folks. Time could be running out to lock in a historic yield at public.com. As of September 23rd, 2024, you can lock in a 6% or higher yield with a bond account. But here's the thing. The Federal Reserve just announced a big rate cut, and the plan is for more rate cuts this year and in 2025 as well. That's good news if you're looking to buy a home, but it might not be so good for the interest you earn on your cash.

So if you want to lock in a 6% or higher yield with a diversified portfolio of high yield and investment grade bonds, you might want to act fast. The good news, it only takes a couple of minutes to sign up at public.com. And once you lock in your yield, you can earn regular interest payments even as rates decline.

Lock in a 6% or higher yield with a bond account at public.com. But hurry, your yield is not locked in until you invest. Brought to you by Public Investing, member FINRA and SIPC. Yield to worst is not guaranteed. Not an investment recommendation. All investing involves risk. Visit public.com slash disclosures for more info.

No purchase necessary. Void where prohibited by law. See terms and conditions 18+.

Alright, we're all set for the party. I've trimmed the tree, hung the mistletoe, and paired all those weird-shaped knives and forks with the appropriate cheeses. And I plugged in the Bartesian. Bartesian? It's a home cocktail maker that makes over 60 premium cocktails, plus a whole lot of seasonal favorites, too. I just got it for

So how about a Closmopolitan or a mistletoe margarita? I'm thirsty. Watch. I just pop in a capsule, choose my strength, and... Wow. It's beginning to feel more seasonal in here already. If your holiday party doesn't have a bartender, then you become the bartender. Unless you've got a Bartesian. Because Bartesian crafts every cocktail perfectly in as little as 30 seconds. And I just got it for $50 off. Tis the season to be jollier.

Add some holiday flavor to every celebration with the sleek, sophisticated home cocktail maker, Bartesian. Get $50 off any cocktail maker at bartesian.com slash cocktail. That's B-A-R-T-E-S-I-A-N dot com slash cocktail. Fantasy. Dead and reaching. Alan. Alan. Alan Blaine. Huh? I thought I heard someone.

Listen to me, Alan. Someone did speak. I spoke to you, Alan. Who's that? Don't be alarmed. There's no one here. No one in this office but myself. I am here. Am I losing my mind? There's no one. Listen to me, Alan. I hear you, but where are you? I am here, but you can't see me. Who are you? Listen to me, Alan. Yes?

How much money are you making? Not much. How much? $25 a week. You're worth more. I know I am. Then why haven't you done something about it? Well, there are hundreds of men who could do my work. I can't afford to lose my job. You won't lose your job, but you will get a better one. What do you mean? Go talk to your employer today, Alan.

Today, you hear? Yes. There's a position open. Assistant manager? Exactly. That's too big a position for me. You're capable of handling it. Go in. Ask for it. Ask for job of assistant manager? Yes. You'll never get it unless you ask for it. Look here. Who are you? Where are you? You cannot see me, Alan, because...

I am not of your world. Are you some devil? Some evil spirit? I assure you, I am not. Then why don't you show yourself to me? I am not permitted to do that. Be thankful that I am able to advise you. Why do you advise me? Because there is much I can do for you. I don't understand your voice.

Out of nowhere. That must not worry you, Alan. Do as I say. Go now. Ask for assistant managership. Go, Alan. Ask for it now. Wait. Don't wait, Alan. Wait. I want to talk to you some more. Don't wait until it's too late. I warn you. Come back. Come back. Look here. What's all the commotion about? Sit down, Mrs. Evans. What? I said sit down, ma'am.

Here, I have something to talk to you about. I want to know what the shouting out here was about. Never mind that, Mrs. Evans. I have something much more important to discuss with you. And just what's that, Mr. Blaine? It's about the assistant managership. Well? Well, you see, I was just thinking. Go on. No, I was just thinking that perhaps... Go ahead. Go ahead, Alan. Tell her you want the job.

Did you hear something, Mrs. Evans? I'm waiting to hear who you have in mind for the job that's open. I'll take that job, Mrs. Evans. What? What did you say? I said I'll take that job. Why, I hadn't thought of that. You might handle the job all right. Yes. Yes, you might. Come on in the office, Blaine. Let's talk this thing over. Assistant manager's office. Oh, Judith, darling. How are you? Are you coming down to see my new office?

Oh, I thought you said you'd try to make it today. Well, I've had my new job for two weeks now, and I... All right, dear. Yes. Goodbye. I can't understand Judith lately. Seems like she's avoiding me. Don't trust her, Alan. You again. Don't trust her, Alan. Don't trust her. What? Don't trust her. Don't trust her, Alan. I warn you.

She's not to be trusted. Oh, it's you, Alan. Hello, darling. May I come in? Yes, I suppose so. My, you're beautiful tonight. Am I? Oh, that dress looks wonderful on you. I'm glad you're all dressed up. Honey, we're going to celebrate. Alan. I've just been promoted, darling. Now I'm making enough for us to live on. Come on, let's paint the town. And when we find just the right spot, I'm going to ask you to marry me again. Aren't you going to say something, Judith?

I have an engagement tonight, Alan. Oh, but you can call it off. No, I'm afraid I can't. Think what's happened to us. Now I'm making the money you always wanted me to make. You'll have to go now, Alan. What? I've just a few minutes to finish with my makeup. You'll have to go now. But, Judith. Please, Alan. Now, wait a minute. Alan, really. I've asked you to go. I haven't much time. Oh, so you haven't much time.

Well, let me tell you something, Judith West. No, Alan. Yes, Alan? Let you tell me what? Don't say it, Alan. Don't. Well, Alan? Don't say it, Alan. I warn you, there'll be a quarrel. You'll kill her this time if you quarrel. I'm waiting, Alan. Never mind. Just forget it. Good evening, my dear. Alan, perhaps I should have told you last night...

I didn't, so I'm writing to you now. You've made quite a fool of yourself over me for some time now. I've only permitted you to believe I loved you because I've always felt sorry for you. Now you're successful, and so I write you the truth. I'm being married tomorrow to a man from South America. I've never loved you. I know that I never can, and so I'm writing to you. Miss Adams, will you please call me at 11.30? I have a 12 o'clock luncheon date.

Hmm. A letter from Judith. It's probably an apology for last night. I wonder what she said. Hmm. Alan, perhaps I should have told you. Writing to you now. Quite a fool of yourself. Always felt sorry for you. Being married tomorrow. I have never loved you. Never loved me? Oh, she can't mean that. Yet she wrote it.

Yes, she wrote it. Oh, sorry.

So she's been playing ball with me all these years. Felt sorry for me, did she? Sorry. Well, I'll make her sorry. I'll show her. I'll kill her. No, Alan. Yes, I'll kill her. Don't go to her, Alan. I'll show her. I'll show her she can't toss me off like an old glove. Put that gun back, Alan. No. Put it back in the drawer, I say. No, no. I warn you, you'll be sorry if you don't put the gun away and calm yourself. I won't, and you can't stop me. No, I can't.

- Stop you. - Nothing can stop me. Nobody, not now. So she feels sorry for me. Well, I wonder if she'll feel sorry for herself with a bullet in her cheating heart. All right, darling. I'll meet you at eight. Yes, I've written a note to Alan. I've broken things off completely. All right, dear. Goodbye. Yes? Who's there?

Who's there? Who is it? Alan. What do you want? Alan. Oh, no, Alan! Alan. Alan. Listen to me. Go sober yourself up, Alan. Oh, go away. You've lost your job. Spent all your money. This is no way out. Leave me alone. I want to help you. Help me?

Why didn't you leave me alone to begin with? I warned you not to go to her apartment. You're a murderer now, Alan. You're wanted by the police. Oh, go away. Go away. You should have listened to me. I was trying to guide you. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. I know what you're thinking. You're tired. The spirits aren't enough for you now. You want something else.

Don't do it, Alan. Stay away from it. No. I'm not listening to you anymore. I'm not listening. Do you hear me? Go away. I'm not listening to a thing you say. Pleased to come in. A friend of mine sent me. Jake Mullins. Oh, Honorable Mr. Mullins. So, young C4, glad to help any plan, Honorable Mr. Mullins. He said I could...

Forget my troubles here. Trouble? You have trouble, please? Maybe. You want maybe sleep, sleep? Anything. Anything to stop this awful burning in my mind. You smoke, maybe? Me fix spell. You sleep. Yes, sleep. You lie here, please. Stretch out. Make comfortable. Yes. Here. You smoke this. Take pipe. You sleep. Yes.

Yes. So, you feel better by and by. No, no, no, no. Please do lie down. You smoke. Pretty soon. Sleep, sleep. Don't, Alan. I beg you. Don't smoke that. Go away. Please, not to shout. Tell him to go away. There is no one. Don't do it, Alan. You hear him? I hear no one. Now, please, to be quiet. Just smoke. Pretty soon. Sleep, sleep.

It's too late now, Alan. I tried to warn you, but it's too late now. Where am I? So strange. Peaceful. What's this? Book. Old. Rotting. Why, a diary. Blame. That was my great-grandfather's name. This was his diary. Where am I? Seems like a cave. Yes, it is a cave. My clothes.

So neat and so clean. Yesterday... Yes, even today I was almost ragged. I remember too, I was tired. Worn. Now... Now I feel refreshed. How did I get here in this cave? That light from a fire. I can read the book by the fire. Yes, we are now in the midst of a dreadful civil war. I fear everything I own is lost. I have only managed to save my gold...

I figure its value at more than $80,000. I have buried it today beneath the horse stall at the east end of a barn. It will never be found there. Gold. Buried beneath a horse stall in the barn. At what barn? It's daylight. Perhaps if I get out of this cave... Yes. There's the opening. Yes, it is daylight. And there's the farm over there. It's an old farm.

Maybe if I go over there, I'll find what I want. Oh!

You say this farm did belong to old Aaron Blaine? That's right, boss man. About the time of the Civil War was, I reckon, my pappy done worked for him. Who owns the place now? I reckon Uncle Sam do now, boss man. I pays the taxes when I can, and they lets me live here. Got myself a horse out there in the barn here. Good old racing horse he is, and that barn's about to fall down. Yeah, I see it is. Yeah, well, over this way, boss man. All right.

Are you sure this barn's been standing since the Civil War? Sure has, boss man. I used to prop it up here and there once in a while. Won't go to pieces any day now. There's old Sunday Bull. Oh, that old Sunday Bull. He was asking about a spade here, mister.

Well, there's one right over here. Yeah. Now set the lantern down right there. Keep that animal back. I'm going to start digging. Digging, Ballsberry? Yes. And if I find what I'm looking for, you and I are going to be rich.

There it is. Lord have mercy, boss man. Something bad there? Yeah, a metal box. Come on, help me get it out of there. Okay, boss man. Did you get a hold of that corner? I think so. The pool's hot enough. All right. There. Good work. Got a lock on it. You'll fix that. Golly, it's heavy.

Ah, there we are. Lord, a messy boss man. Look at that gold. Yeah, gold. Eighty thousand dollars worth of gold. What's that? Must be the Pearson boys. Who? The Pearson boys, boss man. Who are they? They've been trying to get this farm over. They ain't got enough money to pay the back taxes. Folks around here always said they know there was gold buried here someplace.

They must have seen you nowadays trying to scare y'all. It's a good thing it's night. I was going to come down here this afternoon, but I decided to stay in the cave till dark. Cave, you say, boss man? Yeah, over toward the hills. We better get ourselves over there, boss. Who's going to keep us here gold? Them Pearson boys been looking for it for ten years. If they catch us with it, they's going to take it away from us.

Boss, I reckon I can't stay here much longer. We've got to stay here. I was home. So am I. We can't leave this cave until those murdering thieves out there go away. Boss, we done been here two nights and a day. They've gone now, Alan. You again. Who, boss, me? It's safe now, Alan. Boss, man, what you looking so funny about? You look like you done heard a spook or something talking. You can go out now, Alan. They've gone away.

Come along, Sam. Are we going to leave here, boss man? Yeah. Help me carry this box. How come you didn't change your mind? I didn't. It was changed for me. Come along. Careful there. Sure will be good to wrap this old boy around a good thick old steak and maybe a fat old chicken. Easy now. Careful.

Let's scout around behind this tall grass. All right, boss man. You all watch your step out here. There's lots of snakes over here. Snakes? Yes, big ones too, boss man, and pies. Come on, over this way. Wait a minute. Huh? Look, over there. Lordy, boss man, that's an old grave. Yeah, come on. Good Lord, look. Boss man, lookie over there. A bony, fleshless hand.

Reaching up out of the grave. Bossman, how come there's a hand over there? Whoever that was, they buried him alive. Come on, bossman. I don't feel none too comfortable around here. Wait a minute. Something scratched into this tombstone. I can't quite make out what it says. That's better. What does it say, boss? I can't read. It says, Aaron Blaine. Aaron Blaine. Died August 16th.

1861. August 16, 1861. My great-grandfather buried alive. Lord have mercy, your grandpappy. I didn't die then. I was only unconscious from exhaustion. They thought I was dead, so they brought me here.

Where are you? I brought you here to show you this. How did I get here? The opium removed the spirit from your body. I brought it here.

Oh, take me back. You can never return. Yes, take me back. I have the gold now. I'll be rich. No. Yes, take me back. Take me back, I say. Boseman, look at that ass knee. No. Run, Boseman. He done bit you, you idiot. Poison. I've been poisoned by that snake. I can't... Help me. Help me. Help me.

I can't get back. No, Alan. I warned you. Now, you'll never get back. Fantasy. You have heard Dead Hands Reaching. Tonight's original tale of dark fantasy by Scott Bishop. Originating in the studios of WKY.

The picturization story of Dead End's Reaching appears in the May 16th issue of Movie Radio Guide. Ben Morris was heard as Alan Blaine. Eleanor Naylor-Corin played Judith West. Muir Height was Jung Si-Fu. Georgiana Cook played Mrs. Evans. And Daryl McAllister was Aaron Blaine, the voice from beyond. Next Friday, listen to Dark Fantasy 35 minutes earlier at 11.30 p.m. Eastern Wartime

10.30 Central War Time. Listen for Rendezvous with Satan. Another unusual adventure by Scott Bishop. Tom Paxton speaking. Dark Fantasy comes to you each Friday night from Oklahoma City. This is the National Broadcasting Company. ♪♪

Heads up, folks. Interest rates are falling. But as of September 23rd, 2024, you can still lock in a 6% or higher yield with a bond account at public.com. That's a pretty big deal because when rates drop, so can the interest you earn on your cash. A bond account allows you to lock in a 6% or higher yield with a diversified portfolio of high-yield and investment-grade corporate bonds.

So while other people are watching their returns shrink, you can sit back with regular interest payments. But you might want to act fast because your yield is not locked in until you invest. The good news, it only takes a couple of minutes to sign up at public.com. Lock in a 6% or higher yield with a bond account only at public.com.

Brought to you by Public Investing, member FINRA and SIPC. Yield to worst is not guaranteed. Not an investment recommendation. All investing involves risk. Visit public.com slash disclosures for more info.

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group. Void where prohibited by law. 18 plus. Terms and conditions apply. All right, we're all set for the party. I've trimmed the tree, hung the mistletoe, and paired all those weird-shaped knives and forks with the appropriate cheeses. And I plugged in the partition. Partition? It's a home cocktail maker that makes over 60 premium cocktails, plus a whole lot of seasonal favorites, too. I just got it for

So how about a Closmopolitan or a mistletoe margarita? I'm thirsty. Watch. I just pop in a capsule, choose my strength, and... Wow. It's beginning to feel more seasonal in here already. If your holiday party doesn't have a bartender, then you become the bartender. Unless you've got a Bartesian. Because Bartesian crafts every cocktail perfectly in as little as 30 seconds. And I just got it for $50 off. Tis the season to be jollier.

Add some holiday flavor to every celebration with the sleek, sophisticated home cocktail maker, Bartesian. Get $50 off any cocktail maker at bartesian.com slash cocktail. That's B-A-R-T-E-S-I-A-N dot com slash cocktail.

Heads up, folks. Interest rates are falling. But as of September 23rd, 2024, you can still lock in a 6% or higher yield with a bond account at public.com. That's a pretty big deal because when rates drop, so can the interest you earn on your cash. A bond account allows you to lock in a 6% or higher yield with a diversified portfolio of high-yield and investment-grade corporate bonds.

So while other people are watching their returns shrink, you can sit back with regular interest payments. But you might want to act fast because your yield is not locked in until you invest. The good news, it only takes a couple of minutes to sign up at public.com. Lock in a 6% or higher yield with a bond account only at public.com.

Brought to you by Public Investing, member FINRA and SIPC. Yield to worst is not guaranteed. Not an investment recommendation. All investing involves risk. Visit public.com slash disclosures for more info.

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Add some holiday flavor to every celebration with the sleek, sophisticated home cocktail maker, Bartesian. Get $50 off any cocktail maker at bartesian.com slash cocktail. That's B-A-R-T-E-S-I-A-N dot com slash cocktail. Now listen here, Inspector. We're visitors in your country, I know. And we're aware of public feeling. But this affair is my concern. Colonel, forgive me, but I think you're more concerned with reputation than with facts.

The American servicemen in Britain don't antagonize the native kind of thing. Stars and stripes forever, you know. If you're trying to annoy me, Inspector Crisp, you're going the right way about it. Any black marketing on my base and I deal with it. I'm afraid it's gone beyond that. Intelligence have asked us to hand the case over to them.

I see. Look, I didn't ask you guys to get in on this in the first place. You cops, I mean. Before I know it, a bit of malarkey on the side has blown up into an international incident. Colonel, I'm giving Weald of Intelligence a ring right now. I want to know his impressions. You can rest assured, Inspector, that this will go further. I'm sure it will. Oh, get me Weald of Military Intelligence, please. We'll be right back.

Goodyear presents The Sounds of Darkness. The Sounds of Darkness

Good evening. The Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company, makers of passenger, truck, and tractor tires for every requirement in South Africa's farming, commerce, and industry, bring you Lee Masters, the blind detective who challenges...

The Sounds of Darkness. The Sounds of Darkness.

In tonight's Sounds of Darkness, you will hear Tony Jay as Lee Masters, James White as Johnny Bridges, and Elaine Lee as Samantha Darlington. And now let's join the world of Lee Masters in tonight's Sounds of Darkness, Birds for Sale. Birds for Sale

Well, Lee, I know NATO's not the happy group it should be. The girl wants us to supply them with atom bomb warheads, and West Germany wants the same. Yeah. France finds making its own warheads expensive.

But I meant the major ramifications, Johnny. U.S., Britain. I thought that'd die down now. We're still resented in England, in many ways. That's why we've been called in. To catch a criminal. I get it. To show that the good old U.S. shows no partiality. That only justice counts. That's right. You know Colonel Baker, Johnny? Texas man talks big like a morrow. Can't take being criticized. He thinks his black marketing is peanuts?

He won't let himself see the implications. Projectile equipment is finding its way over the channel. From there, not just to NATO-aligned countries, but others. Yugoslavia...

East Berlin. Maybe we could include a trip to Paris, too, huh? Maybe. Fasten your seatbelt, Johnny. What for? We will be landing in approximately five minutes. Kindly fasten your safety belt, please, and extinguish your cigarette. We shall be landing in approximately five minutes. Kindly fasten your seatbelt, please, and extinguish your cigarette.

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

Good afternoon, gentlemen. I see you've arrived safe and well. I'm Colonel Baker, Tex Baker. My name is Masters. Lee Masters. We've heard of you, Mr. Masters. Johnny Bridges. How do you do, Mr. Bridges? How's New York? It's still there. Remind me to take a vacation sometime. I haven't been out of England for close on two years now. Must say, I'd like to see the States again.

A good trip? Yeah. Let me say at the outset that I don't think your presence here is necessary. I referred the matter to our intelligence officer, and he suggested we call in you gentlemen. For my own sake, I'd rather have left it and dealt with it ourselves. Don't apologize, Colonel.

Johnny and I would much rather have stayed in New York. Oh, hang on, Lee. But we were called in to represent our government. And represented we shall. You speak your mind, Mr. Masters. I like that. You know the setup? I know that the English police called in their intelligence. And that you resent this. Of course I resent it. Wouldn't you? Look, there's always a bit of selling on the quiet. I know this. You know this.

As commanding officer of this base, I shouldn't admit it does, but I deal in facts. It exists, so I can talk about it. I don't jump down on it because the boys will get up to something else if I do. Like selling warheads instead? Say that again? Someone from this base is selling projectile parts, Colonel. Oh.

How and when and where, I don't know. That's very different from black marketing cigarettes and candy from the PX. Sure, I know that. But you're one jump ahead of me, Mr. Masters. I was about to say that nothing is missing from this base. Everything can be accounted for. I know what's happened. These parts have filtered into France and elsewhere from another source.

My boys have a bad name for themselves. We're being made scapegoats. You think so? I'd like to meet your projectile officer. Is that necessary? It's necessary. And I want to speak with Weald. Okay, I'll lay it on. We

Wheels are honey, tough as they come. And so anti-U.S., he's fighting the war of independence all over again and imagining his sides winning. Ring him for me, would you? Will do. You'll be staying at the base. I have quarters for you. No, we'll move back to London later. Well, that's my boy, Lee. Seems like you think this is a waste of time, too, Mr. Bridges. Wrong, Colonel. I just want to see London town, that's all.

Who is your projectile officer, Colonel? Major Max Tiersen. I want to see him now. Arrange it, please. You guys like to get things done, huh? What about after lunch? He's busy now. I'd like to see him in ten minutes, Colonel. You'll forget I'm commanding officer of this base, Mr. Masters. I haven't forgotten. As such, you have the authority to get him here fast.

Arrange it, please. See what's going on over there? That's what we do every day.

Move the rockets out, move them back again. Drive them, elevate, stand by to fire, then remove the essentials. Take the birds back inside, bring them out again. And what for? Just to keep our hands in. If you receive a go signal, what happens? Oh, we're prepared for that. The rockets are never dismantled on block. Half the assembly section is left standing and ready to fly. You see, that half covers the amount we're supposed to have in agreement with the British government. The other half?

The half you play around with? Well, just a precaution, but don't talk about it, please. If John Bull got to know how many rockets we got standing by, he'd swallow his pipe. That is, if he smoked a pipe.

Okay. Anything else you want to see? You keep inventories of projectile parts? Well, naturally. What's missing? Nothing. Well, how come this investigation, then? Nothing's missing that's essential. By itself, I mean. Oh, we have the art park going, frame replacement, wing girdle, parts like that. But each part we've ever missed won't help anyone build a projectile. The other half is needed. Well, of course, that's right. So far, nothing big has gone.

Say, I don't know why you guys would call in. If certain parts found their way overseas, they could be duplicated, copied? Why, sure. But a whole rocket could be duplicated by anyone sitting on that hill over there, just looking down here with a pair of binoculars. Now, the point is, nothing has gone from this base that merits the fuss that these here are raising. They seem to think an investigation is merited.

So does Gridley, your intelligence officer. Oh, him. Yeah. He'd ring Washington if he lost his ballpoint. You want to see my inventories? Please. Okay, this way. Yeah, I sure wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of one of those birds, Ellie. Just one of them and, bam, finish, huh? Hey, Jed. Yeah? Who's that civilian over there? Hang on. Oh, with the colonel.

Uh-oh. Oh, that's Wheel, I think. Yeah, it is. I'll take you there first. Knowing him, he'll want to have a look-see at the inventory, too. He is to be allowed to see what you have, Major. Now, look here. Okay, okay, if the Colonel says so. He'll say so. Come on, Johnny, quit gawking. You're five paces behind us as it is. Come on.

I don't smoke, do you? Occasionally. But not a pipe. And not Three Kings. How the devil did you know what I smoke? Easy. We have that brand in the States, too. And you've been digging at that pipe for the last two minutes. With matches. You break one in half and scrape. Has a small bowl. The pipe. You're right.

May I confess something? I hadn't heard of you, but when I heard that you were, well... Blind. As you will. Blind. I wondered what the FBI was coming to. I'll take it back. How far have you got on this? Oh, not far at all. Frankly, the projectile parts have turned up in Europe. They've been traced back to England. And the base concerned. That's all so far. Hmm.

Well, I've not questioned anyone here. It's obvious who the culprit must be. Oh, when the Owen cries died down, I'll move in on him. Who? Frank, the police here could have dealt with it themselves, you know.

You chaps could have said to those the expense of a trip. It was obvious that... I've been looking for you, Limey. What do you think you're up to? Seeing my girl asking her questions, making accusations? Listen, I'm going to... Stop him, Johnny. Thanks, old man. Wasn't necessary. Well, I suppose I'll have to make the rest now. It's a pity.

I'd like you to come with me, please, Major Telson. I'm taking you into custody. Still think I'm wasting time, Johnny? Yeah, Lee, I do. Look, Wield has handed Telson back to us for court-martial and imprisonment in the state. Okay, he's doing it the easy way. The Major could have found himself on maybe an espionage charge if Wield hadn't intervened on his behalf. Wield is complacent.

He's buckled up. Show mercy to the guilty. Shove him back to the States. Morning, gentlemen. You're still anxious to see the Major? Yeah. Must say, Kay was a surprise to me, too. A nice guy, Max. I wouldn't think he'd get involved in a thing like this. He was a prime suspect, though, Colonel. Yeah, maybe. But a commanding officer gets to know his men quite well.

I'd have laid down my life if Max Pearson wouldn't do a thing like this. I mean, why? Money, obviously. Must be. That's what Wield says. Yet I don't believe it. That's the evidence, Colonel. Lee here doesn't agree with me. No. Not with Johnny. Nor with you, Colonel. Look behind the obvious. Yeah. Anyway, it's over and done with now. Max will be shipped back to the States after the court-martial. Of course, he'll be given the boot.

I reckon his life's over, in one respect. You'd think maybe he'd yell his head off, if he were innocent, I mean. And yell his head off, too, if he were guilty. I would, knowing I'd be sitting in a prison for a good few years. And what's he made out of it? A few measly bucks. I don't think he made anything, Johnny. I don't think he did it. You won't get anything out of Pearson. He's clammed up. Like he knows something, but won't talk. Well, I still want to talk to him, Colonel. Sure, go ahead.

I must leave you now, gentlemen. I have a conference. That's Sergeant Wheeler approaching. He'll take you to the major. Sergeant Wheeler is another of the guys you'll be sorry to see next go. Anyway, I'll see you.

Oh, I'm sorry I'm late. I'll take you to the major. Okay. Lead on. What do the men think, Sergeant Wheeler? Well, they're sorry for the major, but, well, he's got what he deserves. Selling projectile parts is no joke. Oh, well, here we are. Come on.

Who is it? Lee Masters. Hold on. What do you want? I want to talk to you, Major. Look, I... Okay, company's company. Oh, thank you, Sergeant. Oh, that's okay, sir. Having fun, Major? Yeah. On your way, buddy boy. Okay.

Well, take a seat, gentlemen. I'll stand. Well, at least you're not in a cell. That's something to say for protective custody. They don't need bars to hold me in. Camp's well guarded. Tomorrow, they'll let me out. For the court-martial. You didn't do it, did you, Major? No, I didn't. Like I told Will, the others, and you too. Honey, I'm tired of saying it now. Watertight case. Access to the projectiles.

My girl's evidence, money, all that jazz. I told Will as well that she lied, but who cares? You do. Because you know the implications behind this. Small-time black marketing, but dangerous. Two reputations. Britain's. Ours. You think there's an agent behind it, Lee? No, no, I don't. Just a guy crazy for money.

Maybe something else. Major, I'm not leaving here until you're cleared. Look, I go on trial tomorrow. Forget it. It's nice of you guys, but don't knock yourselves out. I've always been something of a philosopher. Just leave it be, will you? I want your permission to talk to Linda Fersham. My girl, you can do it without my permission. Why do you ask? I think Lee's wrong, Major. I'll be frank.

I think maybe you are responsible, because you don't protest your innocence. If I were innocent and heading for a... David, Johnny, your wife know about Linda, Major? Seems like nothing's private, huh? Okay, you can't rile me. No, she doesn't know. Luckily, nothing was in the papers, and I can cover when I get back. Can you? Why don't you want the guilty party caught? I want him caught, all right, but...

Well, like I said, I'm a philosopher. Your girl, your mistress, lied to the police. To Weald. Yeah. Rumor has it you wanted out from marriage. You wanted to marry Linda. Yeah. Yeah, that's all in the past now. Maybe I'm not such a quiet guy after all. Go on, beat it. Come on, Johnny. You got the address? Yeah.

How long are we going to sit in this car, Lee? Until the light in her apartment goes on. I would have spoken to her before, but I wanted to see Pearson first. The light on yet? No, not yet. I was going to ask you, what makes you think the Major isn't behind it? A woman lies. Why? To save a man if she loves him.

To sink him, if she doesn't. Major Tearson is a serious man. He doesn't consider divorce lightly. So? He loves Linda. Wants to marry her. He told her that, my slave. Okay. She sinks him. Why? Another man. From the base? Well, why not? Friendly with the Major and his mistress. Trusted by the Major. With the woman. And the projectile parts. Frames him. Using the woman.

Simple. Like heck it's simple, Lee. You're gonna... Hey, the light's on now. Lead me up there, Johnny. Fast. You have no right to ask me these questions. Haven't I? Major Tearson will get five years inside. He'll be a broken man. But he'll go through with it. For your sake. For what was...

Between you. I love Max still. But I had to tell the police the truth. I wanted to lie, can you see? But that thin man wheeled around something. He made me tell the truth. Where were you tonight, Miss Fersham? Celebrating? You smell of brandy. Why, you...

Actually, it's quite funny. I could call the police, you know, and have you thrown out of my flat. Go ahead and do it. I will. I promise you, I will. No, you won't. Because there's no need to, is there? You could throw us out right now if you wanted. What do you mean? The room smells of tobacco. You haven't lit a cigarette in...

How long, Johnny? Twenty minutes? Yeah, Lee, exactly. So you don't smoke? I do. Heavily. Smoking goes with drinking. Goes with being questioned. Being nervous. On edge. But you haven't smoked. So? What are you getting at? Another thing. You've paced the floor once or twice. Light steps. Woman's steps. When we knocked, there were heavier steps. They stopped.

Then yours, to the door. I'll tell you what I'm getting at, Linda. I think you framed the Major. Because your new boyfriend was close to being found out. And he didn't want his dollar line cut. You can't prove it. There is no one here. And the Major won't voice his suspicions for fear of ridicule. He'd rather take the rap than be laughed at. The girl he loves.

Two-timing him. No, I've had enough! Get out of here! Get out! You should have waited, you know, before inviting your new boyfriend back to your apartment. Don't you know no case is ever really closed, Johnny? Really? I kind of think the bathroom door's shut. Right? Yeah.

Yeah, you want me to... Look out, Lee! The light's gone out! Lee! Lee, are you all right? Okay, men. I'll let masters take over now. I was assaulted last night by a man who I know ran the black market from your base.

The colonel tells me each one of you, Sergeants Wheeler, Felixson, Polensky, Smith, Davis, is a projectile detachment sergeant. Each one of you worked in close liaison with Major Tearsome, had almost as much access to the projectile stores. One had more, the major's girl, Johnny. Bring her in. Okay, Lee.

Hi, Linda. We'll talk to you. Yes. You told me what would happen if I withheld information. Who was with you last night? I... I can't tell you. I can't. Okay, okay. Take it easy. I expected as much.

Johnny, get each man to hold out his right hand in front of him. Last night, I collected a right-fisted punch. On the fourth finger was a signet ring, square in shape. I felt it. Okay, who has a ring, Johnny? Only one man on the right hand, Lee, but it's small-fingered. Okay, hang on. So whoever it is has taken it off.

Any marks on the fourth fingers, Johnny? Sunburn? Then white? No. And no, Lee. Let me feel your hands, each one of you. Felixson? No. Polenski? No. Smith? No. Davis? No. Wheeler? Didn't anyone ever tell you...

that a ring leaves an indentation, Wheeler. You've got it on the fourth finger of your right hand. You can't prove it, Masters. Can't I? Look at Linda. She'll break in time. Won't you, honey? THE END

So ends tonight's Sounds of Darkness, presented to your entertainment by the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company, makers of world-famous passenger tires, truck and tractor tires for every requirement in South Africa's farming, commerce and industry. The Sounds of Darkness. The Sounds of Darkness

The Sons of Darkness is produced by Hedy van Dyck.

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Deep Night.

There is a boundary that marks the scene from the invisible, a veil separating the well-lit world of the familiar from another place, less easily known.

We might try to escape, but try as we may, we are pulled back, only to find ourselves more heavily shackled in the shadows. Eero may look like your typical teenage boy, but everyone in town knows he has a secret. So does the town he lives in. For what Eero knows, he faces oblivion in the darkness of deep night. Tonight, Bonehouse by Kendra Fanconi.

When I say something, there it is. The sentence ends and the next one starts. They don't go around in a circle. One goes after another. I lay these sentences end to end, like laying a road. When I talk, I am not talking about anything, but towards something. There is no good road out of the town where I grew up.

The closest town to us is long distance over bad roads along the number one highway. If you ask someone there about us, they'll say they see one of our townsmen when he comes for supplies, but mostly we keep to ourselves. They'll say only good folks live here. There is no story to the contrary they can pass along, so you won't have heard of us before now. Maybe you have driven through the prairies on the number one. By now you are a long way off. Hopefully,

This story is long enough to reach you. If it does, you can pass it on. If everybody tells everybody else, I'll be better off. This story is the secret of this town. The first time I run away, I run right back. I get caught halfway on a barbed wire fence, and two old farmers find me. They lead me home.

They stay outside while I eat in the kitchen. I hear them in the yard until I fall asleep. I open my eyes. It's morning. I am in my bed and the old farmers are gone. The sun is up. Everyone is in the barn. I should hightail it down there. Instead, I go to M's. Now, M is really M-Zena.

We still use the old names, though most of them are falling apart by now. Ems is one of them. She runs the diner and I'm in love with her. She is someone in between a grandma and a girlfriend. Which means, if I were littler, I would crawl up on her lap and put my nose on her neck. And if I were bigger, I'd pull her onto my lap and put my chin on her head. As it is, I eat pancakes and Em talks. That way both our mouths are busy.

The pancakes are good. But the coffee? It tastes like slew. Hey! Ah! Watch your mouth. Why? Doesn't it, Em? Good morning, Em. Must be midnight. If it were morning, then you'd be at your chores. No one woke me for chores. I'll bring you pancakes. Last night, I tried to run away. Well, Eero, what should be such a thing now?

I can tell you the founders of this town were all runaways. They were? Mm-hmm. My grandfather left the old country first. Landed in Newfoundland, put on his shoes and walked a thousand miles. What stopped him? Well, his feet got sore. So he sat a while here with his feet in the creek. He had to soak his shoes to get them off. I like to imagine a walk like that.

The soil here looks so good you could sprinkle it on ice cream. He wrote that in a letter to his brother and the men started coming. Oh, they were ornery cusses but they hammered themselves together till they stuck. We are the timber and the pegs of this town so if you pull one of us out the whole thing crashes down. You're going to say, well, folks die and yes they do. We lose some and that's a blow. It hits us the same way a spring storm shakes a barn.

the barn itself doesn't get up and wander away. This town is here because I pour coffee and you eat pancakes. That's the secret of this town. You and me are holding it together. You know, you got a job to do. I took a bite so big my cheeks hurt. It meant I understood. M slid three more pancakes on my plate. I had to finish them quick. I had chores. I had school. I had to help in the fields. I had to grow up.

Grow crops, improve the well, harvest and butcher. I had a new barn to raise. I had my parents to bury and children to sire. I had to raise them right and marry them off. I had to lose my hair and get a hat and become an old farmer. I'm off now, Em. We'll be seeing you. I heard you ran away last night, Eero. Oh, yes, sir. How come? I...

Just had an itch. Now if you had a mosquito bite and it itched, would you scratch it? Uh, no, I wouldn't. Doesn't help to scratch an itch. You should slap it. There you go, boy. That should cure you. We have a preacher in town, but we listen to the old farmers. They have seen everything.

The Bible, as far as we can tell, happened over in a desert with sand dunes and olive trees. That's far off from us. If there is a question in town, we take it to the old farmers. They take their answers from the land. Everything is flat here. No person is different from any other person. We eat the same and sleep and wake the same. We plant together and harvest together. And the old farmers tell us what to do next.

Now I'll tell you about the second time I ran away. It's plowing time. We boys are sent ahead into the furrows to pick out stones. We pitch them over the fence and into the prairie grass. The men are behind with the horses. The tractor is rusting by the barn. So, I am working on it. All the boys are. There's a little one.

There's two, there's three, and there's one. Two, three, four... Hey, look at him. What are you doing, hero? Same as you. Pitching rocks. Nuh-uh. We are hauling out the big 'uns. You're just messing with pebbles. Sure I am. If you let a small rock in the ground, it's gonna grow like a potato. And then the next year it would be a rock as big as your head.

Pebbles are little rock seeds. Is that for real? I figured it out. Makes sense, don't it? Don't be a cuss. Hey, that hurt. You're lucky it wasn't a rock. You dumb cuss. Hey! Hey, Eero, where are you going? I dive through the fence and run. The boys aren't far behind me. The men aren't far behind them. The ladies are worrying the railing off the porch.

I don't get any further than the butt brush. Where are you going? Old Paavo has my arm. The others walk ahead. You wonder if there's something out there for you. Why shouldn't we let you go find out? Let's think about that. Say you leave. You're gone. Only one.

All the other boys are left wondering what you're doing out there while they do your chores. They'll picture you and Saskatoon taking up with movie stars. Yeah. Another will follow you. And the ones who are left now, they do double the work. So they go too. And when the boys are gone, they'll get to the men. We'll lose our men.

What happens to this town with no boys and no men? But I... Yeah, well, the crops don't go in the ground, and you, they don't come out. And the fences will fall, and the cows will wander. And when snow comes, the roof caves, and we are left bare to the sky as old men. And the good women and the little babes in their arms. That's how this town will die.

Is it fair for one boy to wander and kill the whole town? What do you think about that? We went back to the fields. That year, you could shoot a rifle down the furrows they were so straight. That year, instead of golden, the wheat turns brown. The others head home for dinner. I sneak off towards the sick horse stable, till my sister Una calls me. You can almost hear her from there, can't you?

I don't pay her any mind. I keep walking. Una talks in circles. Her sentences go round and round. Eero! Time to get up. Your chores are waiting. And take that swill pail. Eero! Those cows want milking, then come to supper. Eero! She is surly on account of the drought and the grasshoppers. These things don't fuss my father. There is a Finnish word for the thing he has. Sisu.

Sisu is what keeps you sitting in the sauna. Downright cussedness. He has it. Sitting in the sauna, sausages are curing in the smoke by his head and he doesn't budge. When I get to the stable door, my father is waiting. Hiro? Yes, sir? When you see a sky like that, what does it mean? I look up. One of the clouds is a horse. Anyone could see that. It is flying in the wind.

A horse. Now, around here they tell us to learn from the animals. When you see a bush rabbit dozing, it is too hot to be in the fields. If your dog takes a bite out of your neighbor's dog, your two families better eat together that night. Better to eat together than to eat each other. An animal will teach you that. A horse has got secret wings. Look at that horse in the sky and tell him what it means. Maybe I got wings too I don't know about.

But if I knew how to work him, I'd fly too. He puts his hand on my shoulder so hard my heels sink in the ground. A cloud like that means rain. Suddenly I'm in the dirt. Cover up the hay. Still in the dirt when he walks off. I roll on my back. A cloud that is a horse turns into a hand and points to me. I am 13 and my brain is growing curly instead of straight. I put my hand down on something in the grass.

I sit up. I stand up. And I'm running full tilt towards Em's. The diner is almost full up. Shucks. I order myself some pie. In the afternoon, Em serves herself a piece of pie to keep you company. She keeps it at your table and eats a forkful when she's by. A problem needs pie like a crop needs rain. Blackberry, Eero. Thanks, Em. Something wrong? Not exactly. What's in your hand?

Fork? Other one? Oh, nothing. Can I see it? A rock. Look on the other side, Em. That rock's got a seashell pressed right in it. See? My, my, must be a fossil. That is a rock from a hayfield caught thinking about the ocean. I'm not the only one who wants to get out of here. Shh, shh, shh. Shoot, I...

I didn't mean... Eero, I am going to tell you something now. And you are going to listen, so shut your yap and open your ears. Okay. I'm going to tell you about a rabbit. Now, a rabbit is a living thing. Because it's either real good at hiding or real good at running. You better be good at one or the other, Eero. Hiding or running. That is my last bite of pie. I go to hide that rock in the sick horse stable. I have a collection hidden in the straw.

See, we got stone fruit around here. Nothing unusual there. Anyone I know can eyeball a low branch of cherries and predict the size of the pie. The first cherry I ate this year had a triple pit in it, stuck together like a snowman. I got another pebble, winks at you like an eyeball. And when Em had a gallstone removed, well, the doctor didn't want it.

Then, there's a chunk of shale in the shape of the state of Texas. My brother had it in his hand and was gonna chuck it. Did you know that if you took the state of Texas and flipped it up, the tip of it would nearly touch our town? I caught that rock mid-air, and my hand stung till supper. I lay them all out. It isn't enough to look at them. I want to sit on them like a hen. I don't tell anyone about my collection. Of course, everyone finds out.

Now what's that you got? I show him. Old Seppo puts each rock in his palm and closes his fingers. This man has been a dairyman all his life, so he can't hardly know a thing without milking it a little. What do you think? You think they're all special. But what matters, boy, is that they're all stones. Old Seppo pours them into my hands. Come with me. We walk out to the edge of the field. The stones don't belong in a horse stable. Ah, I see.

I get home where you belong. Instead, I wait in the grass till sundown. The third time I run because the horizon is the only thing left alive. Maybe they were watching me from their windows. I reach the buffalo rubbing stone. It's a decent place to catch my breath. I am crouching, watching. The old farmers are coming for me.

They give me a whooping. If you hold your hind tight, you don't much feel it. Old Pavel helps me walk back to his hen house. We watch his chicks scrabbling in the dirt. You see them chickens? Yes, sir. A chicken you can cook up before it's born or after it's dead. Useful creature.

Some things can be real useful dead, but everything is useful. Dead folk here are treated nice. The town is careful about making sure that dead is dead. At a funeral, they always tie a thread around one finger of a dead man. If it swells up, he's alive after all. And you put him back in bed instead of in the ground. If they do put a body in the ground, it is a big deal and a good time.

The graveyard is in the center of town and it's so crowded that in order for a body to go in the ground, one's got to come out. We take the one who has been under the longest so there's a good chance the meat's off the bone. The skull we take off and put up in the rafters of the church. If you look up to heaven, that's what you see. Then the bones go in the bone house. Following the drought, we had a summer so wet the seed molded instead of sprouting.

Then that winter the snow was so deep you could step over the power lines, so we lost some cows. The next year was pretty much the same, except worse even, 'cause the silos were empty. Now it's harvest, and already there is food rationing and arguments about it. By now I am almost sixteen. My thoughts are sunk inside me. I am only hands and feet. I might have stayed that way if it weren't for the Rat King. I am done with my chores.

With fewer cows, it doesn't take long. I'm walking back by the tack room. I want you to see it now like I saw it then. These rats had been running about, scrabbling for food, and they got themselves in a tangle. Imagine a pack of rats with their tails in a knot in the center. And they were trying to run, but tied together they couldn't get anywhere. And it didn't take long till they collapsed from the effort. It happens. It does happen.

Often enough that someone can remember that they heard it happened once before they were born. Someone remembered that it's called a rat king. Yes, every rat was dead. The rats had become their own trap. I wanted to tell someone. The kitchen ladies are waiting for the carrots to cool so they can finish cooking for Chicken Tuesday.

They are sitting on the back stoop of the hall, thumbing their callouses. I hold up the rat king and their eyes darken. When I leave with it, they follow me into town. On the way, I hear that sound. I was thinking Una might faint from seeing the rat king. But she wipes her hands. I am walking.

to the center of town with my family behind me and the kitchen ladies behind them and in front of me I have the Rat King. With everyone watching I lay the Rat King down. There wasn't anywhere else to put it.

It belongs at the center of everything, the way a belly button does. The boys and the girls and the ladies and the men and the old farmers draw in around the tangle of rats. No one speaks. You can tell the temperature by how many times a cricket chirps in a minute. It is getting hotter.

You see those rats? You want us to die like that? I pick up the rat cage and I put it on my head. It was time. It was the sign. They had to let me go. I am sure you cannot guess what happened then.

Old Paavo gives the rat king to his barn cats, and it is dawn by morning. I go to M's. I'd like some pie. Out of pie. You can't be. You best be going now. I'll have a coffee. Out of coffee. We'll make some. Eero, there is nothing I can do. That is the fourth time I run away.

The fourth time I would run low and hide myself in the grass. Like a rabbit. Hiding. Or running. Or both. The fourth time they take away my shoes. They beat the bottoms of my feet. If I couldn't walk, how could I run? The fifth time I run barefoot alongside the cows going to night pasture. Through the frozen thistles I run. They find me at dawn.

standing in a fresh cow pie to keep my toes from freezing. That was the fifth time. Now five is a number you can handle. Five you can count on your head. Six is something else. The sixth time they put me here, in the Bone House. The Bone House is a small stone house with a heavy door. It takes three men to push that door open.

Inside all the bones are piled up together. All the bones except the skulls you see, which are up in the rafters of the church, like I said before. They said they would be back by noon. Well, for that long I could sit sideways on a picky fence. With it so dark in here it could have been an hour that's passed or three days. It could have been forty years. It has been a long time since they went away.

I went through being scared, and then bored, and then plain mad. Then curious about being with all the dead folks. I couldn't help feeling friendly with them. Stuck in here, just like me. But not like me. I never heard of this town having one like me. I really thought about that. Nature makes a handful of funny stones. How come I am the only strange one in this town?

Then too I got bored with thinking and wished they would come. I yelled the worst word I knew, and I felt good. Then after that I felt terrible. Which pretty much brings me to now. 'Cause a minute ago, I put my hand on something. Not a bone like all the other bones here. A skull. What do you make of that? Weren't you listening?

I told you, skulls go up in the rafters of the church. Now isn't that curious that one would be in the bone house? If there had been a skull was missing from the rafters of the church, why there would be a story about it. That is something to talk about. And there is no story. What do you make of that? Do you think this skull was accidentally, like, tossed in? Do you think people in this town do things accidentally? Or do you think they never came, did they?

I am the secret of this town. I gotta keep talking. When I say something, there it is. The sentence ends and the next one starts. They don't go around in a circle. One goes after another. I lay these sentences end to end, like laying a road. So when I talk, I am not talking about anything, but towards something. I will talk my way out of here. I will talk through the cracks.

I will talk over the fields and between the barbed wire. I will weave through the prairie grass and talk into the sunrise. I will talk until I get somewhere. Bonehouse was written by Kendra Fanconi. David Baisley played Eero. Nicola Cavendish was Emcina. Frank C. Turner was Perti. Alex Diacon played Pavel and Eric Schneider was Seppel. Mara Coward was Una and Tom Macbeth played the father.

with Christopher Murray and Ryan Beale as the boys. The script editor was Beverly Cooper. Bone House was produced in Vancouver by Heather Brown. The next voices heard in deep night. Which is worse, an uninvited guest who outstays their welcome, or someone, something we invite across the threshold and then refuses to leave?

And even worse, what if Mom finds out the guest from beyond the veil has moved into the bedroom closet? Go away, Brittany! I'm busy plotting my revenge! I only have an hour. It's time to reveal the means by which I will get Kalsakian. The Necronomicon! Literally, a book of dead names. A nasty little grimoire whose sole purpose is the summoning of supernatural forces.

I'm amazed that such an unspeakable tome of evil is available on Amazon.com. 1998 shipping not included. One can only conclude that the World Wide Web is a force for evil.

Back when my father was alive, he used to read me H.P. Lovecraft at bedtime. He was a bit of a sicko, but I remember those stories well. At night, under the covers, shivering in fear at the names of Cthulhu, Yogg-Sothoth, and the many-tentacled Mogloth Caglonitron. Their nightmare pseudopods rose up from the inky pool of my subconscious...

oozing suckers pulling me down, down, down into the murky obsidian depths of crazy evil badness until finally they became real to me. They are real. And with the help of the Necronomicon, they are now mine to command. I wanted my supernatural revenge on Mr. Kalzakian for humiliating me. So it was time to summon up a demon lord to eat his soul.

The thing from beyond my closet takes up residence in the deep night next week. ¶¶

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50 off. So how about a closmopolitan or a mistletoe margarita? I'm thirsty. Watch. I just pop in a capsule, choose my strength and wow. It's beginning to feel more seasonal in here already. If your holiday party doesn't have a bartender, then you become the bartender. Unless you've got a Bartesian because Bartesian crafts every cocktail perfectly in as little as 30 seconds. And I just got it for $50 off. Tis the season to be jollier.

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Later, then you wink. Turn out your lights. Now, we bring you stories of the supernatural and the supernormal, dramatizing the fantasies and the mysteries of the unknown.

We tell you this frankly so that if you wish to avoid the excitement and tension of these imaginative plays, we urge you calmly but sincerely to turn off your radio now. This is Mr. O. R. Jovler.

Do you enjoy going to auctions? Do you get excitement out of opening old boxes, old packages, old trunks that you buy under the auctioneer's hammer? As you lift the end of that old steamer trunk, does your heart beat a little faster as you think? Maybe it'll be full of gold coins or letters from Lincoln or... All right, all right. That's a very human trait, anticipation. So let's anticipate today's play, The Chest, which happens after a short message.

Dr. Campbell Moses, Medical Director of the American Heart Association, talks about a serious health problem in America today. Thousands of Americans die unnecessarily each year from heart attack because they don't know the symptoms and delay getting medical care. What are the symptoms?

They vary, but they often start with a squeezing pain in the center of the chest behind the breastbone. The pain radiating to the shoulder, arm, neck, or jaw. It's often accompanied by sweating and occasionally by nausea, vomiting, and shortness of breath.

If this happens to you, don't delay. Call your doctor and carefully describe your symptoms. If you can't reach your doctor, get to a hospital emergency room as quickly as possible. Remember that frequently the symptoms of heart attack subside completely and then recur. In heart attack, minutes count, so act promptly. Helping you to feel better and live better longer is just one of the services of your heart association, just one of the reasons you should give to your heart fund.

And now, if you haven't already done so, turn off your lights now and listen to The Chest.

All right, gentlemen. All right, gentlemen. Now, here's an opportunity you can't afford to miss. As the Americans say, an opportunity of a lifetime. I assure you that no single piece has more pretentious value than this genuine Oaken traveling truck. As you see, gentlemen, it's bound in brass and locked tight and secure with a massive genuine brass lock. What's in it? Nobody knows.

But the law says that being unclaimed, strange, merchandise, whoever buys it gets it all, as you might say, with all that's in it. Be it gold or silver plate or the jewels of India. Now, what am I offered for this chest? Make your bids and make them good, gentlemen.

Do I hear someone say ten pounds? Five shillings. Now, gentlemen, look at it. Locked tight. And nobody knows what's inside. A fortune waiting here. And somebody talks of five shillings. Now, come, let's on with it. What am I offering? Five and six. Oh, gentlemen, for firewood alone... I offer six.

Six. Six and six. Seven. Well, gentlemen, it appears we're having a competition in little numbers. Is there anybody here who would like to raise a bid in April? Seven and six. Eight. Gentlemen, I ask you, ain't there anybody here which heard what I said about this chest being locked and sealed? Oh, let it go. It's the last thing I've got to auction. So let it go and we'll all go home.

Going to the little gentleman right down the air for eight children even. Do you hear any more? Sold.

Step right up here, sir, and claim your purchase. Now, what might your name be for the record? Name? My name is Mags. Yes, Harold Mags. And the money, Mr. Mags? Oh, yes, sir. My pocketbook got it all ready. Eight shillings, sir. Here you are. Right you are. You understand, of course, the cottage is extra. Oh...

Oh, is it? Right you are. Now, where will I send the chest? I don't know. I mean extra charges. Where will I send it? 92 Applegate Southwest 3. Right you are. Is... Is that all? That's all. The chest is yours. You'll get it in the morning. In the morning? But I'll be at work in the morning. Your old woman will be home, won't she? Oh, yes, but she doesn't know anything about... In the morning, they'll deliver it, and in the morning, you'll get it. Good night to you. Oh, good night, and thank you. Thank you.

Thanked me, huh? If you knew what I know, that trunk, you wouldn't be thanking me. You'd curse me to the devil.

Thank you, Harold. Yes, Agatha. Well, I must say, it's a fine time for a man to be getting home. Mr. Bainbridge asked me to stay and check the inventory. Never mind what Mr. Bainbridge said. Did you get anything extra for doing what Mr. Bainbridge said? Well, I... Never mind what he said. I tell you what you get from me. A cold supper, that's what. Oh, it's all right. Oh, is it? Now, just a minute, Mr. Harold Maggs.

There's something else I want to talk to you about. Yes, Agatha? How much money have you been making on the races? Races? Me? You. Oh, no, you know I never play the horses. Then how much money did that rich uncle of yours in Australia leave you? Australia? Me? Why, Agatha, what are you talking about? I haven't got any uncles in Australia. Oh, then maybe it's a gold mine you discovered.

Or maybe a well that gives a hundred gallon of petrol a minute. Thank you, sir. Are you all right? The chest. Oh. Why did you buy it?

Well, I... They didn't give it to you, did they? It was only eight shillings, and I... Only eight shillings? You mean to stand there and tell me you spent eight whole God-given shillings for that thing? Uh, yes. Harold Meigs, I ought to... Agatha, what's that? Never you mind what that is. Up in the garret. Yes, yes, up in the garret, where that great prize of yours is.

up in the garage where you should be until your head's examined. But, Agatha, what... It's Freddy breaking the thing open to see what's inside. Breaking it open? Yes, and I told him to do it. Freddy, have you opened it yet? Not yet, Mom. Oh, Agatha, please, I don't want him to... No, keep quiet. I know you haven't got a key to it, but

But Raymond told me all about this prize package they did. Oh, but... Plunked it right down in the middle of the kitchen floor. And poor Freddy and I had to carry it all the way upstairs. Oh, but, Agatha... Oh, we'll find out what's in it soon enough. Oh, no, please. He shouldn't break the lock. It's a good one. Maybe I could pick it. I'll go up there. No. No, Harold. Come back here. Let Freddy do what I told him to. Harold! Harold, come back here that minute. Harold, you regret this. Making me climb these stairs. Harold!

Harold, do you hear me? Ma'am. Ma'am. Make him stop. Harold, Harold, what come over you? He won't smash my chest. He won't. Well, Ma'am said I could. She did. She did. She said I could. Oh, dare you strike that boy. Oh, I didn't. Well, you thought about it. He may not be your flesh and blood, Harold Meigs, but he's mine. He's a big lout. 30 years old. Ma'am, he called me a big lout again. Quite enough. Harold Meigs, give me that hammer.

Yes, Agatha. I'll fix your precious chest, your precious lock. That's right, Mom. Show him. Show him. Oh, a good one, Mom. You smashed it. Oh, it was a good padlock. You keep quiet. Buy a cat and a poke, will you? Teach him, Mom. Well, now we'll see your grand bargain. Help me lift the lid, Freddy. Sure thing, Mom. We'll see what you win with my good money. Mom. Mom.

Why? Why, it's empty. Empty? Harrow, Mag, you wretch, you. Taking the bread out of the mouth of your good wife and your son to buy empty trunks. Wait, Agatha. Wait for what? For what? It's not empty. What are you talking about? See? The whole inside crusted with dried blood.

Harold. Harold, wake up. Wake up. Open your eyes. What? It's not morning. No, of course not. Open your eyes. I heard something. Well, what did you hear? Can't you hear anymore? I said there's someone in the house. What do you mean? Listen. I don't hear anything. Don't talk. Listen.

You heard? Yes. Up in the garret. Get up and do something. Well, what could I do? Well, you're not going to let them steal the house away from us. There, again. But why in the garret? Are you going to lie there talking while they... But we've nothing there for anyone to take. No! No!

It's Freddy. Freddy? Come on. No, not up there. When I'm gone... Harold, come back and don't leave me alone to be murdered. Harold, don't go up there. Harold, I'm frightened. Agatha, Agatha, come up here quickly. No, no, I'm afraid. Agatha, quickly. All right, all right. I'm more afraid down here than I'll be up there. Can't be much to be afraid of. If you're not afraid, Harold, it's so dark up here.

Well, Harold, what is it? Peggy, come here. Help me. Well, what is it? What's the matter with you? It's your Freddy. Freddy. Freddy! The lid of the chest seems to be closed on his head. And I can't seem to open it. We leave our The Devil and Mr. O's story of the chest for a message.

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the chest. Agatha, it's no use going on like this. There's nothing we can do for you. I knew you loved the boy. Guess

Guess he's the only thing you ever loved in all your life. Oh, do something. Do something, you worm. What is there to do? Storm so bad, just have to wait until morning, that's all. If you hadn't bought that infernal chest. If I hadn't bought it. Murdered him, you did.

You hated him for the memory of my first husband. Now, I wouldn't say that, Agatha. Why not? You bought the chest, so it's your doing. Well, in a way, you're right. I brought the evil into the house, now didn't I? What are you talking about? An unhappy house, and now there's evil in it. What are you saying? Since we came downstairs, all these hours since it happened, I've been thinking. Thinking what?

How do you think Freddy died? And why? You crazy? Asking me if I know how he died? I saw it, didn't I? But I asked you, why did he die? Why? Why? Because the infernal lid of it fell on his head. That's why. Oh, my Freddy. Yes. The evil did it. Evil, evil. You are crazy.

The only thing evil was your buying it. You just don't understand, do you, Agatha? What are you looking at me like that for? I tell you, the lid fell down on his head. Evil. Evil, evil, evil. Stop trying to make me as crazy as you are. Come on back up there and help me carry my son down... so I can stretch him out decent and respectful... for when the undertaker comes. No, Agatha. What? I've made up my mind. I won't go up there again. Oh, yes, you will.

He lie dead in a bed, my son. Not up there. No, Agatha, I've made up my mind. I figured out that up in the garret the evil has taken... Evil be blasted.

My son. You'll help me carry him down. Don't stand there. Don't stand there. Storm's over. Help me carry down his body so I can lay it out decent. No, Agatha. No, hear me out. It's evil. I'll have you locked away, I tell you. Evil, and I knew somehow that it was there. That's why I dragged you downstairs again so quickly. You never thought much of me, Aggie, but this time, believe me, if I go up there with you, it means my life. I've listened to enough.

A split-headed little worm, that's what you are. There's nothing up there but that blasted chest you bought and Freddy's body. And if you won't help me bring him down, then, curse you, I'll bring him down myself. No, Agatha, come back. Agatha, come back. Agatha, I beg you. Agatha! Agatha! Agatha, you shouldn't have. This once in all these years, you should have listened to me.

If you'd have listened this time, I would have meant something more than... Agatha? Agatha, what's doing up there? Are you all right? Agatha, do you hear me? Are you all right? What in the... Agatha, what? Agatha, what? What happened? What's the matter? Oh, Agatha, heaven help me. I can't come up to you. I'm afraid. I'm afraid.

Agatha? That's another hour. It's hard waiting, Agatha. I've got to keep so quiet. I've got to listen. Perhaps you'll say something. Call me again? I've got to know what happened. Man can go crazy not knowing what happened. I'll keep very quiet. Perhaps I'll hear you saying something up there. Agatha? Agatha?

Wind. I hear nothing but the wind, Agatha. I'm afraid to move out of this chair, Agatha. As afraid as I've ever been in all my life. And that's been many times, Agatha. Something safe about this chair. It's my chair. I've sat in it so many times, it knows me. And while I'm in it, nothing can happen to me. Now, can it? No.

But if I were to get up, leave it, walk toward the door... No, I won't do that. I'll sit here and wait in the chair. And when it's daylight again... Agatha, is that you? I heard you again. Agatha? Agatha? Agatha, why don't you answer me? I hear you moving around. Why don't you answer me? Agatha! Agatha!

Agatha, isn't it you? Sounds as if... as if a heavy chest... were being moved... moved along to the head of the stairs. No. Nothing more. So quiet... Agatha!

Coming down the steps. Coming down. Agatha, is that you? You bringing the chest down? Agatha, is it you? No, no, it couldn't be you, could it, Agatha? No.

And who is bringing it down? Who is it? Answer me! Answer me! I've got to get out of here. Run. But I can't. I can't. Too afraid. Who is it? Agatha, it is you, isn't it? It must be you. It must be... Agatha.

Not many more steps, then I'll see you. No, no, I won't look. I won't. Stop, you, whoever you are. Don't bring that chest down here. Stop. Stop. Stop. No further. Stop. I won't have to see. I won't have to see. Again. Again.

Oh, no. So close, bottom of the stairs. I'll see. I'll see. I'll see. What? Oh, if I could close my eyes. Only one more step. I know it. I know it. No. No. How could it be? No one. Just the chest. No one with it.

How can that be? No one. How could a trunk come down the stairs one at a time alone? Daylight. Why doesn't daylight come? There's something buzzing in my head.

Oh, my head. Why do I sit here staring at that thing of evil? I've got to know. Yes, I have got to know. Get up. Close to it. Just a chest. Why should I be afraid of it? Just a chest.

Put my hand on it. Moved. Moved under my hand. Thing of evil. I'll get you. You won't get me. I'll get you. My axe. Where's my axe? Closet. Was in here. Yes. Got to find my axe. Won't get me, you blasted chest. You got it. You hear me, you evil? Axe in my hand. I'm coming for you. You came after me, but I'll get you.

I see you there at the foot of the steps, you chest, you. Lying there so quiet, aren't you? Think I'll open you and then you'll get me too? Well, you won't. You won't. I'm coming for you, see? I'm creeping close to you, slowly, slowly. The way you crept down the stairs for me.

How do you like it, you evil, waiting for your doom? I'll get close to you. I'll swing my axe and then your evil will be over, won't it? You'll be wood, wood and twisted bands of brass and then I won't have to be afraid anymore, now will I? Now! I'm close enough! Your doom, Chess! I'm your doom! Here!

I did it. I did it. You evil chest. You cracked your wide open. I'll pull the rest of you wide apart. And then... Agatha! You were in it! My ass is in your skull! Howdy.

Oh, Harry. Yes, Mr. Jemison? Harry, that chest you delivered over Applegate Way, where's the sign receipt for it? Oh, there it is. It's lying right here.

Received one chest. What are you laughing at, Mr. James? I'm just thinking. Thinking of what, might I ask you, sir? Thinking and wondering if they found out. What's that, sir? That the chest was the one in which that murderer, the young last Wednesday, used to stuff his murdered victims. Cool. I wonder if that little man that bought it

What was his name? Uh, Mags. Found out about his bargain yet? Oh!

This is Mr. O. Archobler. I can just hear somebody in DeJoliet or is it Dubuque saying, hey, wait a minute, Mr. O. You mean to say that old chest actually killed someone? Now listen, friend. The supernormal and coincidence, who can separate the two? I'll tell you something that really happened to me, a very strange happening, after this pause for station business. See? See the leaf? Right here in my hand. Oh, yes. Isn't that a new leaf?

Yes, it is a new leaf. Here, I'm going to turn over a new leaf. Get it? Leaf? New? What does that mean, to turn over a new leaf? Well, in serious? Mm-hmm. Means that you're going to have a little change. From what to what?

from bad to good. Oh, really? Yeah. Well, suppose somebody was crying. They could switch from tears to a smile. Suppose they were lonely. They could go from loneliness to having somebody to play with. Well, suppose somebody wasn't loved. Could they turn over a new leaf? They

They could go from not loving somebody to loving somebody. How do they do that? All they have to do is try to love somebody. Just try? Yeah. It's easy to love people when you try. Love makes all things new again. Hey, what was that? Another sound of love from the Franciscans.

This is Mr. O again. Yes, about that thin line between coincidence and the supernormal. A number of years ago, late at night, I sat down at my typewriter to write a story. I sat and I sat, but no ideas. Then, just as the clock struck 12, the idea came. Quickly, I began to type. The idea was that I was going to write a story

The story, a criminal in a hotel room hiding from the police. He climbs out the window and hangs from a narrow ledge high above the street. Well, I got that far with the plot and then suddenly tired, I went to bed. The next morning, the

The headline of the paper told of a criminal who had hidden in a hotel room and then when the police broke in exactly at midnight had tried to escape by hanging from his fingers from the narrow ledge outside the room. In other words, as I was writing that story at the very moment it was actually happening.

Coincidence? Supernormal? Who knows? Now, that brings us to our next play on the series. Its title is Paris Macabre, and it concerns itself with two undergraduates on a summer tour of Europe who decide to see, you know, the real Paris. They crash a dance and discover that, well, as usual, you're going to have to wait for the rest of that until next week. It Later Than

Thanks for listening! If you like what you heard, be sure to subscribe so you don't miss future episodes. If you like the show, please, share it with someone you know who loves old-time radio or the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters, or unsolved mysteries like you do.

You can email me and follow me on social media through the Weird Darkness website. WeirdDarkness.com is also where you can listen to free audiobooks I've narrated, get the email newsletter, visit the store for creepy and cool Weird Darkness merchandise. You can find other podcasts that I host. Plus, it's where you can find the Hope in the Darkness page if you or someone you know is struggling with depression, addiction, or thoughts of harming yourself or others. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com.

I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me for this episode of Weird Darkness' Retro Radio.

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