Ted Mallard was arrested at customs for smuggling cocaine, which was found in a secret compartment of his attaché case.
Myra believes Ted is being framed because he travels regularly between New York and London for legitimate business, making him an ideal courier for smugglers who could have planted the cocaine.
Bail was denied due to the quantity of cocaine found and the authorities' belief that Ted is a key player in a narcotics ring, posing a flight risk or a danger to himself if released.
Denson took Myra to Saunders' apartment to show her evidence of Ted's alleged double life, including his picture and clothing, aiming to break down Myra's denial and convince her to cooperate with the investigation.
Bert lies because he is involved in Ted's smuggling operation. He used Ted to install the stereo as a cover for Ted's visits to Jenny Saunders' apartment.
Bert framed Ted to take control of their company's funds while Ted was in jail, allowing him to pay off a $50,000 gambling debt to loan sharks.
Mr. Sleuth, also known as the Avenger, turned the pictures of pretty girls to the wall because he considered them wicked and sinful, believing everything wicked and sinful should be purged from the earth.
Mr. Sleuth believed he was purging the souls of his victims, saving them from sin and evil, particularly those associated with music and dancing.
He viewed music as an instrument of sin and a temptation of the devil.
No Dice accidentally ingested a poisoned sleeping pill meant for Vanny Devine.
If June died, May would no longer receive the 15 pounds weekly payment for her care, and Begley likely suspected that he would inherit more money if Smith was out of the picture.
Theda killed Gomez to eliminate the only witness who could connect her to Joe Nelson and the murder of Rusty Dean.
Theda sabotaged the window washer's safety hooks to eliminate him as a potential witness who might have seen her leaving the apartment where she had just committed a murder.
Mr. Fentel's belief stemmed from a series of coincidences where people and insects died shortly after he wished them dead, fueled by his loneliness, job loss, and desire for a sense of power.
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Celebrate with full plates and full hearts. Only at Raley's in Nob Hill. Ads heard during the podcast that are not in my voice are placed by third-party agencies outside of my control and should not imply an endorsement by Weird Darkness or myself. The Black Museum. Affiliated stations present Escape. Dinner Sanctum. My mercy.
Present... 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. If you're new here, welcome to the show! While you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, sign up for my free newsletter, connect with me on social media, listen to free audiobooks I've narrated, visit other podcasts I produce – you
You can also visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you're struggling with depression, dark thoughts or addiction. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com. 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, chamberlain in this court of the mysterious and the macabre. The act of trust seems to get short shrift from the poets, the philosophers, and even the prophets.
An early American sage warns us to trust everybody, but cut the cards. The book tells us, put not your trust in princes. Very well and very good, but you have to trust somebody. Can anyone go all the way through this life without trusting another human being? What is it you want me to do? Show me how to use this. What?
That's a revolver. Exactly. Where did you get it? I don't think that's important. I don't think I should help you. Well, if you don't, I'll probably kill myself trying to figure it out. But you don't need a revolver. I feel safer with it in the house. Ted is away so much. Well, you flick out the cylinder. And you insert the shells into these chambers.
I see. And now you flick back the cylinder, and I hope you never have to use it. But the gun is ready to fire. You just point it and pull the trigger. Like so? Like so. But not at me. Why not at you? Myra. I intend to kill you. Myra.
Our mystery drama, Can You Trust Your Husband?, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Sam Dan and stars Joan Lovejoy and Mandel Kramer. 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. ♪♪
Somehow, love seems to have become the province of the young. Ask almost anyone to name two people who were deeply in love, and the answer almost automatically is Romeo and Juliet. Well, let's face it. Romeo and Juliet were a couple of teenagers who only knew each other for a brief interval. They conveniently died before they would have to weather the storms of marriage and responsibility.
The lovers of record should be Philemon and Baucis or Darby and Joan. Couples who lived with each other and put up with each other for 50 and 60 years. That, dear friends, is love. All this is by way of introduction to the Mallards. Ted and Myra, married 25 years. And as far as we know, there's never been an argument or even a harsh word. It's all been one long, beautiful honeymoon. As far as we know.
Let our story begin late one autumn evening as the doorbell rings in their comfortable, well-appointed apartment. Just a minute. You'll have to wait, Ted. Next time, carry your keys. Oh, Bert. Did I wake you, Myra? No, no. I never can sleep while Ted's awake. Come on in. Thanks. Ted isn't home yet. I guess his plane was late. Well, yes, it was. Oh, I knew it. But...
But what? Well, I... Well? I... Something's wrong. Well... Bert, what are you trying to tell me? Well, whatever it is, I guess I'm not doing a very good job of it. It's Ted. Yes, it's about Ted. Something's happened to him. The plane... Oh, now, Myra, just a minute. I've been listening to the radio all night. I haven't heard anything about a plane. No, it isn't the plane. Then what is it? The plane landed more than three hours ago. Bert, tell me what's happened to Ted. Well, I'm trying to. It's not easy. Do you know where he is? He's in jail. Jail? Jail?
Why? What for? I said it's not easy. I'm not sure. He was arrested as he came through customs. Tell me why. Well, I suppose for smuggling. Smuggling? That's impossible. It has to be a mistake. Oh, I'm sure of it. We have to get hold of Arthur Kremen. I already did. Doesn't he practice that kind of law? He'll get someone else if he can't handle it.
Handle what? All I know is Ted called me and they allowed them one phone call. Please, Bert, get to it. Well, he said, Bert, I'm being accused of smuggling. Call Arthur and then tell Myra. But what is he accused of smuggling? Heroin or cocaine. I'm not sure. But that's ridiculous. How could Ted possibly be involved in anything like that? They found it in his attache case. But it's all a mistake. A terrible mistake.
Or else it's a joke. A very bad joke. Myra, I didn't want you to come here. Why not? Because it's a prison cell. Are you all right? I don't know. I'm in prison, Myra. Well, it's not exactly prison. You're just being held here because of some awful misunderstanding. Oh, darling, it's prison.
People like me, like us, we only read about these things. But Artie says he'll go before a judge in the morning and see about setting bail. That's another word. Bail. Do you realize I'm going to be out on bail as if I were some common criminal? Darling, Ted, tell me what happened. I simply couldn't get a word out of Bert. What happened? How many times have I done this? I got off the plane, picked up my luggage, walked through customs, except... Except? Except this time I didn't walk through. This time...
When they searched my attaché case, they found a packet, they say, of first-grade cocaine. Well, then it couldn't have been your attaché case. But it was. How did the cocaine get there? I don't know. Couldn't you have seen it? No. Why not? Because it was concealed in a secret compartment. Secret compartment? I don't know, darling. I didn't know I had one. But surely... Surely what? Surely nothing, darling.
I know how upset you are. You don't need me giving you a third degree. They were waiting for me, Myra. Waiting? Yes. Ordinarily, customs is just a routine. This time, there were three or four of them out there. They emptied the papers out of my case. One of them had some kind of a screwdriver, and he... You mean that they actually expected to find something? Yes. And then there was this cellophane, or I think they call it glassine, a packet just filled with powder. Oh.
Well, it's a mistake. Well, of course. Obviously, it couldn't have been your attaché case. You see, that's the answer. Myra, I told you it was. Ted, you're being framed. That's the only thing that makes any sense. But why? Because I travel regularly between New York and London on legitimate business. I'd make an ideal courier. Somebody's been using you. People, a gang that's involved in smuggling that they watch for regular travelers. I know it sounds crazy, but...
They managed to get hold of your bag somehow. I don't know what's going to happen now, Myra. Well, I know what's going to happen. Tomorrow, the mistake or whatever it is will be straightened out. I don't know if it ever can be straightened out completely. Ted, what are you saying? You're innocent. Am I innocent? You know it and I know it, but what about the rest of the world? Don't forget this will be in all the papers. But it's so obviously a frame-up. To whom? Myra, there are people who actually believe that if a person isn't guilty, he'd never have been arrested in the first place.
Ted, that's crazy. Of course it is, but that's what's out there. But everyone knows that you're an honest, hardworking, ethical man. In the minds of so many people, there will be a nagging, little nasty suspicion. Could you really have been involved? Well, this is going to be a good way of finding out who your friends really are. Suddenly I feel as if I'm part of another world, Myra. A world you and I never knew. It's no longer our logical, well-ordered universe. All of a sudden, I'm a criminal. Darling, you're not. I'm in a cage, deprived of my freedom.
Look at them, the rest of them as you leave here. The thugs, the hoodlums, the thieves. I'm one of them. Ted. Look at them as you leave because I can't leave. I have to stay. Darling, not for long. Myra, you've got to get me out. The shame of this. The disgrace. I can't stand it. Hello? Myra. Bert, where are you? Courthouse. Was Arthur able to get bail set? Oh, that's what I'm
you. Bert, please, just tell me. There's a problem, Myra, and Arthur's going to be tied up with it, so he asked me to call you. Bert, will you please tell me? Well, it looks like Arthur can't get bail. What do you mean he can't get bail? Well, it's the law. A person is entitled to bail. He is, and he isn't. Well, I'm going right down there. Myra, it won't do you any good. You see,
because of the size of the package and the fact that they've had their eye on Ted for a long time... Now, you just stop there. You stop right there. Please, Myra. I'm only reporting the facts. The federal prosecutor moved for suspension of bail. But that's not legal. Well, in some cases. Well, there has to be someone I can talk to. They claim Ted is so important to this narcotics ring... What narcotics ring? ...that he would simply jump bail and leave the country.
Bert, do you know what you're saying? Or else his life would be in danger. So what this amounts to is protective custody. And Arthur, our fine attorney Arthur, to whom we pay a fortune every year as a retainer, is just standing there and taking it. Now, Myra, you must be fair to Arthur. Be fair to Arthur? Arthur's fighting it. He's filing an appeal. He's going to a higher court, but it has to take...
Time? A couple of days. A week. Bert, I have to hang up now. Now, you just relax, Myra. Everyone's doing their absolute best. I'll talk to you soon. Okay, goodbye. All right. Yes? Mrs. Mellor? Who are you? I'm Lieutenant Jack Denson of the Narcotics Squad. We're cooperating with the federal authorities. And? Here are my credentials. I see them. May I come in?
Why? To discuss your husband's case. My husband doesn't have a case. He's a victim of a frame-up, of some sort of ghastly mistake. There's nothing you can gain from talking to me. I'm here to help you, Mrs. Mallard. Help you and your husband. Help us in what way? Well, I'd rather not discuss that in the hallway of your apartment building.
Very well, come in. The only way you can help us is to clear up this terrible mistake and get Ted out of that jail. What makes you think it's a mistake? What makes me... My husband is innocent. What makes you think so? I'm going to have to ask you to leave this house. First, answer my question. What makes you think your husband is innocent?
Fact that you love him? Of course I love him. Has that become a crime? Your entire attitude toward your husband is based on the fact that you love him. And love happens to be blind. Please, spare me your dime-store philosophy. You don't live with a man for 25 years without getting to know him. Ours was no ordinary marriage, or maybe it was. Maybe all marriages are the same. I wouldn't know. But we were together in everything. We had no secrets. I don't believe we even had separate thoughts.
We lived with and for each other. So he couldn't have been doing anything wrong. Because I would have known it. How would you have known it? Evidently, you're not married. Or if you are, it's not what I would call a marriage. I would know. He wouldn't have to say a word or leave a clue. But I would know if he were doing anything wrong. So what do you say to that? I wish I knew what to say, Mrs. Mallard.
I wish I knew how to say what I have to say. Then please, stop beating around the bush. You're a fine woman, Mrs. Mallard. I'm in no mood for flattery, Lieutenant. Say what you have to say and get out. I'm sorry I'm forced to tell you this, but your husband, whom you love and with whom you're so close, has been leading a double life. I... I don't believe that. It... it can't be true. I'm sorry, Mrs. Mallard.
We have proof. There are parts of the world where it never rains. The bright golden sun shines in a deep blue sky. And all is beautiful and cheerful and gay. And after a while, you accept it as something that will last forever. But as the song says, into each life some rain must fall. And when it does, those who have never known what it is to be drenched...
usually suffer the most. I shall return shortly with Act Two. For 25 years, Myra and Ted Mallard have had a wonderful marriage. Myra and Ted could communicate without speaking, read each other's thoughts, share each other's feelings.
Well, possibly this hasn't been completely so. For here is Myra being confronted with the charge that Ted has been living a complete life away from her. A life that is of interest to the police. I challenge you to present your proof, Lieutenant. We've been watching Ted for a long time.
He makes regular trips? He makes regular trips to London on legitimate business. Of course. Ted had an opportunity to open a branch office in London. And he goes there to supervise. And it's an excellent cover.
His presence is necessary. According to the annual report of your husband's company, that London operation is losing money. Ted has faith in it. But you can't excuse our being skeptical. And what right do you have to arrest a man on skepticism? None at all. But it goes deeper. I'm not interested. I can see the nature of your so-called proof. I want you to help your husband. Why should you care? By helping him, you help us...
Mrs. Mallard, he won't talk. What does he have to talk about? Everything. Who his associates are, where they buy the drugs, where and whom they sell, who is protecting them. But... Please, let me finish. You must convince him to talk. If he remains silent, he'll spend the rest of his life in jail. But he hasn't done anything. Please, Mrs. Mallard, we're beyond all that.
Now, you must convince him to cooperate. That way, he can get a substantial reduction in his sentence. Sentence? He'll be tried and he'll be sentenced. We have proof. You keep saying you have proof. And all you've got is the packet you found in his attaché case, and that could have been planted there. It could have been, but it wasn't. Well, I won't be intimidated. If we have to fight, we'll fight. Ted is 47 years old. He has a spotless reputation. He's never done anything wrong.
The jury will simply refuse to believe that he could be a member of a dope ring. Did you ever hear of a woman named Jenny Saunders? Jenny Saunders? I don't believe so. I'll do some things that are not exactly in the book. If you promise to say nothing, I'll take you to her apartment. Why would I want to go there? Because the two of you have something in common. The End
How does it happen that you have a key to this woman's apartment? Well, you see, she's cooperating with us. And when I said I might want to bring you here, she felt it best not to be present. Why? Out of respect, I suppose, for your feelings. What do you think of the place? Well, it's nice enough, but why do you... Wait a minute. That's Ted's picture. Ted's picture?
Yep. That's Ted's picture. What's Ted's picture doing here? You'll find some of Ted's clothing in the closet also. Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no what? You won't get away with this. I'm not going to let you get away with this.
I see what this is for. It's a frame-up to build your case. You're planting his things in this apartment. You're making serious charges, Mrs. Mallard, and I can understand how you feel. But Ted was here. He spent time here. I defy you to prove that. We have witnesses. People have seen him here. Well, they can. They can all be part of this plot. Which plot? Mrs. Mallard, why should we want to frame your husband? I don't know.
To make an arrest to create an impression you're cracking down on drugs? Why pick on Ted Mallard? Why construct this elaborate framework? I won't believe it. That means you refuse to believe it. Mrs. Mallard, let's accept your argument for a moment. The drugs could have been planted in the attache case. Then you admit... For the sake of argument. Okay. Then we could have gone to the trouble of setting up the apartment, the witness, the girl. But you tell me one thing...
How do you explain your husband's fingerprints? What fingerprints? His fingerprints are all over the place. I know it's very hard for you, Mrs. Mallard. I suppose you have to look at your whole life now from another perspective. And maybe, faced with all this, you won't even want to help him. Please, let me out of here. No!
Ira, where were you? I thought you'd be here earlier. Arthur hasn't been able to do a thing. Now, should we get another lawyer? I can't believe a thing like this could happen. Ted, tell me about Jenny Saunders. Who? Jenny Saunders. Jenny... What about... What about Jenny Saunders? That's what I'm asking you. I don't know any Jenny Saunders. You don't? No, of course not. Look, darling, we've got a million and one important things to worry about. You don't know a Jenny Saunders?
Myra, is somebody named Jenny Saunders somehow involved in everything that's happening? There's an apartment at 291 Fenimore Place. So, what about it? I was hoping you'd tell me what about it. Myra, what's wrong? Don't say nothing, because I can tell when something's bothering you. I didn't say nothing was wrong. Tell me about 291 Fenimore Place. I never heard of it. The police say they found your fingerprints all over it. My... Oh, well, I guess they would.
Then you do know about 291 Fenimore. I wasn't thinking, darling. I have been there. Let me see. Often? Well, twice. Twice. To install and then... Oh, let's see. Was it three times? Anyway, I installed and then went back for some repairs, I guess. And I guess the police were checking every place that I ever visited. Well, why would you have been to 291 Fenimore? As a favor to Bert. Bert? Yes, he's got a friend.
Jenny Saunders? I don't... Maybe that's her name. I never saw her. I never saw anyone in the apartment. Well, why did you go there in the first place? I'm telling you, darling. Bert asked me to install one of our special stereos for this good friend of his. You? Don't you have servicemen and technicians who do that kind of thing? There were some new things, and Bert said that it would be a big favor. And that's the only reason you ever went to 291 Fenimore Place? Well, of course. What other reason would I have? Oh!
Oh, hello, Mrs. Mallard. Hello, Harriet. Is... is Bert Hollis in? Oh, yeah, he sure is, but he's on the phone. That's all right. I'll wait. Um, I... I don't believe it about Mr. Mallard. I mean, what... he's just about the straightest guy there is. Harriet, tell me something. Does the name Jenny Saunders mean anything to you? Uh, uh, say it again, Mrs. Mallard. Jenny Saunders. Does it mean anything? Um, yeah. What? Well...
I don't know. I mean... Oh, gosh. Well, who is it? Look, does this ever happen to you? You know you've heard something somewhere, but you can't for the life of you remember when or where. Now, this name, Jenny Saunders... Yes? I did hear it. Apropos of what? Apropos of... Oh, please, Harriet, try to recall. No, no, no, it doesn't do me any good to try. It's very important. Look, I mean, it's all just sloshing around somewhere in my subconscious, and...
It'll come to the surface when it wants to. Well, you will let me know, won't you, if you should happen to remember? Oh, sure. Oh, Mr. Hollis's light is out now, so he's off the phone. Why don't you just go in? Thank you. Bert. Myra. Come in. Come in. Sit down. Thank you. Is there something new? I know Arthur's still waiting for the court of appeal. Bert, who is Jenny Saunders?
I never heard of her. Now, look, I know how long you and Ted have been friends. And, of course, your instinct is to protect him. But, Bert, oh, Bert, I have to know. What do you have to know? If my husband has been having an affair with a woman named Jenny Saunders. Ted? An affair? Oh, no, never. It's impossible. Bert, I looked in the mirror today. And I see that it could be possible.
Myra, I know Ted, and I say never. Please listen to me. Please. When I think of Ted and me and our marriage, I believe I'm still 20 and he's still 22. But I'm not, and he's not, and I have wrinkles everywhere.
and a girl named Jenny Saunders is probably quite young. And you're being quite silly. Ted would never... Are you familiar with an apartment at 291 Fenimore Place? 291 Fenimore... No, no, no. Should I be? Yes, if you have a friend who lives there. No, I don't know anyone who'd... Well, since you have never heard of the place, and you don't know anyone who lives there...
Then you couldn't possibly have asked Ted to personally install a special super stereo. Ask Ted to what? You heard what I said. Well, I heard it, but I can't believe it. Why would I ask Ted? I see. Myra, Myra, please. Why did you ask me such a question? What are you driving at? What's happened? I'm not sure. When Ted was arrested at the airport the other night, I thought that was the end of the world.
Now I see that that may have just been the calm before the storm. Yes? You're Jenny Saunders. Okay. Where do we go from here? I'm Myra Mallard. Well, come on in. Sit down. Thank you. Drink? I don't believe so. Well, what are we going to talk about? Is it true? It's true.
I didn't think you'd be his type. When they start to hit 50, what's a type? Although you are quite pretty. If it makes you feel any better, he's still in love with you. Really? Then what was he doing here? I guess these fellows need excitement. He's in a jam, I hear. Yes. I will say he was fast with a dollar. He was good to me. The rent here goes for almost 300. And then he liked to go to the track.
I never knew he had the slightest interest in... Oh, and he liked to game a card. I told him the stakes were a little high. I never knew he could even play cards. Well, I... I tried to steer him clear of it. Thank you. But men, they do what they want to do. And so, the way I see it, he got in very deep to the loan sharks. And it's all tied into the rackets, you understand? So they said, look, here's how you can pay us back. And so...
He became a courier. You see it happen all the time. Legit business guys get themselves in hock and the mob moves in. What are you looking for? You wouldn't happen to have a specially installed stereo, would you? Oh, no. I wish I did. Thank you, Miss Saunders. Yeah. I'm glad you're friendly, Mrs. Mallard. A lot of wives, they'd throw a fit. Isn't it better to act civilized? Yes.
Myra, what are you saying to me? What are you saying to me, Ted? I'm saying that I don't know a girl named Jenny Saunders. She lives at 291 Fenimore Place. You admit you went there. As a favor to Bert. Bert knows nothing about it. What do you mean he knows nothing about it? He asked me to. He didn't. He specifically asked... Myra, Bert came into my office a couple of months ago and asked me to do him this favor. But he didn't. Well, ask him. I did ask him. He knows nothing about it. And furthermore...
I just had a visit with Jenny Saunders. Myra. I can see where she might be very exciting. Myra, listen to me. No, you listen to me. Call Lieutenant Denson. What for? So you can make a deal and be out of here in a few years or maybe even months. Would you mind telling me what you're talking about? I'm talking about a man who fell in love with a woman half his age. Myra. All right. Let's say he became infatuated. And so he went through all of his money...
and was offered a way out, an illegal way out, and he was caught. Myra, do you believe this? Yes, Ted, I believe it. I don't see how it's possible not to believe it. ♪
How is it possible, indeed, not to believe it? How can one doubt the evidence? Evidence based on the reasonable, logical, and sensible interpretation of the facts that exist. Certainly, a man must be proven guilty beyond the shadow of a doubt. Is there even a shadow here? Everything seems so clear-cut. I'll be back shortly with Act Three. Act Three
Sometimes, if you repeat a story often enough, you'll come to believe it. For instance, for 25 years, Myra Mallard has been telling herself that she has the perfect marriage. A union that was made in heaven, as they say. And perhaps she has been so taken by the idea that she refuses to accept reality. And reality seems to be another woman.
And a prison cell. And a narcotics-carrying charge. You're telling me I've been having an affair with another woman? I have met her. And I've been maintaining her? Yes. And the drain on my finances has driven me into becoming a member of a narcotics ring? Ted, these are facts.
Well, I deny every one of them. But your fingerprints are all over that apartment. And I told you how they got there. Oh, Ted. I also told you something else. I told you this would never be straightened out. But... That the very fact I've been arrested would scar me for the rest of my life. Ted, I... That there'll always be a nagging doubt in people's minds. Well, what can I expect from strangers when my own wife believes I'm guilty? Ted, I don't know what to believe. I'd know what to believe if you were the one who was sitting in jail. Well...
I'd believe what you told me. I'm trying to. All the evidence. I wouldn't care for evidence. I'd know that the person I loved would tell me the truth. I don't think we have the kind of marriage that we thought we did, or at least that I thought I did. Ted, what do you want me to do? What do I want you to do if you have to ask? I'm all mixed up. We had a paradise, you and I, Mara. But at the first storm, look what happens to it. Darling. The other night you said to me this would be a good way to find out who my friends are. Well, it's better than that.
That's a good way for me to find out who my wife is. Well, Mrs. Mallard, have you thought it over? Yes, Lieutenant Denson, I have. And have you decided to help your husband? Yes. I'm going to do everything I can. Fine. Then I can expect you to cooperate with us. Oh, I will. That is, if you agree to cooperate with me. Certainly. What would you like me to do? Find the man who's really guilty. Mrs. Mallard...
Is it possible we are back to ground zero on this thing? We never left it. Ted is innocent. In the face of all the evidence, can you really believe that? Yes, I believe he is innocent. And I believe it because he says so. Ted Mallard cannot lie to me any more than I can lie to him. Mrs. Mallard, I would like you... I know what you'd like. You'd like me to look at the facts. But there are all kinds of facts, Lieutenant. Lieutenant.
You have yours and I have mine. And what are yours? Mine is the fact that Ted and I are in love. Yes, for a moment I panicked. I was frightened. Mrs. Mallard... It's no good, Lieutenant. I have 25 years supporting me. I know this is a blow to your pride. Let me tell you whom you should investigate. My husband's partner, Bert Hollis. Please, Mrs. Mallard... Bert is lying.
He said he didn't ask Ted to install the stereo set at 291 Fenimore. Mrs. Mallard, you can't shift the blame conveniently. Why is Bert lying? That's the crux of the entire case. Bert was not caught with the narcotics. Bert was not maintaining a girl in that apartment. Please, Lieutenant, don't give me facts. Your facts. For once, try something else. Something else? Faith. Believe somebody. Take a person's word.
You once said I was a very fine woman. All right. Would I lie? Isn't it possible that I'm telling the truth? I know you have a case. It's well constructed. But it's wrong. Mrs. Mallard, we know Ted is guilty. And I know Bert is lying. And I'm asking you to find out why. We have no reason to pursue that line of investigation. Perhaps you don't, but I do. And I'm going to pursue it. How? I don't know.
What do I know about these kinds of things? But somebody has to help Ted. Must be wonderful to have a wife who simply won't face the facts. Oh, you're wrong, Lieutenant. I'm facing all the facts. No!
Why would Bert lie? I don't know. Think. I told you, I don't know. Have you had any differences of opinion about the business? No. Is he in debt? Not that I know of. Can you think of anything, anything, any reason why he would do this to you? Bert and I have been friends since college. All right, the attaché case. How could the cocaine have gotten in there? That's beyond me. Oh, Ted, you're not being very helpful. Well, did I ever think I'd be framed? It's Bert. It has to be Bert. But why? I don't know. I'd have been willing to bet my life on Bert.
Just as I'd be willing to bet my life on you. Hi, Mrs. Mallard. Hello, Harriet. Anything new with Mr. Mallard? We're hoping. Yeah. I've just come by to get some of Ted's things.
Oh, that's Mr. Hollis' ring. He wants to give me some dictation. Look, if you'll be in Mr. Mallard's office for a few minutes, would you mind answering the phone? No, not at all. It's just that when Mr. Hollis dictates, he gets all confused if I have to stop and pick up the phone. Well, I'll be here for a while. Oh, thanks. Yes? That's right there.
Uh, no. Well, he's supposed to be there. He knows I'd be calling. Well, he just stepped out for a moment. Tell him Smitty wants him. Oh, yes. Well, I've heard Bert mention your name. Bert and I are... Well, we're very close. You are? What about the Saunders' name? Oh, that. That's all over. Look, it's a lot of dough. And it's due. How and where to bring it. Oh, no.
Myra! Harriet said you were here. Oh, I, uh, I just wanted to get some of Ted's things. Why? He'll be out of jail soon. I feel it in my bones. Do you? I know Ted. He couldn't do anything wrong. You're a good friend to him. I don't care what anyone says. I'll stick by him.
Oh, thanks for covering the phone. I heard it ring. Oh, it was a wrong number. Oh, well, I hope everything will be okay with Mr. Mallard. Thank you, Harriet. If you're through in Mr. Mallard's office, maybe I'd better lock it. Why? Does Mr. Mallard usually keep it locked? Oh, no. That's his problem. He leaves everything lying around. Anybody could walk into his office and walk off with anything.
Even... even his attaché case? Oh, sure. Although, why would anyone want to take his attaché case? Well, did you ever see anyone carrying his case? Did I? Well, I never thought to watch. Try to think.
Now that you mention it, it's funny. Now, when he left for London last week, I saw Mr. Hollis bring him the case. And Mr. Hollis said, hey, Ted, you left this in my office. Uh-huh. That's what Mr. Hollis said. What did Mr. Mallard answer? I think he said, thanks, Bert. And that was all? Yeah. Oh, do you remember you asked me did I know a Jenny Saunders? Yes. So that's where I heard her name.
As they were saying goodbye, Mr. Hollis said, um, let me see, uh, did you get everything squared away for my friend Jenny Saunders? And Mr. Mallard answered, uh, uh, the stereo works just fine. There you are. You really forget nothing if you know how to make it come.
Hello, Bud. I'm on time. You got it? Yeah. Hand it over. Ain't no 50 grand here. I know. Look, the agreement was 10 payments, 50 grand each. 50 is too big a sum to hide. Agreement, pal. I can fix the books for 25 maybe each month, but not for 50. Who cares about the books? I don't care.
That's why we got Mallard out of the way. So you could have an open road. His wife was there today. Why? I don't know why. Maybe she suspects something. Why should she suspect anything? I don't know. I said maybe. Look, you're the one who said all you needed was to get Mallard out of here and the till would be wide open. Okay, but you have to be cautious. Cautious?
The way you drop money on the ponies, the cards, the dames? Look, look, it'll just take a little bit longer, but I'll pay you fellas back. What's that? I don't know. Nobody's supposed to be here. Well, maybe it's Jenny. How could it be Jenny? I heard you two have quits. Quits? Where did you hear that? Your secretary told me. She doesn't know anything about Jenny. Wait a minute. Hey, wait a minute.
What are you going to do with that gun? Somebody's in that closet. What are you trying to do, Bert? Set me up? No, no, I don't... All right, whoever you are, come on out of there. Myra. You notice, Dan? It's Ted's wife. Hello, Bert. Who is your friend? Myra. I couldn't help myself. So you did frame Ted, after all. Please, Myra, you don't understand. It was Jenny...
Jenny Saunders. I couldn't keep away from her. All right, we can't hang around here. What are you going to do with her? I don't know, but something will occur to me. Move, sister. Why? What are you going to do to her?
She has to disappear. You let her alone. Murder was no part of the deal. Look, Bert, people do what they have to do. I said no! Please, please, Myra. Myra, if you promise not to... What can she promise? Myra, promise you... Ah, poor Bert. This character makes you betray your friend, loot your company, and now he'll kill you.
Shut up, lady. Well, how else can it end? I think we'd better go for a little ride. No, no, I won't let you do it. Let go of my arm, you nut. I said let go of my arm. You okay, Mr. Hollis? Me? Yes.
Yes, I am. Lieutenant. Harry, Joe, get an ambulance. We may be able to save this other one's life. Lieutenant. What am I doing here? Well, you can say whatever you like about science and facts and clues and evidence, but sometimes a good hunch has them all beat. You heard what they said? Yeah, everything. I followed you because if you did happen to be right, you'd need help. I didn't mean to.
I just... Well, I just kept getting in deeper and deeper. Thank you, Lieutenant. No, thank you for showing me what it can be like. What can be like? Marriage. I may even try it myself. And he did. Or so we are told. Well, what is the moral here? You may be sure that faith can overcome any difficulty...
And as the Persian poet said, the sweet breath of love can blow away the mightiest mountains. So, you have faith, for I shall return in just a few moments. Love, like wine, they say, grows mellower, finer, tastier as time goes on.
Just as youth is wasted on the young, so is love. The heart has its reasons, and the more we attempt to probe and pry and weigh and analyze, the more we come to naught. Love is one of the two supreme passions. The other, of course, is murder, which is why we always try to give you liberal amounts of each seven times each week.
Our cast included Joan Lovejoy, Mandel Kramer, Bryna Rayburn, Ken Harvey, and Sam Gray. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. And now, a preview of our next tale. Take me seriously for once.
When we were little, even then, she did vicious things. She broke the heads off all my dolls. She took the goldfish out of the bowl and she watched them die. Typical healthy Tom boy. I don't want to discuss it anymore. Now get me out of here, please. All right, Anita. Sure, that's how you want it. Doctor, I'm ready to go now. All right, now tell him, Max. Tell the doctor. Tell him what?
Who I am. Doctor, Max knows. I think this has been too much of a strain for her. You'd better go immediately. Of course. Max! Bye, Doctor. Bye, Susan. Oh, no!
When she finds out that you know, she'll kill you. 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.
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All right, men. I guess that's all. Put him on the stretcher and take him to the morgue. Oh, must I stay, Inspector? For a while, Mrs. Bunting. Oh, dear. I need all the details for my report. Oh, that such a thing could have happened here. Here in my own house. Oh, dear.
Each week at this hour, Peter Lorre brings us the excitement of the great stories of the strange and unusual, of dark and compelling masterpieces culled from the four corners of world literature. Tonight, The Lodger by Mrs. Bellock-Lownes. Peter Lorre is the lodger, and Alan Bunting is played by Miss Agnes Moorhead. Mystery in the Air, brought to you by Camel Cigarettes.
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Go on, Mrs. Bunting. You said you were looking for a lodger? Yes, yes, Inspector, we had to. But I never dreamed such a thing could happen here to us. Why, it was only last Tuesday night my husband and I were sitting before our fire reading the newspaper about the latest murder. It was the theft by the Avenger.
Yes. Yes, I remember saying distinctly... Robert. Robert, that he could be the fellow standing next to you. Or maybe the man you bump into. It's a terrible thought. Yes, but it appears to me that the Avengers too quick for the police. And look here. Look here, it says this girl he got last night was like all the others. Pretty, blonde, and she'd just come from a music hall. Exactly like all the rest of his victims.
Oh, what a pity. Ellen, have you stopped to think who fits that description perfectly? Our own Daisy. Oh, sure. What a pretty thought, Bunting.
It's a good thing she's with her aunt instead of here. London isn't a safe place for any girl now. Just the same, I can't help thinking how fine it would be to have her here with us. Well, there's no sense even talking about it. We just can't afford it. I know that, Ellen, but I hope we could manage it some way. How? Haven't I scraped myself half crazy trying to keep us going? I know, Ellen. Well, don't you go worrying about it. I think we can...
Who do you suppose that could be? Could it be someone looking for a room? Oh, I wish it were. Then you could have your daisy back. Well, I went to the front door. And when I opened it, there stood a man wearing a black cape and hat. He carried with a single piece of luggage. Good evening, sir. I saw your sign. Says you have a room to rent. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Please, won't you come in?
Thank you. Could I take your cape, sir? No. I'm looking for a quiet room. But it should be very quiet. Oh, we have that, sir. Just that. Above all, our house is quiet. Your bag, sir. May I take it? No, just show me the room, please. Oh, yes, yes, sir. It's right up these stairs, sir. This way.
You see, sir, there's just my husband and me here, and we're ever so quiet. I'm sure you'll find this room to your liking. Well, here we are. Yes, I think I like this room. Yes, it is pleasant, isn't it? There's not many rooms with such pretty pictures, now, is there? I don't know. Pretty pictures interest me very little.
What I like about this room is the simplicity. I like the bareness. Yes, I think I'll take it. What is your name? Mrs. Bunting, sir. All right, Mrs. Bunting, I'll take the room. Oh, yes, sir. And please let me help you with your luggage. No, don't you touch it. Oh, but I only wish to... I know, I know. You only wish to help, Mrs. Bunting. It's...
It's just, uh, forgive me, it's just that I'm weary. I'm very tired. See, I do a lot of studying. Oh, yes, yes, of course, sir, of course. Well, anyway, you can see how few things I need. It's just what's in this bag. But this, this here is my favorite book. It's the Bible.
Good book, Mrs. Bunting, isn't it? Oh, yes. Oh, yes, indeed it is, sir. Yes, it says, uh... He brings them to their desired haven. Beautiful words, huh? And now at last I have found my haven of rest. Now, Mrs. Bunting, uh... If I pay you 30 shillings a week for this room... That says factory? 30... Oh, my... Yes, sir, yes, sir. That'll be quite all right. My name is Sleuth...
Mr. Sleuth? Yes, Sleuth. S-L-E-U-T-H. Think of a hound, Mrs. Bunting, and you'll never forget my name. Here. Here are your 30 shillings. Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you. Would you be wishing anything now? Supper? Tea? No, nothing. Good night, Miss Bunting. Yes, yes. Good night, sir. Good night.
Please stop that. You hear? Oh, please.
Oh, sir, I... What did I do? You were humming. That's music. Oh, but I... Music is an instrument of sin. Oh, yes, sir. And you did tell me, Mrs. Bunting, that your house would be absolutely quiet. Oh, but it is, sir. I didn't mean any harm. Believe me, sir. I believe you. I'm sorry I spoke sharply. I know you. You're trying to be considerate and kind. Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you. By the way, Mrs. Bunting, I...
I think I would like some bread and some tea. Oh, certainly, certainly, sir. I'll have it in an instant. Thank you.
So he took the room, eh, Ellen? Yes. He took the room at 30 shillings a week. Yes, in advance. Oh, hurry now, Bunting. Is the water for the tea hot yet? Yes, what a stroke. Put the bread and the butter on the tray. I'll pour the water. You know, Ellen, it's wonderful. Yes, it is. Do you realize what this means? We can have Daisy back to us now. Yes, I know, I know. Hurry.
Hurry with it now. Why, we can have her back with us tomorrow. Now, here's the water and the tea and I guess... Yes, it's all ready. Open the door, Bunting. I'll take it up to him right away. There you go, old girl. First thing in the morning, I'm going to fetch Daisy and bring her home. Oh, it's a wonderful night, Ellie. Wonderful. Oh, I mustn't do that. And she has had down many wounded from her. Yes, many strong men have been slain by her.
Come in. And to know how the wickedness of fall is... Oh, why, Mr. Sleuth, you... Yes? What is it? Those pictures, those pretty girls you've turned all their faces to the wall. Yes, I've turned them to the wall because they are wicked and sinful. Oh, but, sir, I... Don't you agree, Mrs. Bunting, that everything wicked and sinful should be purged from the earth?
Huh? Yes. Yes, yes, I do. I'm happy to hear that, Mrs. Bunting. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to leave. Oh, but sir, here's your tray. I... Good night, Mrs. Bunting. You know, for a moment I was stiff with fear. I set the tray down. He hadn't so much as noticed the lights up where I'd prepared for him and rushed to the window to watch.
he came out of our cottage and moved off down the street his black cape swirling about him finally he was lost in the fog and i don't know why but i stared after him for a long long while well i did the dishes and got ready for bed
I lay there thinking, and it was almost dawn before I had convinced myself that at most he was a trifle odd. And after all, paying 30 shillings, maybe... Maybe he had a right to his strange ways.
It was daylight when I was suddenly awakened by the newsboys shouting in the street. All of a murder, read all about it. Murder at King's Cross last night. Avenger strikes again. Slowly I realized what the newsboys were shouting. All of a murder, Avenger took six victims. Oh, no. Avenger at work again. Another girl falls victim to a knife. Avenger strikes again. Oh.
In a few moments, Mr. Peter Lorre will bring us the climax of tonight's mystery in the air when camels present act two of The Lodger. The Lodger.
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As the inspector takes notes of the terrifying events, Alan Bunting continues the story. And now, Mrs. Bunting, what did you do the morning you learned the Avenger had murdered his sixth victim? Well, I was a little frightened to meet our lodger, yet I kept my thoughts to myself.
After all, you know, there still wasn't much to go on. Robert had gone to make Daisy, so Mr. Sluice ate breakfast alone. I watched him through the crack in the door. Finally, I went in with more tea. Tea? No. No, thank you. Thank you, Mrs. Bunting. I don't care for any more tea, thanks. You're very kind. Thank you.
But I have to go on with my work now, if you'll excuse me. My fear really changed to pity then. Oh, he seemed so helpless and tired. And he was so considerate. This man couldn't be a murderer. It was all a coincidence. Besides, we just couldn't afford to lose that 30 shillings a week.
Well, around ten in the morning, he left the cottage, and I decided to go upstairs and have a look about his room. I had to find out what he carried in his one piece of luggage. It wasn't a bag. It was more like a case. Yes, yes, a case. A case for a knife. A case for a knife.
I rushed upstairs, my heart beating wildly at the thought I'd had of the case. No, no, there wasn't anything in his closet. I went over to the chest of drawers against the wall. Nothing in the top one. In the next one, there was just some socks and some underclothes. The next one was empty. There was only one other place for the small, narrow case.
The bottom drawer. And it was locked. I pulled and pulled at it. And then suddenly I heard the front door open downstairs. In a panic, I rushed out of the room and down the hall. Oh, you're upstairs, Ellen. Come on, Ellen. Daisy's here. Oh, thank heaven. Oh, Mother, it's so good to see you. It's so good to be home. Oh.
Why, whatever's the matter? Yes, you're quite white, Ellen. Oh, I... It's... I'm all right. I'm all right. It's just that I wasn't expecting you so soon. Well, it's good to be back. The country's all right, but there's nothing like London now, is there? Oh, no. No, no, there isn't. Well, as long as that avenge is about, you're going to have something to do to keep this young lady indoors, London or no London. Oh, don't you worry. Mother will see to that.
Oh, well, Daisy, I might as well get you settled. You see, Father, what did I tell you? You'll have a dust cloth in my hand before I have my coat on. Mr. Sluice. Why is my door open? We were just leaving, sir.
Have you been in my room? Oh, not at all. Not at all, sir. From now on, Mrs. Bunting, I shall keep my room locked. Oh, but you see, sir, I was just tidying up a bit, and Mr. Bunting, he brought our daughter home. She just arrived. This is Daisy's place to meet you, sir.
She's been away for quite a while. That's why we're a bit excited, you might say. Yes. You were probably surprised to hear us laughing and carrying on. Yes, yes. I must say I was, I was. But then there are different kinds of joy, are there not, Daisy? Yes. Yes, I'm sure there are. Yes. Yes.
There is the despicable, evil joy of the abandoned, and then there is the divine happiness of the blessed. That's a great difference. You understand that, Daisy, don't you? Why, yes, sir. Yes, Mr. Sleuth. Good, dear. There are so few young women nowadays who do.
I'm Mr. Sleuth. You mean a girl's not to enjoy life at all? Not to have any fun? Enjoyment and fun, my child, are a devil's breeding ground. All his implements are there. Pleasure and impropriety. The
The temptation of music, dancing. Oh, that's crazy. Why, there's nothing I like better than dancing. And I'm not... You like to dance? Do you know what she was saying, Mr. Stuth? She's just a child. Daisy, you know you've never been one for dancing. You've never learned how to... But I did learn, Mother. While I was away.
What's so wrong about it? What's the harm in dancing? It says she lies in wait as for a prey and increases the transgressors among men. I don't know what you mean. I've never heard such nonsense. Nonsense? You call a scripture nonsense? Daisy, Daisy, go into the front room. It's all right, Mrs. Bunting. It's all right. I'm used to that kind of talk. Good day. Daisy? Yes?
Daisy, listen to me. What, Mother? I've got to tell you about... About what? Oh, nothing. Nothing. I've got to go out for a while now. I'll be back. For a moment, I was about to tell her my awful suspicions, but I stopped. They were only suspicions. At the same time, I had a thought...
I'd go to the coroner's inquest they were having for the Avenger's latest victim. I was hoping to hear something said that would clear my suspicions of the lodger. At least I'd give him this last chance. A lady was testifying as I took my seat. She'd seen the Avenger from her window, she said. And her description of him didn't tally with Mr. Sleuth at all.
Oh, I can't tell you how relieved I was till it was pointed out she couldn't possibly have seen anyone that night from her window because of the...
Then the next witness was a Mr. Cannot. I leaned forward anxiously as they swore him in and began asking questions. You say, Mr. Cannot, you're positive that you saw this man? Positive, sir. It was only a few moments before the murder that I saw the Avenger. Describe him. Well, he wore a black cape, I believe, and was very gaunt-looking, and was carrying a small handbag.
A handbag? Yes, a small, narrow handbag. Such a one as might contain a knife. A knife! A knife! Silence in the court. Proceed, Mr. Carrington. Well, he had a low, hesitating voice. I'd say with something of a continental accent. An educated man, I'd judge, but quite mad. And what do you mean by that? Well, as he emerged from the fog, he was talking aloud to himself.
Believe me, sir, he was reciting scriptures from the Bible. Oh, no, it can't be. It can't be. Could there be any doubt about it now? Mr. Sleuth, our lodger, he was the murderer. I got out of the courtroom as quickly as I could. I didn't even notice it had started to rain.
I hardly remember going home, running and walking somehow, while the nightmare of fear and terror grew bigger and bigger inside me. It was three streets from our cottage that I saw my husband, Robert. One thought hit me clearly. I realized Daisy must be home alone with the Avenger. Bunting!
Bunting! Why, Ellen. Ellen, what is it? Bunting, where's Daisy? Where is she? Where's Daisy? Why, she's at home. Oh, listen. Listen, Bunting. Listen. Sleuth. Sleuth is the Avenger. What? What are you saying? Ah, larger. He's the Avenger. Daisy's alone with him right now. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!
Now listen to me carefully, my child, and rejoice with me in your heart, for the moment is at hand, and you're not afraid, Daisy, are you? No, I'm not afraid. You're very beautiful, and you should live in the ways of righteousness. You hear me, Daisy? You want to live in the ways of righteousness, don't you? Yes, yes, I do. I know you do. I know, and...
And that is why I've been sent to purge your soul so that you will be elevated beyond all sin and evil. You like to dance, Daisy, don't you? Already six have gone on before you and they are beyond all sin and evil. You're the seventh to be elevated, my child, and my work is almost done for the seventh, I've promised, at this appointed hour. Help!
Be still, Daisy. And don't listen to the temptations of the crowd when they call out your name. Because I am here to save you from all evil and wickedness that consumes you like a wildfire of scarlet and crimson.
You like to dance, don't you? Yes, I do. Look at me, my child. Look at me and don't fear me. And do not tremble. Woe to them that call evil good and good evil... and put darkness for light and light for darkness. And therefore I must bring you down... like the lamb to slaughter. And now I lift my hand with a flaming sword...
For now comes the vengeance and the time to rejoice. Stop it. Stop it, you villain. Daisy, come here. Come here. Drop that knife, you thief. Drop that knife. Oh, you're safe. You're safe. Drop that knife, you... Take away your hands. Let go of me. Get away. Oh.
Don't you know that such that are for death to death... and such that are for a sword to the sword... and no one, no one dare to have pity on them. Here. Here. His knife! His knife! Oh, mercy. He fell on the knife. Yes. And he's burning. He's burning me like a fire...
Oh, it purges me and consumes me. All sin and evil are falling away. Praise, praise and glory. For it is I who is the seventh. Yes, the vengeance is fulfilled. Ah. Ah.
Thank you.
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Many of those camel smokers are doctors. You know, three leading independent research organizations asked 113,597 doctors, what cigarette do you smoke, doctor? The brand named most was Camel. According to a nationwide survey, more doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette. ♪♪
Next week, Mystery in the Air, starring Mr. Peter Lorre, brings you one of the world's great stories of the strange and unusual, The Horla by De Maupassant, with a special musical score composed and conducted by Paul Barron. ♪♪
Hey there, Mr. Pipe Smoker. Do you know that more pipes smoke Prince Albert than any other tobacco? Well, it's true. So why don't you give P.A. a try? Prince Albert is specially made for smoking pleasure. It's choice tobacco, specially treated to ensure against tongue bite. Crimp cut to burn slow, smoke cool. See if the extra rich, full flavor of Prince Albert doesn't give you added interest in your pipe.
Be sure to listen to Prince Albert's Grand Ole Opry Saturday night for a half hour of folk music and laughter with Red Foley, Minnie Pearl, Rod Brassfield, and the rest of the Opry gang. And as Red's special guest this week, you'll hear Salty Holmes. Remember, Prince Albert's Grand Ole Opry, Saturday night over NBC. ♪♪
Listen again next week at this same time when the makers of Camel Cigarettes present Mr. Peter Lorre in Mystery in the Air. Next week's play will be The Horla by De Maupassant. The artists supporting Mr. Lorre tonight were Agnes Moorhead as Ellen, Henry Morgan as the voice of Mystery, Barbara Eiler as Daisy, Eric Snowden as Bunting,
Raymond Lawrence as the inspector, Rolf Sedan as the witness, and Conrad Binion as the newsboy. And on behalf of Mr. Lorry and the entire cast, our sincere thanks to Agnes Moorhead for her great portrayal of Ellen Bunting. This is Michael Roy in Hollywood wishing you all a pleasant good night for Camel. Thank you.
This is NBC, The National Broadcasting Company. Hey, you weirdos! Our next Weirdo Watch Party is this coming Saturday, and this one is extra special as it's our Christmas Watch Party, and yours truly plays a part in it! Our hostess, Mistress Malicious and her team at Mistress Peace Theatre have recreated and re-edited the film for all of the funny stuff you'd expect from them.
And they replaced all the narration throughout with my own narration, even keeping a few of the ad-libs I tossed in. It's Santa Claus from 1959, sometimes known as Santa Claus vs. the Devil. It tells the story of the devil showing up at Christmas time, determined to ruin it all, and ruin some children in the process.
But Santa refuses to let Christmas be tainted and even teams up with Merlin the magician to help defeat the devil so Christmas can be saved.
Santa Claus, or Santa Claus vs. the Devil, hosted by Mistress Peace Theatre! It's this Saturday night, 10pm Eastern, 9pm Central, 8pm Mountain, 7pm Pacific, on the Watch Party 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 often the horror hosts join in the page's chat box with us too!
Mistress Malicious brings us Santa Claus or Santa Claus vs. the Devil this Saturday night for our next weirdo watch party. I ho-ho-ho-hope to see you there! Get the details on the watch party page at WeirdDarkness.com.
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If you were planning to commit murder openly and yet wanted not to be caught,
You would, of course, choose a time of year when the streets would be filled with people. People in outlandish costume, celebrating a holiday. In fact, the perfect night for your crime would be Halloween. Hello, creeps. This is T4Y opening the doors to the Mystery Playhouse. I feel a word of explanation is due about tonight's play. It's called The Ghost...
was the gun. It was written by Anthony Boucher, and it's a story that could take place only on the night of all hallows. Halloween to you. It's a wonderful device Mr. Boucher has used, a clever and ingenious device. And so I'm going to ask you to imagine for the next 25 minutes that it is Halloween.
And you're busy answering doorbells, rung by children busy playing trick or treat. Or, if you'd rather, you may be one of the players. There isn't anything unusual about people living in stores in Berkeley, California...
Most of their owners abandoned them to fight for Uncle Sam and were glad enough to rent them out to the war workers who had piled into town looking for any available space they might try to call home. Tonight, in one of these two befores, are a man and woman. They might be any ordinary, fairly young couple as she sews and he tries to concentrate on the evening paper. They might be, but... Well, let's step inside and listen.
Ben! What's wrong, Rose? Oh, another one of those kids with a mask at the window. Trying to scare us. You're just encouraging them, Ben. Answering the door every time and giving them candy when they ring. That's what I bought it for. Don't forget, honey, we were kids once. Trick or treat, mister. Trick or treat? You know what I mean, mister. Do I get a treat or play Halloween tricks on you instead? Ha, ha, ha.
Well, I guess it'll have to be a treat this time. Gee, Candy, two handfuls. Thanks, mister.
Trick or treat. Wonder what they'd do if I held out on them sometime. Not much to this place. Please don't remind me that I gotta live here with you and that Joe Barker... in a store facing right on the street... where you gotta soap up your own window... so people can't look in and think you're an ad for tomato juice or something. Listen, honey, where's there a safer place for me to hole up? Berkeley's full of transients now. Nobody keeps an eye on strangers. Too many of them...
And with Joe already working here, it was a natural. How do you know you can trust Joe? Don't worry about him. We're old buddies. I told you that, honey. I'd sure like to know where he's getting all the money he throws around. He don't earn all that out at the war plant. Don't ask too many questions, Rose. Then you don't get into any trouble. Oh, Ben, if that's another one of those... Ah, honey, they're just having fun.
Trick or treat, mister. Trick or treat, huh? This kid's got a swell racket, you know. The shakedown, we used to call it back in... Ben. Okay, Rose. I'm sorry. Trick or treat, mister. Here's some candy. Run along, kid. Hey, thanks. You're okay, mister.
How about a little treat for us, honey? I brought a bottle home for Halloween. Oh, wait till Joe comes home from the movies. He'll have a drink with you. I gotta have to drink now to Halloween right now. Ben, even that stuff don't give you courage anymore. That's okay. I got enough courage to hang on to you. Oh, let's get out of this place, Ben. You can't do any good here sitting in the house all day afraid of your own shadow. Turn it out, Rose. It's true. I know you're scared. Now...
Don't if I don't like Halloween. Boy, how Joe and I used to celebrate back in Chicago when we was kids. Maybe that's what got us started. You walk up to some dope and you tell him, trick or treat or else. Oh, don't go, Ben. Maybe they'll leave us alone. Just one more, honey. I'm having fun. Trick or treat, Mr. Flaxner. Mr. Flaxner it is this time. Well, you're a real polite ghost.
But suppose I said trick this time, Mr. Ghost. Yes, what would you do? Rose. Rose, honey. It shot somebody. Shot it. You're hurt. Oh, Ben. Ben, say something. Don't die. Don't die.
Rose! Rose! Ben. Rose, what's happened? Oh, Joe. Joe, you're home. I painted, I guess. Ben. Ben's dead, Rose. Rose, you shot him. No, Joe. No, I didn't do it.
Just one of them kids that come playing Halloween tricks. Dressed like a ghost. Then what's the gun doing here on the floor? I didn't see it before, Joe, honest. The ghost, that thing, whatever it was, must have thrown it in here afterwards. What was it? Couldn't you see? Just something white sort of floating away in the dark. Oh, okay. I'm not surprised. I knew Ben was mixed up in something back in Chicago. Oh.
Had to come out here. He shot a man, Joe, I can tell you now. Johnny Angelino was his name. They called him the Angel. I got crossed up in black market liquor. That's why we had to skip town, why he left then sent for me. Oh, so that was it. I knew he was scared of his skin. But you and me, baby, we got to keep our linen clean. What do you mean, Joe? Well, I'm not like him. I've got sense. And first I got to get rid of this gun. Joe, you still think that I... I don't care who did it.
You know I went for you like a ton of bricks when I first laid eyes on you. Don't, Joe, please. Not like this with him lying there. Okay, baby.
But I gave Ben his break. Now I'm looking out for you and me, understand? Oh, Joe, don't leave me alone with him. I'm getting a San Francisco train right now. Paying a local fare, getting off the first stop and walking back. Now leave this gun on the train, you get it? What if somebody comes? Maybe they heard the shot. Keep your nerve, baby. Not likely anybody will show up if nobody's come by this time. Now give me five minutes, then call the police. But, Joe, what if they think I...
I was alone with him. Tell him the same story you told me. You still think that I... I told you I don't care. You and me, we're like this from now on. Joe, Joe, don't you. You're hurting me. Like this. Joe. That's us. Now give me five minutes and then get on that phone.
♪♪
And so, Miss Franklin, you and the murdered man were sharing this place? With me, Inspector. You say he was shot about 7.30 or so? About that time, Inspector. We had the radio on listening to one of those mystery programs and was over just a short time before. That's right, Inspector. I heard it myself. It's off the air at 7.30. Oh, it's you, Willoughby, you know, good rookie cop. Where were you when I wanted you? You heard what the lady said, listening to the mystery program. Well, just keep out of my way, Willoughby. I'm doing all right without you.
You mess me up this time with your phony clues, the armed services won't be the only thing you'll be recently discharged from. All right, you. Your name's Joe Barker, that right? Correct, Joe Barker. And where were you when... I was at a movie. One of them double bills at the campus theater. Don't go, it's lousy. Oh, yeah? Well, look, Barker, what time was it when you were at the show? Oh, I got out about 7.30. Takes about 20 minutes to get up here. I was walking. What about the gun, Inspector? The men haven't found it yet, will they be?
Nowhere on this block anyways. But they did find this. That's it. The white sheet and the mask. Whoever shot Ben was wearing it. Well, that might help us some. Might help us, Inspector? I'd say it tells us from the size of the sheet our murderer would have to be five feet or under to be completely covered and disguised. That's right. He looked awful short. I am.
Either of you happen to know anybody five feet or under who might have wanted this man out of the way? Gee, Inspector, I don't know right off. Joe, what about that hunchback? Hey, you're right, Rose. Listen, Inspector. Miss Franklin here and I heard Ben and this hunchback having a row one night. He wouldn't say what it was about. A hunchback? Wait. And there's somebody else.
Helen. A girl named Helen Kirk. Oh, Rose, you don't think... Oh, Joe and I. Well, she was a friend of Ben's before I came out here. She works out where Joe does. She's little. Not over five feet. A hunchback and a job, huh? Miss Franklin, where did you say you and Ben Flaxner came from? Chicago... Cheyenne. You didn't mean to say Chicago, did you? No. Cheyenne. Both of us come from there. All right. That'll be all for now. Don't leave town.
I'll be wanting to see both of you again. Well, Inspector, uncovered any startling facts since my roast beef and coffee? No dope on Flaxen at all from Cheyenne, will it be? I thought not. Well, look at these wires. I've got plenty from Chicago and Washington, too. So they know Ben Flaxen's fingerprints both places, huh? I thought the girl slipped up about Chica, Cheyenne...
He was in the black market in Chicago? Hmm, and liquor mostly. Doing all right, too, until some mug named Johnny Angelino got bumped off. They think Flaxner did it. They said the cops couldn't get anything on him, but they think Angelino's pals did. That's why Flaxner blew town. Johnny Angelino. That name sounds familiar. Well, you probably remember him as the Angel Inspector. He was a dwarf, four feet eight or nine, I'd say, at the most. Just the right size for our trick-or-treat killer. Hmm.
A ghost with a gun. Oh, but he couldn't be, Willoughby. Ghosts don't come back and kill their own murderers with the same gun used on them. Or do they? Oh, doggone it, Willoughby. I know you'd get me all balled up again if I let you in on this case. Take it easy, Inspector. Remember, we have two other suspects besides the ghost. Let's check up on their alibis.
Who's it at? Open this door. Who are you? What do you want? It's late. I go to sleep. What do you want? In, first of all. Ah, it's better. Sorry to get you out of bed, but it's really only half past twelve. Gina only, poor unspeck. What do you want with me? Plenty. You're handling black market poultry. You had a row with a corpse of mine. It happens he used to play black market games, too. I don't talk. No? No.
You better come along with me. Maybe the boys can persuade you to open up. I don't go with you. Okay, big boy, drop that gun. When did he come in? Just now, and just in time, I guess. Maybe not, not while I... Hey, you take this! I guess that'll put him where we want him for a while. Now, Gino? Oh, no.
What hit me? I did. What's your game impersonating an officer? Impersonating? I hope the inspector never hears that one. He tried to take me away. So you're in this with a hunchback. My name's O'Rourke, bud. Take a look at this. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Well, on the level. Since when are the FBI and city police playing cops and robbers with each other? Here's my credentials. Here you go.
Oh, that's a good one. Yeah, except it landed on my chin. I'm sorry, Willoughby. I took you for one of the black market boys mixed up with Gino here. Yeah? What's a G-man doing stooging for a black market operator? Turn that the other way around, Willoughby. Gino's our stooge and a whale of a good one. I thought you were from the gang he's working on. I help the law.
Help catch you, Black Market. But what were you doing with Ben Flaxner? One of the Black Market boys see him, tell him he used to work with Johnny Angeline. Maybe he will work with us. Then we catch him. He tell him he think about it. Okay. But where were you tonight at 7.30? He was with me, Willoughby, making out a report.
Well, I guess that still leaves me with a ghost. Ghost? Yeah, a ghost and a doll. I think I'll check on the doll first. Miss Helen Kirk, I believe. Oh!
Hey, how'd you get in my apartment? Your landlady was very helpful when she found out I was the law. You're a cop. Where do you get off coming here at this hour? Yeah, my watch says nearly 1.30. I just quit work. Then I don't suppose you heard about Ben Flaxner. Benny, what's happened to him? Tonight between 7.30 and 8 sometime, he was shot and killed. Who'd want to kill Benny? That's what I'm trying to find out.
You and the murdered man were friends? Sure, I knew Benny. Before he brought her out here. Oh, he hadn't told you about Rose Franklin before? No, he didn't, the little skunk. Oh, well, pardon me. I guess now I ought to have more respect. I guess you didn't see much of him when she arrived, huh? Well, that was no skin off my teeth. So I got plenty of other chances. I can imagine. Thanks. Thanks.
You're not so bad yourself. I can see you're the cute type men really go for. Yeah, I guess I'm what you might call petite in French. Yeah, most of you men like the middle, like you. Look at me with my shoes off. Say, you're no bigger than a kid. Ain't it the truth?
I don't even come up to your chin. No, about four feet eight or nine, I'd say. Well, you don't have to back away. I wasn't going to bite you. You know, Ben Flaxner, for whom you just mourned so prettily, was shot by someone just your height, Miss Kirk. She told you that, didn't she? Yeah.
She sicked your aunt to me, that rose. No, no, she merely suggested I look you up. Why do you go and believe what she tells you? She's jealous of me. How do you know she didn't make that story up? The ghost and everything to get even with me. How do you know she didn't do it herself? Now, now, now, Miss Kirk, you mustn't get so excited. You think maybe I could have done it? Nobody's accusing you of anything.
At the moment. Well, well, well. Good morning, Inspector.
It's not that good, Willoughby. Did you follow that tip I gave you last night on the Kirk game? Yeah, yeah, I followed the tip. You checked at the Richmond plant? Yeah, I checked at the Richmond plant. Want to know what I found? Helen, Kirk got to work on time last night. Was working at the time Flaxen was killed. Yeah. Looks like I was, shall we say, on the wrong track? Yeah, I should say we shall.
You better take this next one who's sitting down, rookie. Sounds familiar. Well, shoot. We got a report on a slug. The gun that killed Flaxner was identically the same type. A brand new make that killed Johnny Angelino, the angel. But, Inspector, ghosts don't come back and kill people. You said that yourself. Yeah, yeah. But it's got to be somebody five feet or under. You said that yourself. Hey, maybe I gave myself a bum steer. Uh-huh.
Inspector, wait a minute. Can you get me that sheet and the mask we found last night? What for now? I'm visiting every kid on that block after school today. One of them must have seen that ghost with a gun last night. Don't be frightened, Tommy. You were out last night playing trick-or-treat, weren't you? I didn't do nothing to make the police come. Look at this, Tommy. Is this your sheet and mask? No, no, it ain't. You can ask my dad and mom. They'll tell you.
Yes, sure. I was a faxist last night, Mr. Willoughby. But I didn't have anything to do with them getting killed. Did you see anybody else around playing trick-or-treat? Sure. Sure, lots of kids were out. Were any of them wearing this sheet and this mask? Sure. That's Terry Murdoch. He lives down on the next corner. Yeah.
This is your sheet, isn't it, Terry? And this is the mask you wore last night. No. No, they're not mine. Your mother said they were. No, honest, they're not. She said you came home early last night, went right to bed, and had terrible nightmares. She had to sit up with you. No. No, I didn't. She said you were so upset you couldn't go to school today. I was sick, though. Because something happened last night that frightened you. Isn't that it? Yes. Yes. Yes.
What was it, Terry? I don't know. Terry, you're a junior G-man, aren't you? That's what your mother said. Now, I want to help. I want you to help me. How? Something happened when you called at Flaxner's place last night, and he was shot. Now, you know what it was.
Now try to help me, Terry. Okay, I'll try. It scared me awful. I tried to yell even, but I couldn't. It was like everything bad I ever dreamed about.
Inspector, this is Willoughby. What now? How about rounding up Helen Kirk and Gino the Hunchback and having them both over at Flaxner's place at seven tonight? Oh, and be sure Rose Franklin and the Barker guy are there. What are you doing now? Giving a little party? Yes, Inspector, I'm giving a little Halloween party of my own tonight, even if I am a day late. And guess who's going to be guest of honor? I'm afraid I couldn't possibly.
Why, Inspector, the ghost with a gun, of course. Hey, what's going on around here, Mike?
I can't wait the whole evening. I got a day. Keep quiet. Wait a minute. I see all of our guests have arrived. Oh, yes, Mr. Willoughby. Oh, but the one you're supposed to bring. Yeah, you're a little late, aren't you, copper? But not too late, Miss Kirk. Hey, what do you want with me? You'll see, Gino. And you too, Miss Franklin and Mr. Barker. Yeah. I found our ghost with a gun of last night. The one who shot
Ben? No, the ghost didn't shoot Ben Flaxner, Miss Franklin. There was something standing behind our ghost, something that came sneaking up behind our little trick-or-treat boy when he rang your bell, something crouching behind him, waiting, and shot. Willoughby, Willoughby, please, you sure you know what you're talking about this time? This time, Inspector, yes.
So you see, our murderer didn't have to be five feet or under after all. But didn't this here ghost see who it was? This here ghost, Miss Kirk, was grabbed from behind, his mouth covered so he couldn't scream, by two very long, strong arms, and whisked away into the night. He... The ghost knows who the real killer is? He thinks he might. Oh. When the thing got him out of sight into a pitch-black alley, he warned them never to tell what had happened, or he'd come back and put him out of the way like he'd shot Flaxner. I thought you said you were bringing this ghost over tonight as guest of honor, Willoughby. He's waiting outside.
Come on in, Terry. Terry Murdoch! This is your ghost. And I think the thing that crouched behind him is here with us in this room right now. Am I right, Terry? Yeah. I know him now, Mr. Willoughby. Get back to the gun. Barker's gun. Terry!
I don't want to be grabbed. Don't go on me. I've got him. I had a nick of him in the hand. I had to try the kid. Now let go. Joe, it was you. And if I'm not mistaken, this gun you were about to use is the same one you used to kill Ben Flaxner. Joe, you told me you'd left it on the train. Probably a gag, Miss Franklin. To let you think he was protecting you. Gee, why'd he shoot that poor little guy? Because Barker's up to his neck in black market dealings here in Berkeley. Flaxner knew it and was blackmailing Barker. You can't prove anything but what that kid says. Who'd believe him? I would, Barker. Besides, now I've got your gun.
A ballistics test will prove it's the same gun you used to kill your buddy Flaxner last night. You played your last Halloween trick, Mr. Barker. Now the state's going to furnish the treatment. THE END
That was The Ghost with the Gun by Anthony Boucher, and this is T4Y closing the doors to the Mystery Playhouse and saying goodnight, sleep tight.
♪♪♪
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Mr. District Attorney, champion of the people, defender of truth, guardian of our fundamental rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. ♪♪
Mr. District Attorney is brought to you by two famous Bristol-Myers products, Ipana and the Sal Hepatica. Ipana for the smile of beauty. Sal Hepatica for the smile of health. Ipana, Sal Hepatica. Ipana, Sal Hepatica.
And it shall be my duty as district attorney not only to prosecute to the limit of the law all persons accused of crimes perpetrated within this county, but to defend with equal vigor the rights and privileges of all its citizens.
This evening our adventure begins in a closely guarded house in the District Attorney's County. Here we find Fanny Devine, once a leading figure in the underworld, talking to Monk Garson, his only remaining follower.
I'm through, Monk. I can't take it anymore. I can't stand it any longer. Oh, look, Danny, you're safe in this county. Relax and try to get some sleep. Sleep? I can't sleep. How can a man sleep with that monkey chattering all the time? Quiet, no, that's quiet. You're bothering the boss. The monkey give me the creeps.
I got home out the window. Wait a minute, Vanny. I took my moniker from this little fella because he's our luck. Hey, you've seen him pick up the dice and rattle them just like he knew. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's why I call him No Dice. All our luck we got left. Anyhow, he ate a monkey. He's a marmoset. Well, he gets on my nerves. Take it easy, Vanny. He'll be all right. I told you, this DA, he don't let anybody come in his town that could hurt you. Yeah? He don't know half the guys that are after me.
This county's so safe. Why did I get that note from Bullets Cane? Well, they can't stop Bullets Cane from using the U.S. mail. Quiet, quiet, no dice. Hey, how about that doctor? Isn't he due here now? Hey, he's right outside. Get him in there. Get him in there. For sure. For sure. Come in, Dr. McCord. Mr. Devine is ready for the treatment. Oh, thanks, Josh. Come in.
Well, Divine, how do you feel? Lousy, Doc. I can't get no rest. I keep seeing that curtain. Well, what you need right now is a sedative. Now just lie on this couch, Divine, and roll up your sleeve. Yeah. Yeah, Doc. I rub off your arm. Yeah, there. And here goes the needle. Ouch! Now that didn't hurt, Divine. Yeah, yeah. You know...
I appreciate a high-class croaker like you working on me, Doc. Well, your case interests me. And then it's lucky we ran into you on a train coming back from Alca. That place they had Fanny. And you, Garci, you were really the only one waiting for him at the gates there. Yes, sir. Here. Just one guy. A little monk here. Just like he says, Doc McCord.
My health, the nerves, the way they are. We're playing a nice party to find you've got your practice in the same town I'm heading for. Well, all right. I can see you're suffering from a classic fear neurosis. I get plenty to be afraid of. Now I'm warning you. You've got to relax this tension. And I'll be back later to see if I can get you settled for a nice rest. That's imperative. You must sleep. Yes, sir.
I'll try. Well, Doc, if you do, I'll take you out. Yes, I'm through for the time being. Hey, wait a minute. What's this? This? It seems to be a piece of paper lying by the window. Yeah, yeah. Look what it says. Look, Doc. Look, I know that handwriting. Let me read it for you. Rat Devine, you're going out tonight.
Say, this is Kane's family. Get me out of here. Get me out of here. Lock the windows. Lock the doors. Wait a minute. Give me somebody to beat it. Take it easy. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Do I understand this note here is a threat? This note is from Bullets Kane, Doc. A guy that don't like the force. Oh. Oh.
Well, there's just one thing for you to do. Get to bed. Sure. Sure, that's fine. But before we do anything, we're going to call the district attorney. The District Attorney
Can he be seen now, nurse? Oh, yes, Mr. District Attorney. Doctor left no instructions about visitors at all. Is that the law? The DA? Yes. Bring him in. All right. Come on, Harrington. All right. So this is Vanny Devine, huh? Yes. The big shot. Well, Harrington, he doesn't look like much now, does he? No, I guess he was lucky to be alive. What's the matter, Vanny? Stomachache? Uh, no, gents. It's his life. He's
He's got it so bad he's had to have a doc on this here nurse. And who are you? I'm a... My pal, Monk Garkin, dear. Oh, yeah, yeah. I've heard about the Monk. What, they tell me he would have been out on the big rock with you, Vanny. No, sir, I'm clean. I never touch no gun or no knife. Well, we won't argue about that. Now, Vanny, I've come out here to have a straight talk with you. Nurse, give me a glass of water, will you? All right, give him the water, nurse. Then you'd better leave us alone. Yes, sir. You are, Mr. Devine. Okay. Okay, blow. Blow.
Now, look here, D.A. Hey, hey, what is this, a zoo? It's just my mama's setting notes, I see. He wants a drink of the boss's water. Well, get him out of here, too. All right, boss, all right. Don't get yourself nervous. Come on, Lone Dice. Now, listen, D.A.,
You've got to protect me. You've got to. Well, why should I protect you? And from what? I've got a note, D.A. It came from Bullitt's cane. Tells me I ain't going to live another night. From Bullitt's cane, huh? He ain't one of your fans, Vanny. You've got that note right here. Was it mailed? There was two. One was mailed. One wasn't. Oh, then cane's in town.
I expected that when I heard you had showed up. Now, wait a minute. You've got to protect me. I'm clean with the law now. With five years on the rock for income tax fraud? I think you came clean at cut rates, Manny. Yeah, by right, hang on. Look, go easy. No, it isn't you I have to protect. It's the people of this county. That's why I see that you don't get killed. But you've got to play it my way. Well, what?
What way is that? You'll stay right here in this house and not go out. There'll be no gun battles on the streets of this town with innocent people killed. Sir, stay right here. Yes, and I'm going to ship those bodyguards of yours who they met downstairs out of town. Why? I don't like their looks. But you can't leave me alone. No, you won't be alone. Monk Garson can stay with you. Inspector Brophy and his men will guard the house. You stay right here and you'll be safe until we've rounded up Bullard's camp. And then you'll both get out of town.
You'd better play ball with me, Benny. I'll be back this evening to be sure you have.
Oh, good evening, Mr. District Attorney. Good evening, Doctor. McCord, John McCord. My patient here told me you were looking after him. Well, I don't think you could call it that, Doc. We didn't ask him to play in our backyard. How do you feel, Danny? You got those cops downstairs? Yes, they're there. That's good. Hey,
Uh, this excitement, it ain't good for my heart, is it, Doc? Well, let's not worry about your heart. Oh, nurse. Yes, sir. In case the patient can't sleep tonight, I'm leaving these capsules. Three of them. Yes, sir. Now, one of them ought to make him comfortable, but give him as many as he seems to need. Yes, sir.
Now, Devine, you relax. Yeah. The district attorney's here. You've got to realize you have nothing to worry about. That's what you say. No, no, no, no. This attitude isn't helping you any. Well, good evening, gentlemen. Good night, Doctor. Good night. Well, Vanny, you're a lot more trouble than you're worth. Listen, you saw that note I got for Bullock Kane? He wasn't fooling. You'll just see me through this.
I'll get out of the country. Canada, Central America. I'll find it there. You'll certainly get out of this county, my friend. We locate Kane. We want to get rid of him, too, as I told you. And when we find him, you both go. But you ain't gonna let him send me over. That ain't legal to you. That looks a lot different on the receiving end, don't it, Danny? I'm staying here myself tonight. You? Does that make you feel any better? Why, yeah, sure. Sure, that's fine. That's...
At mighty times, I've even brought my secretary so I can keep up with my work while I'm staying here. Yeah, don't forget, brother, it's not because you rate it. Well, whatever it is, I'm mighty grateful. That's all right. Save the thanks. Hey! Who? Oh. Go ahead and define. Answer. Hello? Hello, Vanny. Who's that? This is Bullets Kane. Huh? Huh?
I just wanted you to understand. I know you got cops there. I know you're beefed to the DA. You're still going over tonight. Hey, wait. Wait. That's all, rat. Hey, hey. DA. Call my cops. Call those cops. Get them in here. That was Kane. This time on the cellar. Get them in here. You'll never be divine. You're not going to be killed by bullets, Kane. Oh.
I thought I was good, Cain, but not that good. It was the D.A. himself giving me a polite hello, and that dumb cop of his ready to stick out his tongue and ask for a pill. Oh, it was rich. Yeah, Johnny. Looks like this new idea of mine would come out all right. Ah, sure it will. You know, I never worked a heavy grip like this before. Yeah, but don't you worry. I'm not going to be a cop.
People have been falling for this dignified front of mine for years. Why, Vanny and Monk Dutton on the train were the easiest marks I ever trimmed. A wise guy always fought for a con man like you, Johnny. Sure, sure. That's why I planted you on that train. Yeah, it sure worked. And when I dropped that note in Vanny's room this afternoon, I wish you could have heard him howl. You couldn't calm him down, huh? Oh, not even with my professional skill. John the doctor. Heh, heh.
Hey, you really know anything about it? Oh, I had a few years at medical school. Yeah? But let's forget that. Oh. Now, I've given Vanny a couple of harmless hypos to dress the act. And I've already dug two big fees out of him. You're going to make out all right. But he's going tonight. Yeah.
I got a nurse there with him. I got the nurse from an agency, and she's on the level. But the sleeping capsules, well, they ain't on the level. Will they hurt? As soon as he swallows one, it'll tear him to pieces. Not too quick. It'll be a matter of minutes. Good. ♪♪
Well, let's have a look at my watch, then. It's 11.30. I don't want to keep you any longer. Oh, that's all right. You'd better get home now. The rest of this can wait until morning when we're back in the office. But are you going to stay here all night? Yes. Harrington and I and Brophy and the police. Oh. Yeah. Quite a turnout for a bum like Vanny Devine, ain't it, Miss Muller? Yeah.
He certainly caused plenty of excitement. A man like Vanity Vine represents the end of an era. Just a nuisance now. Out of date. I won't feel easy till he's out of this county, too. Yeah, me neither. Well, good night, you two. Good night. Don't sit up too late now. Oh, no, we won't. Hey, by the way, Harry. Yeah? Better go down and see your bro.
Oh, hello, Miss Sawyer. You still up? Yes, I'll be on duty all night. Oh, gosh, it's nerve-wracking, this waiting, isn't it? Miss Latter, you tired out? Uh-huh. Honestly, I don't see how I'll get to sleep when I get home. Well, I'll tell you what, Miss Miller. The doctor left some capsules for the patient if he got restless and couldn't sleep.
Here they are. Now, I won't need all three. You take this one. Oh, thanks. Take it a little water the minute you get home. You'll sleep all right. In just a moment, your district attorney will continue with this case.
And now back to Mr. District Attorney. Hey. What's that? 12.30, Danny. Now lie back and take it easy.
I ain't slept a wink. Yeah, I know. Listen, Monk. It's like I can see him in the corner there looking at me.
Regan Kane, Alvin Aldy, the kid from Kansas City, all of them. Dead guys won't hurt you, Fanny. Slide back now, huh? Get that weakened monkey away from me, will you? Quiet, no dice. Quiet. I can't think with him jumping around. Down the chair, no dice. Now be a good boy now. Let me straighten your pillow for you. There. Thanks. You really ought to get some rest now. Rest? Yeah.
It's a funny one. Can't you give him a pill or something, Miss? Yes, there's a sleeping capsule doctor left for him. This red one right here. Oh, yeah. Give me that. It might make me feel better at that. I'll just pour you a little water. Ah, that's good, Fanny. Swallow a little pill and then lay back on the Weedman Willow and create yourself some shut-eye. There you are. Just put it on your tongue and swallow it with the water. Now, wait a minute.
Will this thing put me clear on this? You'll go right down to sleep. But I don't want it. What? You don't? Now, Bernie, be sensible. You and you... I don't want it, I tell you. I can't pass out now. Jane might come for me when I was asleep. But that D.A. and Harrington and the cops are downstairs. No, but... Listen, I know what I'm doing. I've got to stay awake. I ain't going to go in my sleep. I've seen them do that. Now, Mr. Devine, I... Get away from me with that sleep pill.
I've seen them lying down and dreaming. Somebody up for the gun. It's a big sleep. Oh, no. No, no, not for mine. Well, all right, Fanny, all right. Oh, no. Oh, brace up, Chappie. You're among friends here. Oh, no.
Ah, one o'clock in the morning, Chief. Yes, I know. What's happened? Hey, what's that? Oh, Monk Garson, Benny. Did you know anything about this? What's the matter, Monk? Oh, look. My little mama said no dice. Huh? Hey, he's dead. What happened to her?
Something bad she's looked. Look how he's stretched out. Who would want to kill a little fella, huh? Who'd do a thing like that? What's it got to hurt in a poor little thing? Yes, maybe it is. Yes, it is? Yes, take a look. What do you think? Oh, the little mama said. Well, what happened to him? What would do like that to him? Wait a minute.
Oh, this is awful. I say it is. No, you don't understand. What's wrong? Well, I saw this animal drinking the water I poured out for Mr. Devine. Yes? Yeah, there were two sleeping capsules. Now there's only one. And Mr. Devine says he didn't take any while I was out of the room. You think no, that's got one. He must have.
They were bright red, just the thing that would attract him. What kind of sleeping powders were these? They must have been made up by mistake with the wrong ingredients. Well, that's a nice thing. Oh, you still don't understand. There were three capsules. What? I gave one to the district attorney's secretary, Miss Miller. What? She took it home with her an hour and a half ago. Oh.
This is her door, Chief. Yes, yes, I know. Listen, the radio's on. I'll break this door down. Oh, no, try a path to you first. Maybe quicker. Right. Come on, come on. There she is, Chief. Stretch out the armchair with the radio grinding. Turn it off. Chief, look at this kid. She's out like a light. Smell her. Chief!
Chief, this cat... Miller, Miss Miller. Oh, hello. Oh, please, please, Miss Miller, answer me. Did you take that capsule? What on earth? What capsule? The one you got from Divine's nurse. Oh, that. Yeah. No. What? Well, it turned out I didn't need anything to make me sleep. Oh. I turned on that night owl radio program and dozed right off in this armchair listening to it. Oh. Oh.
Say, what's gotten into you? Do you still have that capsule? Yes, what's wrong? That sleeping medicine is deadly poison intended to kill Vanny Devine. What? No, wait a minute, don't say it. No, no, I won't say it, but why did that nurse give it to me for? She didn't know, of course. Now, take it easy, Miss Miller. Yes, yes. Now, Harrington, back to Vanny Devine. They'll try to get him some other way. Oh!
Uh, come in here, Carson. Okay. Sit, uh, sit down right by the bed here. All right.
You heard about the low dives, didn't you? Yeah. That's what I want to talk about. Well, I don't. Now, look here. That monkey got a hold of some stuff that was meant for me. That's right. And if it hadn't been for him, you'd... I'd have turned up my toes the same way. Oh, ain't you got anything to say? I got plenty to say. All to you, you double-crosser. What is this? I don't make you. You get me, all right.
Who planted that poison? Well, I don't know. Not the nurse. I've never seen her before. Yeah, but... Not the doc. Where would his practice be if he handed out a dose like that? Something's got into you, Benny. Relax, relax. Not with you around. You were the guy that planted that stuff to kill me. You. The one guy I thought I could trust. But you can trust me, Benny. I never tried to kill you. You got me wrong. What? Now, wait. Who hired you to shove that poison into my medicine?
It was Kane, wasn't it? You got no call to lay me out like this. Kane couldn't hire me to hurt you, Vanny. I don't believe you. They're a crook, and in the long run, a crook will turn on you. Oh, that's great. You're the one to talk, ain't you? Never mind about me. I can take care of myself before it's your turn. Then you better start doing it. After a deal like this, nobody blame me if I did go to work for Kane. Oh...
So it's out in the open now. Yeah, you're bound to be wrong about me. Nothing else will do. Yeah, that's gratitude. So long, big shot. Now, wait a minute. Huh? What now? Don't you want to shake before you go? What for? Well, it's just from now on, I've got to go at single duke. Or myself. Might as well make a clean break here. We're going to split. Let's split even.
Run over and shake hands. Dad. Hey, let go of my hand. I'm not spawning you, Chipper. What have you got there? Benny, be careful. Tonight. Benny. I'm out of my pedal. Benny, don't. Let's fix you. All right, we get out of here. Jane will be waiting to hear from this bum.
Hello, Vanny. Kane. Come on in, Doc. Sure. Doc. Doc, this guy, where is this guy? Here's Bullock Kane. Sure he is. Yeah, but what's he doing here? How'd he get in here? Tell him, Doc. The cops downstairs think he's my colleague. And I told your nurse to go. Now, listen. Listen, Pellett. I'll be reasonable. I'll take you, all right? Thanks. Hey, look here. What? This little monk got it. Huh? Somebody ruined him with a knife. Oh, no.
That gives me a good idea. You shouldn't have sent him there, Bullock. Me? I didn't have anything to do with Garson. He was your boy. And a lot of good he did him. This was a dumb play, Vanny. You killed the one guy in the world that was loyal to you. I thought he was your boy. Doc, give me that pillow. Here you are. There's two of us to one. That's good, Johnny. Keep him from yelling. Yeah, I got you. Now listen, Vanny. Yeah.
I see you got a knife there. Now, you got your choice. The doc here will operate on you, or you can drink one of them capsules he made up. Which will it be? Take the pillow off. Yeah, right. I'll take the capsule. All right. Give him room. Now, Vanny, we're going to let you drink this stuff and take you out nice and easy. But one holler and you get carved, understand? Yeah. Pour the water, Johnny. All right. All right.
All right, drink it, Granny. Give me it. Here it is. Phew!
He threw the water in my face. Grab him. Back on the bed, Bernie. All right. You wouldn't be nice. So we won't be nice either. Give me that knife. Hold his arm, Johnny. Hey, what's going on here? Put that knife down. Listen, I'm not dead. Hey, you hurt me or do I have to shoot you? Chief, come in there quick. I see. Back against the wall, both you men. Devine, stay where you are. Broke.
Brophy, send for a squad car. We're taking these three to headquarters. Come on.
The names of all characters in tonight's dramatization are fictitious and any resemblance to names of living persons or actual places is purely coincidental. Our stars were Jay Justin in the title role, Len Doylis Harrington and Vicki Vola as Miss Miller, with music by Charles Paul. The program was produced and directed by Edward A. Byron and written by Robert J. Shaw.
Mr. District Attorney was originated by Phillips H. Lord. And remember, Sal Hepatica for the smile of health, Vitalis for well-groomed hair. Sal Hepatica, Vitalis. Fred Utell speaking for Bristol Myers. We invite you to tune in again next week for Mr. District Attorney!
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Your card, Mr. Thompson. The King of Hearts. Colonel Moore. The Five of Clubs, Mr. President. Count Rizzini. Come, Count, we are waiting. What is your card? Blasso di Spada. I beg your pardon? The Ace of Death. The Ace of Death.
Midnight, the witching hour when the night is darkest, our fears the strongest, and our strength at its lowest ebb. Midnight, when the graves gape open and death strikes. How? You'll learn the answer in just a minute in The Ace of Death.
And now, Murder at Midnight, Tales of Mystery and Terror by Radio's Masters of the Macabre.
Our story, based on Robert Louis Stevenson's immortal suicide club, is by Max Ehrlich. It's titled, The Ace of Death. I stood there on the bridge and stared down into the swirling fog. It hid the river like a white shroud. I shivered.
It'd be cold down there, freezing cold. I would go down, down, deep into the black watery depths, my ears bursting and my lungs fighting for breath. And then, finally, there would be silence. Silence and eternal peace. Somewhere, a clock began to chime eleven. The last hour. The last hour of a man's life. My life. I, John Evans, ill and broke without family or friends...
Sick and weary of the constant struggle among earthbound mortals, looked forward to my new future. Death. I put one foot over the bridge rail. My heart pounded. My head throbbed. And then someone came out of the mist and seized me from behind. No, you fool. Don't do it. Not this way. Let me go. Let me go while I still got the courage. Don't you hear what I've got to say? Why did you stop me?
Why? I wanted to die. I wanted to. I sympathize with you, young man. You see, I too am tired of life and seek death. You? You want to die? Yes, but not by drowning. No, my boy, I've made other arrangements. The river is not only a dull way to die, it's positively sordid. The very idea makes me shudder with distaste. Wait, I don't understand. It's very simple, young man.
Most of us are too commonplace about the hereafter. We enter it with morbid fear and without imagination. Actually, death can be glorious. Glorious? Yes, a great new change from our ordinary lifetime routine. A journey into an uncharted world. A man should meet death on the wings of adventure. It should be an exciting and delightful experience. Death? Exciting and delightful? Why not?
I've already arranged my decease along these lines. And since you and I have an interest in common, why not join me? We'll seek death's private door together. Come, young man.
Come along with me. Where? To my club. I'll be glad to recommend you for membership. Your club? Yes. It caters to a clientele of gentlemen like ourselves. We call it the Hereafter Club. The whole thing was mad, insane, and yet...
Yet it was intriguing, too. I looked hard at the elderly gentleman who'd come out of the fog to pull me from the brink of death, only to offer me a pleasanter and more delightful variety later. He repeated his invitation to join him, and I could see that he was perfectly sincere. I decided to go with him, even though I secretly considered him some kind of a madman. After all, what could I lose now? ♪
We took a cab and stopped at a grim-looking building in the Silk Stocking District on the east side. My elderly friend, whom I now knew as Frederick Whitney, took me into a luxurious reception room and asked me to wait there until he saw the president of the club. Finally, the president himself came out to greet me. He was a man of about 50 with a bald spot on his head.
piercing gray eyes and a thin mouth, he smiled and extended his hand to me. Welcome to the Hereafter Club, Mr. Evans. Thank you, Mr. President. Mr. Whitney has recommended you very highly, and I'm delighted to count you among our members. I am pretty vague as to what all this is about, but Mr. Whitney mentioned something about a $400 initiation fee, and
Well, I'm afraid I... Tut, tut, tut, my boy. Mr. Whitney knew you were in delicate financial straits and took your initiation fee upon himself. Oh. You were fortunate indeed, Mr. Evans, that he happened along and rescued you from the river. Such a morbid way of entering the hereafter would have been tragic indeed. Isn't death in any form tragic? By no means, Mr. Evans. Death can be a triumph, a fine, heady wine, when so designed by a connoisseur.
Come, Mr. Evans, follow me. You are about to embark on an exciting and unforgettable experience. Like a man in a dream, I followed the president into a large room...
There was a green baize table in the center of it, and several men in evening dress lounged around the room drinking champagne. They seemed nervous and distraught, and when they laughed, it was high-pitched and too loud. They seemed to be waiting for something to happen, some event to begin. As the president and I stood at the door, he turned to me and smiled.
These men, Mr. Evans, are charter members of the Hereafter Club. They come from all walks of life, but they have one common desire, death. I see. Death.
And what happens now? Our procedure is very simple. We all play a game of cards. A game of cards? A simple but fascinating game of cards. That is, these gentlemen play. As president of the Hereafter Club, I am the dealer. And what is the game? Each man draws a card and turns it face up.
The man who is fortunate enough to draw the ace of spades dies. For this is the card of death. And how does he die? By the hand of the man who draws the ace of clubs. Oh, I see. The ace of clubs eliminates the ace of spades. Precisely. I...
How many of these games do you play a night? Just one. But as you can see, Mr. Evans, during its course, a man can live a lifetime of adventure. For this makes of death an exciting game of chance, a game to whip the blood and make the pulses race. You see, one never knows whether he will draw the fatal ace of spades tonight...
or whether he will survive for weeks or even months. A question, Mr. President. Yes? How much of this can a man stand? I can only answer in this way, Mr. Evans. Our members always come back to the Hereafter Club night after night until they draw the ace of spades. Once a devotee of the game, it's impossible to resist. Now, but come...
We're ready to begin. In a kind of hypnotic trance, I followed the president into the room. When the members saw him, their conversation stopped suddenly. They put down their champagne glasses, straightened. Their faces grew pale and tense. Their eyes, brilliant with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
the president took a fresh pack of cards from his pocket, and like a magnet attracting iron filings, the men drew close to the base cover table. I found myself standing next to Frederick Whitney as the president spoke. Gentlemen of the Hereafter Club, the game is about to begin.
Someone here tonight will draw the ace of spades. Whoever he is, let me assure him that we will arrange his death so that it will appear to be an accident with no breath of scandal and with no unnecessary anguish to his family. We all know that life is only a stage to play the fool upon, as long as the part amuses us. Now we are wearied of our daily performance and have chosen a civilized and exciting way to quit that stage. Gentlemen...
The deal.
It was a fantastic, weird, monstrous experience. The green baize table, the president puffing on his cigar and dealing a card to each man face down, each man his face like a graven image turning his card up. I could feel the sweat pouring down my forehead. My heart pounded like a hammer, and next to me, Frederick Whitney stood rigid, his eyes shining as the president's voice droned on. Mr. Thompson?
Your card. Three of diamonds. Colonel Moore. Six of hearts. Mr. Denison. It's the jack of spades. Count Rizzini. The eight of clubs. Mr. Evans. Our new member. The queen of hearts. Mr. Whitney. Mr. Whitney, what is your card? The...
The ace of clubs. Well, Mr. Whitney, congratulations. You shall be the official agent for tonight. Now let us see whom you will guide into the hereafter. Here we are.
Frederick Whitney left the game and went directly into President's private office. There was only one card to be drawn now, the Ace of Death. The tension was almost unbearable. I felt like running away from that table, screaming at the top of my voice, but I didn't. I only stood there, riveted, staring at those cards, listening to the President's hypnotic voice. Mr. Benedict. The tray of spades. Mr. Wallace. Yes?
Nine of diamonds. Mr. Thompson, the king of hearts. Colonel Moore, your card. The five of clubs. Count Rizzini. Count Rizzini, we are waiting. What is your card? La sodispada. I beg your pardon? Ace of death. I stumbled from that horrible place into the cold night air. I went directly to my room, shaken to the core at what I had seen.
In the cold, gray light of the morning, it took on the aspect of a bad dream, a macabre nightmare. I resolved to shrug it off, forget the whole thing. But when I bought a newspaper, the headline struck me like the blow of a hammer. Quickly, my heart beating wildly, I read the lead paragraph. Count Pietro Rizzini, prominent Italian nobleman, was hit.
and instantly killed at midnight when he stepped off the curb into the path of a speeding taxi cab. The Count, who had recently lost his fortune, was with a friend, Mr. Frederick Whitney, when the unfortunate accident occurred. And so, in the darkness of the night, a man who has played a grim game and lost goes to his death as the clock strikes twelve for... Murder! Murder!
At midnight. At now, here is John Evans again to continue his story. Yes, the Hereafter Club was really a murder club. A racket conceived and created by the polished gentleman who called himself the President.
He made a game of death and grew rich on it. For each night, although he lost a member, he made $400, the member's initiation fee. And as the members dropped out, according to Hoyle, there were always plenty of disillusioned neophytes like myself ready to replace them. My first impulse after reading that grisly newspaper announcement was to run to the police. But I had pledged my word to secrecy. And besides, besides, I wanted to go back.
I had to go back. The thrill of the game was in my blood. I fought to resist it, but it was like a hypnotic drug. Time after time, I went back to the Green Bay's table and then one night... Your card, Mr. Whitney? Come, sir. What is your card?
The Ace of Spades. Now, my friend, Frederick Whitney, the man who'd introduced me into the Hereafter Club, had drawn the Ace of Death. His string had run out. He was through. I stared at him. He was calm. And there was a half smile on his face. He seemed almost glad that for him the game was over. The president kept on dealing. Mr. Thompson, your card? The Jack of Hearts.
Colonel Moore. The fool of speech. Mr. Denison. The ace of diamonds. Mr. Benedict. Ten of clubs. Mr. Evans. They were waiting for me. Come, come, Mr. Evans. Your card. The ace of clubs. Congratulations, Mr. Evans. Only your sixth evening at our club and you draw a winning card.
Now, if you'll join Mr. Whitney and myself in my private office, we'll arrange the details. The instructions were simple. I was to drive Mr. Whitney into the garage of his home, leave him in the car with the motor running. That was all. And so, without a word, I got behind the wheel and drove my elderly benefactor to the appointed place.
We looked at each other there in the garage, and then he said... John, if anyone had to draw the ace of clubs, I'm glad it was you. No, Mr. Whitney, look here. I don't want to kill you. You know I don't. Let's end this farce. Let's go to the police and end this monstrous thing. No, John. You forget I'm a murderer. I have already killed...
I'd rather die by carbon monoxide gas in this comparatively painless way than in the electric chair. But the police will never know that you were responsible for Razzini's death. If we expose the Hereafter Club, the president would be sure to tell them. There must be a way somehow. No, my boy. I have chosen death. My time has come. In a way, I'm glad everything is resolved. There is no more waiting, waiting for the fatal card. It's over now.
Cole, go, my boy. Leave the garage. Slam the door. No, no, Mr. Whitney. For God's sake, turn off the motor before... Go. Go down before it's too late. Hurry. Don't worry about me. I have sought death for weeks. Now I welcome it. Meet it gladly. I staggered to the garage door, went out and slammed it shut. I heard the motor still going. Five minutes. Ten minutes. I knew...
that it was the end now for Frederick Whitney. I looked at my luminescent watch. It was just midnight. I walked the streets for hours after that. Now I was a murderer. True, I had killed with my victim's consent, but I had killed. Now, as the dawn came, I began to shake with a cold rage against the connoisseur of death who called himself the President. Men killed, men died, and he profited without risk.
He always dealt the game and never participated. He was a prince of ruin. And unfortunate men like myself could not resist what he had to offer. And so, like a smiling Satan in formal clothes exerting a demoniac spell upon the fools who played his game, he watched them destroy each other.
That night I went to the Hereafter Club and just before the game confronted him. Ah, good evening, Mr. Evans. I see you are back again tonight. Yes, Mr. President, I'm back again. And I want to congratulate you. Indeed? On what? On your financial vision in starting this club. By simple mathematics, it nets you a handsome profit. We play five evenings a week, and each evening you make $400. $400?
That, Mr. President, adds up to $2,000 a week. Yes, it's a tidy sum, Mr. Evans, to be sure. But to tell you the truth, tonight we play our last game. Our last game? Yes, to be frank with you, Mr. Evans, the sport of the game is beginning to pall on me. I've decided to retire to the country and pursue the delights of horticulture. Flowers are my hobby, you know. Oh, I see.
Even you can tire of sending men to their deaths. And just what do you mean by that, Mr. Evans? I mean that you are a coward, Mr. President. You have created a monstrous game, and yet you haven't the courage to play it yourself. You question my courage then, Mr. Evans. I do, and I question your honor, too. It seems to me that if you profit by your clients, you should take the same risk they do. You are a very impertinent young man, but I cannot let your accusations go without rebuttal.
Indeed, it might be an interesting experience to play this last game myself. A kind of fitting climax to a successful career. Of course, Mr. Evans, I'll demand a handsome apology when it's over. You don't mean that you are actually going to take a chance? Yes, why not? I've often been intrigued by the excitement of my clients. Now, I might as well savor that excitement myself.
before I close the Hereafter Club. The news that the president was going to play created a sensation among the members. He dealt a round, and then another. And the third time around, for the second night in a row, I drew the murder card.
The ace of clubs. The President smiled his congratulations at what he called my phenomenal luck and continued. Mr. Thompson, your card. The two spades. Colonel Moore. The King of Hearts. Mr. Dennison. The Seven of Clubs. Mr. Benedict. Queen of Dimes. And now, gentlemen, I'll turn over my own card. Congratulations, Mr. President.
You have drawn the ace of spades. The president's face was immobile. Not an eyelash flickered. We went into his private office and his words were calm as he explained the evening's arrangements. I had drawn the murder card and he had drawn the death card. Yet, judging by his unworried attitude and serene bearing, it might have been the other way around. I couldn't help a flicker of admiration for him.
As for me, I was eager to do my part. To kill this man who had been caught at the last moment in his own net. He had sent many a man to his death. And now he had to meet it himself. There is a railroad bridge on the outskirts of town, Mr. Evans. It has a low railing and below it an express train passes exactly at midnight. You will push me over that rail into the path of the locomotive. And now, if you're ready, let us go.
We didn't speak on the trip out to the bridge. It was a cold night. We stood there, shivering and waiting. Finally, in the distance, that was it. The midnight train. I could see its bright headlight flickering as it approached. Then the president spoke. Mr. Evans, of course we are not going through with this.
Of course we are, Mr. President. Look here, my dear boy. As you know, the Hereafter Club is disbanded. Unlike my clients, I have no desire to die. There's no point in doing so. You are going to die, Mr. President, just as you have sent others. I'll see to it myself. Be reasonable, Mr. Evans. I have everything to live for, and so can you have. Now then, I'm a very wealthy man, and I'm quite sure you could use, say, $10,000...
Get close to that rail, Mr. President. I suggest you listen to reason, Mr. Evans. The others died without a whimper. You sent them into the hereafter, and now you're going yourself as you deserve. You're a very stubborn young man, Mr. Evans. No, drop that gun! Don't! Try to kill me, will you? You got me in the arm, that's all, and now you're going over that rail! Don't! Don't! I'll give you anything! Anything! Over you! Don't! Don't!
When the train had passed, I saw what was left of his body on the tracks. Slowly, with dragging footsteps, I walked down the street toward the twin green lights of the police station. Now, like the others, I'm ready for the end.
The doors of the police station open and close on the man who trumped the ace of death. The man who now seeks his own dark destiny as the clocks strike twelve for... Midnight!
Remember to be with us again when death deals his final hand and the clock strikes twelve for... Murder! Midnight!
The part of John Evans was played by Carl Swenson. The president of the Hereafter Club was John Griggs. With music by Bert Berman, Murder at Midnight was directed by Anton M. Leder.
So
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Here in the grim stone structure on the fence which houses Scotland Yard is a warehouse of homicide. Where everyday objects, a milk bottle, a woman's hand, a bit of flypaper, all are touched by murder. Here's a doctor's prescription. It's a familiar object. You don't think twice about it. You have a cold, sore throat. The doctor comes, gives you a prescription piece of paper with symbols scrawled on it. Here you are, the nurse.
I've used a different combine this time. Number 1778 in place of 2032. This has run stronger than what you've seen, I think. Yes, there's a bit more of the mafia in this prescription. Well, today that same piece of paper, that prescription...
He's in the Black Museum. Well, here we are in the Black Museum, Scotland Yard's museum of murder.
These objects all around represent the final distillation of that most final act of all, the taking of a human life by another human being. Here lies death. In Syria, the order ranks the things of which death is made, I hear. Quiescent now, but once so vile, so unavoidable, so inevitably complete. It's a stiletto, a thing of coral beauty, with jewels scattered.
No blood sullied this stiletto blade ever, but this was the arrow of a pointing finger which led to death by the hangman's rope. Here's the prescription. Scrawled almost only intelligently. The traditional corkscrew of a doctor's penmanship and marked in the chemist's writing, filled. Ironic, but true. Almost as ironic as the beginning of the story, because the beginning is an errand of affection and kindly care. You see, John Begley was a nephew and cousin
who did his best for his family and so if you don't mind miss smith i want to be certain that my aunt she's well past 80 you see and my cousin will have the best of care i understand perfectly mr begley i've been taking care of patients in my house now for almost five years
I can show you letters of reference, but I prefer it to be inspected by heart first. To May Smith, a routine call. A routine inspection. To John Begley, a matter of some importance, but apparently Mr. Begley was quite satisfied with what he saw. I must say, Miss Smith, you do well by your patience. I'm a nurse, sir, and I've dedicated myself to the proper care of the sick. You ought to be congratulated. May I ask what the charges will be? Your aunt is, I take it, a hopeless unbeliever. And has been for a good many years.
My cousin June has a progressive nervous disorder. Sometimes she's quite completely paralyzed. Then she has remissions. Oh, I see.
Would it be multiple sclerosis? I think that's the name of it. In any case, she can care for her own needs to a great extent, except when she has these seizures. Would 15 pounds per week for each of them be within their means? With board and so on included. Oh, yes, they have means. You see, my uncle, by marriage, that is, Mr. Dawson, he left them a comfortable income. No problems there.
Everything perfectly respectable and not a thought of trouble in the mind of anyone concerned. Martha Dawson, as her daughter June, came to stay in the care of Nurse Maystead. Not a registered nursing home, you understand, but a nice place and a competent nurse in charge of the good doctor on call. All of which was borne out the afternoon some months later when John came to visit his aunt and his cousin. Maystead.
So considerate. Oh, it's May already, is it? Oh, why not, John? She's as good to me as June would be if she were able. I wish I were able, Mother. But you're not, poor dear. And May is a fine substitute. One of the family, eh? Yes, John. John? Yes, my dear? I'm not getting any younger. Here, now, none of that kind of talk. I mean it. I'm getting on. Fifty-five is well into middle age.
I've been thinking about my will, John. As your next of kin, I think you ought to discuss it with me. I'm serious, John. Listen to her, John. In all probability, I shall go first. June will have everything her father left. All right, Aunt Martha. Go ahead, June. Well, I've been watching May, you see.
She has practically nothing of her own, except this house and the rather precarious income from her patients. I've... well, I've been thinking of making her a partial heir. But since you're the main one, John, I thought I'd ask you first. I'm doing all right, dear. No worry on that score. Only take my advice. Be sure before you leap. Money is a strange thing, you know. June, listen to her, Cousin John.
But what she thought she was advising, well, that was something else again. Nay,
I'd like to talk with you. Of course, my dear. Go right ahead. I'm... I'm making my will over again. Now, that's fine talk. You and the will. Whatever for? To make you my principal heir. Sure. Really. You mustn't do anything of the kind. I'm sure your nice cousin won't like it a bit. Oh, I've discussed it with him. He doesn't mind in the least. In any case, people with their lives ahead of them mustn't think about dying.
Then it's high time I began to think about it. June, dear, let me tell you something. You're going to live so long and pay me 15 pounds a week for so many years that you won't have anything to leave anybody. That's not so. My income will take care of me as long as I live. And John certainly doesn't need the principal.
You will. You see, Mary, I know about the real nursing home you've always wanted. And the cottages and house that are the basis of what father left mother and me will be just perfect for you when the time comes. You stop this kind of talk, June Dawson. That's nurse's orders. I don't want to hear it. I simply refuse to listen to you. A word can be like a stone in a pool of water that splashed the first ripple.
And then wider and wider go the circles. The stone disappears, but it's there, lying at the bottom of the pool, even when the surface has become still again.
This box of candy. Johnny sent it. Will you have some? Thank you, Mother. Now, what shall I have? Mugha or cream? You've had three already. You know sweets aren't really good for you. June is right, Aunt Martha. Now, you let me have that box. I'm going to save you from temptation and keep the box in my office.
And you may have a piece after dinner and one after luncheon each day. The way you boss me. You'd think you were twice my age instead of the other way round. You're a good person, May. You really are. Am I? Just because I do my job? Yes, the care was good. The three women obviously were very fond of each other. But did you notice the phrase, save you from temptation?
Would a psychologist call that a Freudian slip of some kind? I wonder now. And who was saving whom and from what? Certainly Dr. Lewin, the attending physician, thought merely that people were being saved from pain and with conscientious care. I've been in to see Mrs. Dawson, nurse. I'm glad. How do you find her, doctor? She is failing rapidly.
Oh, it's too bad. She's a splendid old lady, despite her bad physical condition. Does June... Does Miss Dawson realize her mother's condition? I'm sure she does. She's a brave woman. And a self-sacrificing daughter, if ever I saw one. No question about that. Well, it must come to all of us one day. Death, I mean. Now then, have you the final reports on the terminal care for Mrs. Wrightson? Yes, sir. Right here in the file. And for Mrs. Richter. Thank you, Nuffs.
You know, you really ought to qualify as a proper nursing home. You know your business, Miss Smith. Thank you, Doctor.
Pro-regulation is strict and expensive to fulfill. Now, on these two cases, Doctor, you prescribe morphia towards the end, remember? And you let me have a supply. I keep the dangerous drugs in here. I have some of the tablets left. I'd like some external, if I may. Very well. Dangerous drug, morphia. Just as well not to have it around, even under lock and key. A dangerous drug. Tempting.
But there's another drug, or so it may be called at times, a temptation certainly. It seems to have the power to dull the perceptions and the consciences of people, much as morphia does at a time. This drug is money. There it is.
My will... ...remade. Johnson... ...will you sign here, please? Yes, ma'am. The papers were signed, put away. A will, an inheritance, a gesture... ...from a grateful woman to a friend in need. That was all. An incident over. Closed. With a period put to it... ...as the pen stopped its scratching... ...as in a few weeks... ...a heart stopped beating...
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At least she died without pain. In her sleep, Doctor. Around midnight. How is Miss Dawson taking it? Quite well. Would you like to see her? Perhaps I'd better. Her sedative may be indicated. She's in her room. This way. Can I expect any reaction in June's own trouble? A disease of the nervous system like hers? There may be some trouble now. Even when she's taking this blow so well. I know. Hurry, Arthur. Come in.
Ah, Miss Dawson. May I express my sympathy? Thank you, Doctor. Mother suffered enough in this world. I pray she has peace in the next. I trust she will. Miss Smith is worried about you now. I... I do feel a bit upset. I...
I hope I'm not going to have any after effects. Have you noticed any signs? My legs feel so heavy. That's usually a sign. And my fingertips on my right hand, they seem to have lost the sense of touch. Well, you just let me prescribe a sedative, my dear. With some sleep, you'll be fine.
Even when we expect something like this, it's still a shock. There we are, nurse. Thank you, doctor. Now you lie down, June. As doctor says, even when you expect something, it's still a shock. Yes, a shock indeed. Perhaps not unconnected to the piece of paper. A prescription which can be seen today.
In the Black New Zealand. The words they use are polite. Terminal care. They carry many connotations. An end to pain. An easing off from weary illness. A quiet kind of death.
However, they do not mean a helping hand to death. Doctor, poor Miss Dawson doesn't seem to be getting much relief from the sedative he gave her. I'm afraid the funeral and all the details have been too much for her. I've been expecting that. She's worse, then. Yes. Her right side is paralyzed.
Doctor, June's become more than a patient. I... I don't want to lose her, too. I understand, Miss Smith. Now, don't worry about that. Chances are Miss Dawson will live for quite a few years yet. Now, in the meantime... Ah, here you are now, sir.
I've used a different compound this time. Number 1778 in place of 2032. Is this one stronger than what she's been getting? Yes, there's a bit more of the morphia in this prescription. Yes, let us ease the pain and relieve the suffering. This is a great career to comfort and aid the sick. One does many things to help the suffering.
Dr. Lewin, Miss Dawson has asked a peculiar question. I don't like it. What is it? She wants to know how one can be collated. Oh, she's thinking about that, is she? Well, she... well, she hates her body. I think she wants to feel it will be completely destroyed as soon as she is gone. Now, can't you get her mind off this? Well, I try. I've been spending as much time as I can with her. But she keeps coming back to that same question.
I'll have to satisfy her, I'm afraid. Well, you tell her she can put the direction in her will if she has one, or she can leave a letter properly witnessed, ordering disposal by cremation. Then, when she dies, whoever is left behind applies to the registrar of deaths for permission. The rest will be taken care of by a licensed mortician. Oh, no.
What thoughts on such a pleasant day? She seems so terribly depressed. What can I do, Doctor? Just do your best to keep her minded. June Dawson, depressed, half paralyzed, and facing several years of a kind of half-life. Not pleasant. No, definitely. Cousin John Begley was very upset about it. I don't like it, Miss Smith. June shows no improvement at all. I'm upset by it as much as anyone. Yes, I suppose you are.
What do you mean by that, Mr. Begley, if I may ask? If she dies, no more 15 pounds per week for you. I resent that, Mr. Begley. Yes, I suppose you should. Particularly since my cousin made that new will. Do you know its contents? She hasn't disclosed them to me, but I can guess. Do you know them?
I can't say I do. Hmm. Wise of my cousin to keep her will a secret. Particularly since her estate will be worth at least 4,000 pounds, if not more. A large amount of money and a small lie. Interesting combination. Of course, one can hardly blame this. It's not Cousin John's business what's in that will if June doesn't care to tell him. In any case, other events in band which will have a bearing on the matter. Hmm. Hmm.
Oh, it happened so quickly. Almost as if she'd wished herself to death. Why didn't you call me? It was one in the morning. She seemed to be sleeping, except her breathing was peculiar. I tried to rouse her and she answered me. I left her to 15 Johnson, who was on the night desk this week, called me.
She'd run for help and I rushed in. She still had the cord in her hand. And she was dead. Well, it happens that way. Something gives up. This was a cerebral hemorrhage, as far as I can judge, without an autopsy. I'll say it's so on the death step. There you are, Doctor. Oh, I feel so ineffectual at the moment. You see, she was more than a patient.
She was my friend. I understand. Now, you'll be all right in a day or so after the entitlement. Oh. Oh, Doctor. She... she wrote a letter. Insisted on it. After I told her what you said. What I said? About the commission. Oh, that. Oh, yes, I remember. Yes, very well.
You'll need the form request if you like. I'll send one over. Now, you can make it out, attach the letter and take it to the registrar. He happens to be the health officer in Nottingham as well. Thank you. Now then, I'll make out the certificate. No problems. Just the grief over a lost friend. Make out the papers.
Call in Johnson, the faithful servant. Johnson? Yes, miss? I have an errand for you. Dr. Lewin sent this form over. It's all filled out. I want you to take it to the health officer. You know where, don't you? Yes, of course, miss. And be sure you fire this letter with it. Now, you remember witnessing Miss Dawson's signature on this letter, don't you? Oh, yes, of course I do. Johnson did as he was told. It was his job, no question asked.
However, the registrar at the health office did have a question or two. You work at this place for this Smith woman, do you? Yes, sir, I do. The form here says nursing home. Is that what it is? I suppose so, sir. Well, don't you know? There's only a few patients, and it's Smith's own house. Oh, one of those, I see. I thought there was no registered nursing home at that address. I happen to be in charge of those records myself.
She never called it a nursing home before, sir. She always wants one, of course. Talks about it a lot. Says it costs a lot of money. Yes, it does. Will it be all right for me to tell her to go ahead with things now, sir? No, no, not just yet. I want to get confirmation of this commission request from a relative, too, if possible. I imagine the family will claim the body. Tell your employer we'll be in touch with her. Strange, isn't it? An ambition, a desire so near fulfillment.
And Nurse Smith fills out an official form as if the ambition had already been fulfilled. Two words, and wheels begin to turn. Nurse Smith has an unexpected caller. You wanted to see me, sir? Yes. My name is Liggett, Inspector Liggett, Scotland Yard. Sit down, please, Inspector. Thank you. What can I do for you, Inspector? Did you know there's been a post-mortem on Miss June Dawson? No, I didn't.
Who gave permission? Next of kin, John Begley. Oh. You know him? He's been a visitor here. I see. The death certificate said cerebral hemorrhage. Dr. Lewin told me. Would you tell me the type of medication you gave the patient? I have the record book right here.
Yes, here it is. Patient in pain in afternoon. Gave two tablets prescribed by Dr. Lewin. 4 p.m. And here's the 8 p.m. entry. Usual dosage of sedatives. What was in those tablets? Morphine. Dr. Lewin left them with me. Two on September the 5th. Four more on September the 12th.
You'll find the entries in my drug book. And in the sedative? There was morphine in that, too. Dr. Lewin had prescribed an additional dose. It increased the compound. You seem to have all the facts. I keep careful records. But nevertheless, Miss Dawson died quite unexpectedly of a stroke. So the doctor certified. That is not in my property. No. And the doctor made up a certificate without an autopsy. He's quite a competent physician. No doubt. But the fact remains that Miss Dawson did not die of a stroke, Miss Smith.
No. May I ask? She died of an overdose of morphia. Quite a large overdose. That's why I'm afraid we shall have to take you in charge until further investigations have either cleared you or brought you to trial either for manslaughter or homicide. When death masquerades as mercy, when murder hides behind friendship...
There's little sympathy to be accused. In this case, where one required to heal stood accused of killing and was only anger. Nonetheless, justice was well ordered and the evidence was made quite clear. First, the motive.
Mr. Begley, what do you know of the occasion of your cousin's drawing up a new will in favor of the prisoner? My cousin discussed it with me. What did she tell you? That she felt so grateful to Miss Smith that she wanted to leave her entire estate to this woman. What is the amount of the estate? Ah...
To the best of your knowledge, did the prisoner know the size of the bequest? I told her myself. On what occasion? When I asked if she knew the contents of my cousin's will. What did she say to them? That she did not know. At a subsequent visit with my cousin, I learned that she did know. In fact, her own assistant or helper witnessed the document. Thank you very much, sir. And finally, opportunity and access to the drug.
Dr. Lewin, a tragic though innocent figure in the case, was the witness. Doctor, it has been alleged that you gave the prisoner two tablets of morphine for the deceased on the 5th of September and four more on the 12th. Is this true? It is not. I never prescribed morphine in that form for this patient. Did you prescribe it in any other form? In a sedative, yes. I must confess a slight error, however. The patient had been receiving compound 1778.
I later prescribed compound 2032, thinking at the moment that it contained more of the drug than 1778. Later, I discovered it contained less. However, as it seemed to be equally easing to the patient, I did not correct the situation. Were you urged to add to the morphia? I was, but I missed it.
Have you any idea whether the prisoner may have acquired the drug which was used? During the past year, I have given her small quantities of the drug for use at her discretion. But never more than eight tablets at a time. She has returned a few from time to time. On checking my records, I find I have given her almost a hundred tablets. Is this normal? In the situation where terminal care is the norm, yes.
However, it is perfectly possible that some of the unused tablets were not returned to me. Now, returning to your prescription, Doctor, do you remember the occasion of your writing it, and why? I do. It was just after the patient's mother died while under Miss Smith's care. Miss Smith was most anxious for a stronger sedative for the patient, and inquired specifically concerning its comparative strength after I wrote the prescription.
She also inquired of me concerning cremation. The crown rested its case. The sentence was death by hanging. Well, today that same piece of paper, that description, is in the Black Museum. Orson Welles will be back with you in just a moment. And now, until next time, till we meet again in the same place.
When I tell you another story of the Black Museum, I remain as always, obediently yours.
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Mutual presents The Mysterious Traveler. This is The Mysterious Traveler, inviting you to join me on another journey into the realm of the strange and the terrifying. I hope that you enjoy the trip, that it thrills you a little and chills you a little. So settle back, get a good grip on your nerves and be comfortable. If you can...
Tonight we're going to join Bill Storm, a newspaper reporter, on the strangest manhunt ever conducted. Or should I say womanhunt, as he searches frantically through a great city for the most dangerous and deadly woman you've ever imagined. In a story I call... The Woman in Black. The Woman in Black
And now here is the story as Bill Storm himself wrote it down. When he began to be afraid that maybe he was going to succeed in his hunt for the woman in black.
My name is Bill Storm. I'm a newspaper reporter. And I'm writing this because I have a date tonight. A date with a gorgeous brunette with big dark eyes and the smoothest, softest voice in the world. Sounds nice, doesn't it? Well, I'd like to believe she's nice, but I can't.
In my heart, I know she's the most dangerous woman in the world. Up to a week ago, I'd never even heard of her. A week ago. The day of Rusty Dean's funeral. You know, the big shot gambling slot machines. Killed by a solitary gunman while stepping out of his nightclub. They didn't catch the killer, but they gave Rusty the biggest funeral since Prohibition. I was on the read-write desk that afternoon. My best friend, Tom Jervis, was covering the funeral. And along about four, he phoned in.
First he gave me all the dope on the funeral, and then he started telling me about some brunette he'd just met. He was always a sucker for brunettes.
Well, she's a knockout. Big black eyes and the smoothest, softest voice in the world. I want you to meet her. Oh, blonde's more my style, Tom. Anyway, you're supposed to be working. Or have you forgotten? I am working. Listen, Bill, I've got a front page story here. Theda led me to it. Who did? Theda, that's her. D-H-E-D-A, Theda. Just like Theda Bearer, the old silent picture star. Oh. Well, this is how it happened, Bill.
I was watching the crowd at Rusty's funeral. I spotted a trim little number all in black, whispering to Joe Nelson. Who's Nelson? Joe Nelson, a small-time thug. Well, anyway, she moved off. I thought she might be a relative of the deceased, so I asked Joe about her. He claimed he'd never seen her before. And all that she'd said to him was, four o'clock at the Benner Bar and Grill.
Four o'clock at the Banner Bar and Grill. Sounds like a message. That's what Joe figured. Only he decided that she delivered it to the wrong guy. Well, I sort of wanted to see her again, so I persuaded Nelson he needed to drink. We slipped around the corner here to the Banner Bar and Grill. Sure enough, she was here waiting for us. Now, Tom, watch yourself. Bill, you've got the wrong idea. She's a
perfect lady. Yeah? What about that big story you claimed you had? I'm coming to it. But honest, Bill, I want you to meet Theda. You'll go for her. Hey, look, look, I'm going to put her on the phone to say hello. Here she is. Theda? Hello, Bill Storm. Hello, Theda. Is that your real name? Yes. Don't you like it, Bill? Well, sure I like it. What's the rest of it?
Any girl my sidekick goes overboard for, I'd like to know her name. There isn't any rest of it, Bill. Just Peter. Oh, nobody has just one name. Not these days. Sorry, Bill. It's all I've ever had. Here's Tom again. Yeah.
Listen, listen, Bill, I'm going to fix up a date with her for you. But here's the story that I promised you. Joe Nelson has been getting quietly plastered. And from what he's let slip, I'm positive he's the gunman who killed Rusty Dean. He is? Well, then hang on to him. I am. You get a car, come down here. We'll smuggle him up to the office and work on him. Maybe we can get the whole story out of him. I'll be there in 15 minutes. Keep buying him drinks until I get there. What's the address? It's on the corner of 15th and Spruce. Bill...
Two men just came in the door. They got Tommy guns. They're
They're after Joe Nelson. Tom, what happened? They just mowed him down. Vita's gone. She slipped away when they came in. I think she fingered him for them. Yeah, yeah, that explains everything. Bill, they're coming over toward this phone booth. They're going to shoot. Bill! Tom! Tom! Bill. Bill, they've got me. Find that girl. She knows who they are.
She's working with them. So long, Bella. I was there in five minutes, even before the police got there. The place was deserted except for the two dead men. Joe Nelson, the gunman, and Tom. Tom, my best friend, led to his death by a Delilah in a black dress.
Well, the police didn't find the gunman who did the shooting, so I set out to find the girl, to track them down through her. Once I found her, she was going to talk plenty. I began the hunt by calling on the man who'd been Rusty Dean's chief lieutenant and was running his enterprises now, Nick Murray. Sit down, Storm. You said you wanted to talk to me. What about? Murray...
Did your boys kill Joe Nelson this afternoon? My boys? No, Bill. Why should they? Maybe because it was Nelson who bumped off Rusty Dean. He did? How do you know that? You mean you didn't know him? Listen, if I'd known that Nelson would have been dead long before this... I figured that. That's what made me think that you were in the clear. You haven't told me how you know Nelson killed Rusty. Well, he had a few drinks this afternoon. He let his slip out to Tom Jervis, my sidekick.
Just before those two hoodlums riddled them both, a brunette named Theda put Nelson and Tom on the spot for them. A brunette named Theda? Never heard of her. Oh, I hoped you might have. A good figure. Deep, dark eyes, low soft voice.
Looks like a lady. Some lady if she works for the Bumpoff gang. No, I never heard of her. But if she's working with any local mob, I'll hear about her, all right? If any of my boys run across her, I'll let you know. Thanks, Rudy. But warn them. If they meet her, watch out. She's pure dynamite. Well, that was one lead that got me no place.
So next I dropped in on Captain Hughes, the head of Homicide, to ask if the police had gotten any fingerprints off the glass the girl had been drinking from before the shooting started.
Sorry, Bill. No dice. You mean you didn't get anything from the girl's glass? Not a thing. You see, she hadn't touched it. None of the liquor was gone. Well, now, that proves that she wasn't on the level. Not necessarily, but... I've issued orders to have her picked up if she's found. Not much to go on, though. We're trying to get a description from Gomez, the waiter who served them, but... But what? Well, he says he didn't get a good look at her. When she slipped away, he didn't even see her go. Some eyes he must have had.
I suppose he didn't even see the shooting. Not much of it. He dived down the cellar steps when it started. He's in Civic Hospital now. Well, I'm going out there to talk to him. He must have noticed something. Oh, and so long, Captain, and thanks.
It wasn't much of a lead, but it was all I had. It was pretty late by now. When I got there, the hospital had settled down for the night. They put Gomez in a ward, and outside the ward I found a nurse on duty. The blonde kid who turned as I came up. Oh, good evening. You looking for someone? Yes, my name is Storm. I'm looking for a patient named Gomez. Gomez? Oh, yes. Broken arm and internal injury. How is he? Is he awake?
Yes. He's feeling badly. Complains of pains in his chest. Well, if he's awake, I want to talk to him. This is police business. What bed's he in? The last one, down by the far door. But I'll have to ask the doctor if you can see him. Will you wait here? She disappeared down the hall, but I didn't wait. The ward was dark, except for a couple of dim lights. I started for the far end and... Then I saw her. Oh!
She was just a figure in a black dress bending over the last bed. But it was Theodore, right? It had to be. I tipped her down the room. She was talking to Gomez. And he was mourning a little. It hurts, doesn't it, Gomez? Yes, of course it does.
But it'll go away soon. He mumbled something, and then he reached for the glass on the table beside his bed. A drink of water? Of course. Let me help you. She helped him lift the glass to his lips, and then I knew what she was up to when I yelled, Gomez, drop that glass! Don't drink out of it! He dropped it all right, but it was too late. He'd already drunk from it.
He turned to stare at me, his mouth open, and she moved toward the door right beside her. I ran after her, but it was too late. When I reached it, she was gone, swallowed up in a dark hole. I knew it wasn't any use hunting for her, and I turned back to Gomez. In my impatience, I grabbed his shoulder. Gomez! Who was she? What did she want? Mr. Storm, you're not supposed to be in here. What are you doing to my patient? I'm going to make him answer me. Take your hands off him. Mr. Storm.
He's not going to answer any questions for you tonight. And I say yes. I'm afraid not, Mr. Storm. He's dead. Yes. He was dead, all right. The only possible witness who could have led me to her and she eliminated him. And then I knew that whoever she was and whatever her game was, trying to find her was going to be about as safe as moving into a den of rattlesnakes.
I put in a bad night trying to figure it all out. Next morning, when I got down to the paper, my eyes looking like two holes burning a bladder, I handed up my editor, Harry Holloway, in the city room. Well, well, look at Frankenstein. What happened to you, Bill? Oh, I'm all right, Harry.
Listen, anything new come in about those thugs who killed Tom? Not a thing. Papers needling the police, but, well, so far, no results. And there won't be either, till we find that girl in black. She's the key to the whole thing, I know it. Aren't you getting a little hip about that girl in black? After all, she may be perfectly innocent. Oh, yeah? Yeah.
Then how do you explain her killing Gomez last night, just before I could question him? Bill, are you sure you didn't imagine you saw her at the hospital? After all, nobody else did. Not even the nurse. Imagine it. I heard her talking to him. In a soft, honey voice as if she was bringing him flowers instead of poison. Now, that's another thing. The hospital autopsied Gomez. Found no trace of poison. They claim it was internal hemorrhage and shock that killed him. Sure, the shock of a nice, healthy slug of poison in his glass of water.
Suppose they didn't find anything. I weren't looking for her, that's all. Harry, look, I saw her killer. Okay, okay, you saw her. Now what? I want to be relieved of all assignments until I find her, that's what. She's in this city and I'll run her down inside a week. Or I'll quit calling myself a reporter. A week, I said. Didn't take any week to find her. Not that girl. She got around too much. I saw her again just one hour later.
It happened like this. I went back to my apartment and I dropped into a chair beside my window. And I started trying to figure my next move. Now, I have an inside room and the window looks right out on another building across an air shaft, not ten feet away. I've been sitting there about half an hour when, out of the corner of my eye...
I saw someone in the room directly across from me come to the window and stand there, looking over at me. It was a girl in a black dress, wearing a cute little hat with a black veil down over her eyes. And as soon as I saw her, I knew it was Theda. Don't ask me how I knew, I just did. Standing there with a ten-foot air shaft separating us. Well, I did what I could. I turned so that she couldn't see what I was doing, and I got Captain Hughes on the phone.
He said that he'd have the building surrounded if I could keep her talking for five minutes. Well, I hung up the phone and I turned back toward the window, trying to act casual. Hello, Theda. Looking for me? Hello, Bill. No, it's just accidental that I'm here. But you're looking for me, aren't you? Her voice did something to me. I can't explain it. It sounds crazy for a hard-boiled crime reporter to say, but...
It seemed to get down inside me and twist things all around. Well, a minute ago, I had hated her. And now... Well, now I knew why Tom had gone overboard about her. I said something, anything to keep her talking. Why, yeah, Theda, I've been looking for you. You're a hard girl to find. I have to be, Bill. But why, Theda? Look, you're just a kid.
What kind of a racket are you mixed up in, anyway? I'm sorry, Bill. I can't answer that. But listen, you could be anything you wanted. You don't have to be mixed up with murder. Then you think I'm a murderer? What else can I think? Last night you killed that poor devil at the hospital. I saw you. Yes, I know. You wouldn't believe me if I told you you're wrong, would you? Oh, I'd like to, Theda, but I can't. I can't. I'm sorry, Bill. I'm sorry.
Someday you'll know the truth. Now I have to go. Oh, no, wait. Let me look at you. I think we met someplace before. Yeah, it was Chicago. I can't remember where. Please don't try to, Bill. And don't try to find me anymore.
I'll goodbye. Oh, no, wait. Look. She was gone. And then somebody else appeared at the window. A window washer. A window washer.
He started to climb out on the sill to fasten his belt with the safety hooks. And I yelled at him, Hey, you! That girl who was there, stop her! You mean the little number in the black dress? Yeah, where did she go? She went out just as I come in. But... Well, go after her or grab her. She's wanted by the police. Hey, listen, mister. I'm here to wash windows, not to chase dames. If the police want her, let them catch her. Quit bothering me. I got a job to do. Hey, look on. Your safety hook. No! Ah!
Right in front of my eyes, he fell 15 floors. I saw the safety hooks break as he leaned his weight against them. And then I knew why she'd been there. She'd been there to weaken those hooks, to make sure that poor devil fell and killed himself.
Well, Storm, we didn't get her. She slipped through our fingers somehow. But she was there, Captain. I saw her. I talked to her. Ah, she was there, all right. We found a handkerchief in the room. A woman's handkerchief. Initial J on it. Heavy perfume. Here it is. Lilac. It's drenched in lilac. But look, the initial's J.
She said her name was Theda. She was kidding you. But she did the job all right. Those safety hooks had been filed away to nothing. One of the local mobs is trying to get control of the window washers union. That's why she was killed. Intimidation. Sweet little lady, that one. Hey, but Stone, the elevator boy who took her up says she was a blonde, not a brunette. He was crazy. Her hair's as black and soft as midnight. Getting poetic, aren't you?
I wonder if you're still as anxious to find that girl as you were. What? Of course I am. Yeah? And when I find her, she'll get what's coming to her. That's what I said. I didn't know for sure whether I meant it or not. I just knew that I had to find her again. For four days, I combed the town for that girl.
And then, two nights ago, as I was walking home, just about midnight, I ran into Dutton, a cop I knew, looking down the dark street and scratching his head. Hello, Dutton. What's the matter? You see a ghost? Oh, hello, Mr. Storm. No, but I got a funny feeling I just saw that girl Captain Hughes once picked up. You did? Where? When? Just a minute ago. I was walking my beat when this dame comes past me, all dressed in black, and she smiles at me. Yeah, go on. What happened then?
Where'd she go? Down the street. She turned into that door down there. Well, come on, then. If she's still there, we've got to get her. In 30 seconds, we were standing before the dark door that Dutton said the girl had turned into. It was partly open. That's the door, Mr. Storm. But that's the entrance to her first storage loft. Why would she go in there? I don't know, but we'll find out. Well, better let me go first. I've got a gun here. I'll see what's going on inside. He pushed the door open, stepped into the dark hall...
And then I heard him call out. Hey, lady, I want to talk to you. Hey, you up there. Put down that fire. Put it down. Dutton. Dutton. Who shot you?
Was it the girl? No. She was just standing there. It was two guys upstairs. Hijacking the furs. They... They... Tutton! Tutton! But listen, Storm. You say you didn't see her. Then how do you know it was the same girl? I know, Captain Hughes.
She was acting as a lookout for those fur thieves. She deliberately lured him in there to his death. Maybe, and maybe not. I'm seriously beginning to doubt if it's the same girl mixed up in all these cases. I think it's just a theory. Your theory. I'll prove it to you. She's definitely mixed up in these rackets. And by now, Nick Murray and his boys must have learned something about her. I'm going over there now and find out. When I got to Murray's club, one of the boys showed me up to the office.
Hello, Storm. Come in and sit down. Thanks. I will. Can I fix you a drink? No. No, thanks. I just wondered if you'd picked up any trace of that girl I was asking you about. Peter? No, the boys haven't turned up a thing. Look, are you sure you're not just imagining her? That's what the police are beginning to think, too.
But I'm not, Nick. She's real, all right. Listen, if there was any such girl working in this man's town, I'd know about her by now. Unless she's awful smart. And it looks like this one is. Hmm.
Oh, well, I guess I'd better go and get some sleep. I need to... Oh, before you go... Yeah? I don't know anything about the girl, but tomorrow I may be able to tell you who killed your sidekick, Tom Jervis. You may? Yeah, when? Well, I won't have the dope until tomorrow night. If you'll meet me around ten, I can give it to you. I'll meet you. Just say where. You know the tambourine bar on Third Avenue? No, but I'll find it. Okay, there's a back room. Meet me there about ten. And come alone. About ten. Right.
I'll be there. I went home, but I didn't get much sleep. I was too keyed up. About three, I get up and I put on a dressing gown. I sat down by the window to smoke. And then, behind me... Hello, Bill Storm. I turned, and she was there, standing in the doorway. I started to get up, but... No, stay where you are, Bill. Unless you do, I'll leave.
Theda, why have you come here? You've been looking for me so hard, Bill. I thought I ought to. Look, I won't touch you or try to make you stay, but let me get up and fix you a drink. I'm sorry, Bill. I can't stay. But I did want to tell you the time has come when you can know the truth about me. You mean you're going to tell me who you are and why you've done what you did? Everything, Bill. But not tonight.
I'll see you again tomorrow, though. When? Where? You have an appointment, don't you, with Nick Murray? At ten o'clock? Oh, yeah. At the Tambourine Bar.
How do you know? Are you working for him? No, Bill, I'm not. I don't work with anyone. Yeah, but Peter... Please don't ask me any questions now. I can't tell you anything until tomorrow night. Good night, Bill. Oh, no, wait. You can't go yet. But she was gone. By the time I reached the door, she was out of sight.
So I went back to bed, but I didn't get any sleep. I was groggy. One-strunk. I knew she was guilty, but I wanted to believe she was innocent. Well, now I'm going to learn the truth. I'm waiting in the back room at the Tambourine Bar. It's almost ten. And I'm just finishing this report that I started this morning. She should be here soon. So should Nick Murray. If what she tells me satisfies me, that she's innocent, I'll tear this up.
But if she isn't... Well, I'm going to find out because she's coming through the door now. Hello, Bill. Hello, Theda. You did come, didn't you? Of course I came, Bill. You believe bad things about me, don't you? Oh, yes. How can I help it? Believe me, Bill, I'm not wicked. Look at me and see if you really think I'm bad. She lifted her veil and... And for the first time I saw her face clearly. It was...
Just as I thought it would be. A beautiful face. With dark eyes that I could see into deeper and deeper. Like looking into the heart of the night itself. Now, Bill. Do you really think I'm wicked? Oh, no.
No, I don't. I've been wrong. But who are you, then? What's your connection with these murders? You'll know in a moment, Bill. I have to leave you, just for a minute or two. Just while you talk to Murray. He's coming now. She slipped out one door while Murray came in the other. Nick closed the door behind him and sat down. Well, I see you're on time, son. Yes. If you can tell me who killed Tom Jervis, I want to know. That's what I'm here for.
Two of my boys killed him. Two of your boys? That's right. You see, Joe Nelson killed Rusty Dean on my orders, so I could take over. Then I saw your friend trying to pump Joe. I couldn't very well afford to take chances. I had to get rid of both of them. I see. That explains a lot. What about the girl? I don't know a thing about her. I think you just made her up as an excuse to come asking me questions. Oh, no. No, I didn't. She's real. I know better.
Because you did see a girl in that apartment where the window washer fell, but not a girl in black. You saw Janice, my girl. She filed those safety hooks, dropped that handkerchief the police found. She did? You mean, you had that fellow killed? Yes, Tom. Just a little business deal I'm interested in. And last night I decided...
You were getting to be a nuisance. That's why I'm telling you all this now. Because you're not going to pass it on. Oh, no. Don't put that gun away. You can't get away with it. Goodbye, Storm. We won't be meeting again. No.
Theda. Theda. Here I am, Bill. Theda, help me. Call a doctor. I'm sorry, Bill. I can't. But it won't hurt long. Theda. Yes, Bill. I recognize you now.
I know where I saw you that time in Chicago. Yes, Bill, I knew you'd remember. Oh, no. No, stay away from me. Bill, don't be afraid of me. No, stay away from me. Stay away. Bill, come back. You mustn't run away from me. Come back. Come back. Come back.
No. No, I won't. I won't. You're not going to get me like you did the others. Mr. Storm. Mr. Storm, can you hear me? What? Where am I? You're a nurse. Yes. You're in Civic Hospital. You were brought here an hour ago, shot in the chest. You were found crawling down 3rd Avenue by policemen. Oh, yeah. Yeah.
I remember. Nurse, take this down. Nick Murray shot me. Get word to the morning letter. Certainly, Mr. Storm. Now please lie quietly while I get the doctor. I'll only be a minute. Hello, Bill. Hello, Peter. Peter?
You followed me here. Yes. You shouldn't have run away, Bill. I did it because... I remembered where I saw you last. In Chicago. The time I was in a taxi accident. I saw you in the other car. Just before we hit... Three people were killed. That's right, Bill. You did see me then. Yes.
And now you know who I am. Yeah. Yeah, I know. Now I understand... why you have to be around... when people die. You don't kill them. It's just... your job to be there...
But I... I never expected you to be... a beautiful girl. Why not, Bill? Just because people think of me as an ugly old man with a scythe, does that make it true? I'm not really ugly, you know. I'm not someone you have to be afraid of. Oh, no. And I'm glad...
You're beautiful. Makes it easier this way. Now take my hand, Bill. It's time for us to go. Yeah, sure. I'm ready. He recovered consciousness a minute ago, Dr. Clark. I came for you at once. You seem to be quite strong, and I...
Doctor! Doctor Clark! He's dead! This is the mysterious traveler again. So that was the secret of the girl in black. Cedar. A strange name. T-H-E-D-A.
I wonder if Bill ever did realize that those are the same letters that spell death. But he did what he set out to do. He learned the truth, and he avenged his friend, and he... Oh, you have to get off here. I'm sorry. But I'm sure we'll meet again. I take this same train every week at this time. Oh!
You have just heard The Mysterious Traveler, a series of dramas of the strange and terrifying. In tonight's cast were Maurice Torplin, Chet Stratton, James Van Dyke, Wendell Holmes, Mort Lawrence, and Joan Tompkins. Original music was played by Jack Ward. The Mysterious Traveler is written, produced, and directed by Rob Arthur and David Kogan. The Mysterious Traveler
Listen next week to a tale titled... Death, where's my face? Another strange and shivery tale of the Mysterious Traveler. The Mysterious Traveler came to you from our New York studios. Carl Caruso speaking. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System. The Mysterious Traveler
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Mystery House, that strange publishing firm owned by Dan and Barbara Glenn, where each new novel is acted out by the Mystery House staff before it is accepted for publication. Mystery House.
The title of the story we're trying out for Mystery House tonight, Barbie, it intrigues me. Bury me not. That's not the only thing that will intrigue you. The whole story's full of surprises. Oh, not the whole story, Mrs. Glenn. What do you mean, Tom? Right about now, there's always an important message for our listeners. And here it is. Listen. Okay, places, everybody. Set the scene for tonight's story, will you, Tom?
Bury Me Not. Tonight's story opens in the office of Police Lieutenant Kane. Vera Blythe is being questioned about the mysterious death of her husband. Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Blythe. I don't like this any more than you do. But I have to have all the facts about your husband's death. But, Mr. Kane, I've told you. I don't know anything about his death. Oh, come now, Mrs. Blythe. You've admitted you and your husband have been quarreling. Well, of course we quarreled. Every married couple quarrels, but...
But, Mrs. Blyde, you went too far, didn't you? Your temper got the best of you. And when your husband walked out... No! When he walked out, you followed him to his hotel room. No, no, I didn't. You brought a gun with you, not intending to use it, but you lost your temper. He goaded you. No, no, no, I didn't. I tell you, I didn't. Mrs. Blyde, look. The gun...
The gun has your fingerprints all over it. Nobody else's. It was lying on the floor next to your husband's body. And you were found rushing down the hotel stairs within three minutes of the time the shots were heard. But I didn't do it. He telephoned me. I thought he wanted to make up. I went there because he called me.
Mrs. Bly, the evidence is all against you. You went to his hotel room and asked him to come back. Your pride was hurt. Or if either of you were to walk out, you wanted to do the walking. So you tried to get him back. No, I didn't even know where he was until he telephoned me. You went to his room and he only laughed at you. He told you it was all through. And because he was so calm, you got hysterical. And before you knew it, you had the gun in your hand. He was still laughing at you. So you pressed the trigger and fired at his laughing face. You couldn't take your hand off the trigger...
The gun kept right on firing, and the bullets kept hitting that laughing face. Yes, you wanted to wipe that laugh away forever. And from the looks of the corpse, you just about did it. Oh, no, I couldn't have done that. I didn't touch the gun. I hadn't even seen it for a week. Mrs. Blyde, you're suffering from shock. We call it a form of self-hypnosis. That's why I'm trying to help you. I want to restore your real memory of what actually happened. I... Oh, baby, you're right. I...
Yeah, I have been suffering from shock. I shouldn't let myself get hysterical. Yeah, that's better. But, Mr. Kane, I didn't do it. You didn't? No, no, not again. Now, let's not go through all this again. Please, Mr. Kane. Let me tell you what I do know. Okay, okay, go ahead. Orem hasn't had an acting job for over a year.
But actually, he was getting paid by Dr. Gale. Alfred Gale, the vitamin king? Yes. Or him look so much like Gale that Gale hired him as a double. Why should Gale need a double? I don't know. I suppose Gale was afraid because he had so much money. That's ridiculous. I know. I thought so, too.
But Orem used to substitute for Dr. Gale at lectures. I mean, when Gale was engaged to give a lecture on health, he'd get Orem to appear for him. Your husband looked so much like Gale, the public couldn't tell the difference? Even I couldn't tell the difference. Except that, well, Orem had his car on his leg just below the knee. Yeah, well, what about their voices? Wasn't there a difference in them? Oh, yes, but Orem was an actor. He could change his voice so that no one would ever know.
Why? This telephone call you said you got. You're sure that was your husband's voice? I'm positive. I lived with him too long to mistake it. But I don't see why... Well, if you didn't kill your husband, then somebody else did. Now, I don't say I believe you, Mrs. Blythe, but it's just possible that this Dr. Gale did have a reason to be afraid. But...
What do you mean? Well, supposing Gail had some enemies, the killing kind. If somebody told them that Gail had checked into this cheap hotel, they'd have seen that as a perfect chance to do away with him. You mean maybe Gail had whoever these men are tipped off that he was registered under Orem's name? I said maybe. Now look.
Can you identify your husband's body, if it is his body, by that scar on his leg? Yes, but that won't prove... No, it won't prove anything. But it may make it a little easier to get Gail to sing. Granted, he knows something about this. But... But nothing. We're going to the morgue right now. The End
All right, down here. Now, just because this is a morgue, don't go pulling any flopperoo on me. Oh, I... Oh, this is ghastly. I don't... Now, stay on your feet, Mrs. Blythe. Now, you want to get to the bottom of this thing, don't you? Oh, yes, but please hurry, Mr. Cain. I can't stand this awful place much longer. Ah, here we are. Here's the body. Now, just one look. Now, which leg did you say the scar was on? The right. The...
What did you... What is it? I can't see in this light. He's gone. What? Yeah, the body's gone. There's nothing here. Just a sheet and an overcoat. What?
Come in, Brady. Come in. Tell me all about it. Sit down, Brady. Sit down. Don't jump. Chief, look. Brady, if there's one thing I can't stand, it's excuses. I've got bodies disappearing. I've got women fainting and going home to bed. But I ain't gonna have excuses. I want that body, Brady. Now, where is it?
Chief, I'm trying to tell you... Don't try to tell me, Brady. Just tell me. Where is the body? Where? Chief, it's... Don't tell me you know where it is, Brady. No, don't do that. That'd be too much. Why, it's only four hours since it disappeared. Now, you couldn't possibly have found it in four hours. Now, could you, Brady? Well, the body ain't disappeared, Chief. I've been trying to tell you. The bo... What? Now,
Now, Brady, look. I'm a patient man, Brady, but I'm not going to stand for any tomfoolery about this. Now, where did you find it? That's all you've got to tell me. Where did you find it? In the morgue. What? Yeah, I've been trying to tell you. It was in the morgue all the time. Yes, yes.
Right in the same place where it belonged. It's there now. I'll show you. Brady, wait a minute. Calm down. Look, you don't seem to understand. The body I'm talking about was gone. I was there myself, Brady. I saw it gone with me own eyes. And I still got 20-20 eyesight. So help me, Chief. It's the truth. The body was right there where you told me it should be. And with a face all smashed in by bullet holes, too. Yeah, with a smashed face with...
Brady, I'm warning you. You'd better be sure of this. If you... Oh, come on. We're going down to the morgue. And you'd better be right about this, Brady. Oh.
I see. Here it is. Yes, I see, Brady. I see, I see. But confound it. I'm too young a man to be having hallucinations. That body was not there when I was here with Mrs. Blythe. Now, Chief, the guy in the office says it was there all the time. The guy in the office said? I don't care what the guy in the office says. It was not there. Now, that I'm sure of. Now,
Now, let's have a look for that scar. If the scar is there... Now, what scar? The scar on his right leg. Mrs. Blythe says her husband had a scar on his right leg. Just below the knee. You mean you think there are two guys with their faces bashed in like that? Yeah, here it is. Here it is. Below the right knee. Yeah, it must be on Blythe, all right.
Well, I hope you're satisfied. Satisfied? I'm a long way from satisfied. I want to know who pulled the hocus-pocus on that disappearing body. You know, Chief, sometimes I think you're getting old. I'm a lot older than you're going to be unless you get...
Pull that sheet back over him. The way that face is mangled gives me the creeps. Yeah, you're also getting soft. Shut up and come on. Yeah, where are you going? To talk to Mrs. Blythe. Oh.
Go ahead, step on it, Brady. Look, you don't have to worry about red lights. You're a cop, remember? Okay, okay, but what's the rush? I thought you said the blind dame went home to bed. Yeah, I know, I know, but that body switch is making me nervous. I think maybe I was a fool. You think? Shut up, Brady, or I'll be making your face look like that when we saw in the morgue. Still, why the rush? I don't get you. Yeah.
Has it ever occurred to that thick brain of yours that maybe Mrs. Blythe played me for a sucker? Pulled that fast shuffle in the morgue and then that faint. It's a pretty neat way of getting loose from us.
You mean you didn't leave nobody to watch her? Of course I left somebody to watch her. Underwood. And he's about as smart as you are. Now, look, Chief. So far, against you, I look pretty good. Yeah. I got dough that says the dame didn't do it. All right, all right. Skip it and turn this corner. You have to do that, you know. The blithe place is that brownstone front there. Yeah.
Well, I still got a hunch the Blythe Dame is here. Yeah? I'll save your brains. We're going in and see. The second floor. Come on, Brady. Come on. Come on. It's Underwood. They got Underwood. All right, go on. Find Mrs. Blythe. I'll look after Underwood. Yeah. Underwood. Underwood, did you... He's close. He's gone.
Hey, Brady! Brady? Brady. Yeah, yeah. They got Mrs. Blythe, too. She's bleeding something awful. Yeah? Let me look. Ah. Yeah, it's a... It's a flesh wound in the arm. Hmm. Nice, soft place to get shot. In the arm. Hmm.
Yes, the plot thickens. Mrs. Blythe, the only real suspect Lieutenant Kane had, has been shot by an unlawful assailant. Or was she?
Of Kane and Brighton casting suspicious glances at Mrs. Blythe, there might be more to this shooting than appears on the surface. At any rate, the second act of Bury Me Not will prove whether Kane's guess is right. And now, Act Two of Bury Me Not.
Lieutenant Kane, back at his office, has called in the much-discussed Dr. Alfred Gale in the hope of finding some new clue to clear up the mystery surrounding the death of actor Orem Blackett.
Now, look here, Lieutenant. I'll be glad to answer what questions I can, but you must remember I'm a busy man. Yeah, well, sit down, if you please, Dr. Gale. The police are busy, too, you know. We want to get this over with as soon as possible. Of course. Stupid of me, stupid of me. I must be more patient. That's part of what I call my manifesto of health. Patience. Patience.
I must learn to use my own advice, huh? Well, we have to get information about the persons who've been threatening you. Threatening me? What do you mean, threatening me, Lieutenant? Now, look, Doctor, we know you hired Oram Blythe as a double. That's true, isn't it? Yes, but... Mrs. Blythe believes you used her husband as a decoy against somebody who wanted to kill you. What's that?
Ridiculous. Men in my position, respected, loved, they're ridiculous. Not quite, doctor. You had a reason for having a double. What was it?
What was it? I'm a busy man. Too busy. Appointments, lectures, my vitamin business. Too many demands on my time. Forced to have someone to pinch head for me. Someone who could deliver my lectures and gain the same confidence in the public as myself. Obvious, isn't it? Someone who looks like me. This spitting image of me, eh? That was this actor fellow Blythe. Perfect. Perfect.
Looked just like me. Could talk, too. So I hired him to take over my lectures. Gave me more time. Right, doctor. Or I'm blithe to give you more time to spend on your gambling. What's that? Now, look here. You can't. Oh, I can't. Huh, doctor? Well, I have.
You know, the police have underworld connections, too. Underworld? My dear sir, do you realize... Suppose I talk for a while, huh? I've checked up on you through the underworld. And what do you think I found out? See here, I'm a busy man. I can't sit around listening to false accusations. Oh, you misunderstand me, doctor. I'm not accusing you. But certain characters in the underworld do accuse you of welching on a gambling debt of over $50,000. What's that...
That's ridiculous. I'm a busy man, too busy to be bothering with... No, no, doctor, let's not waste time on the gambling debt. The point is that it's perfectly possible that somebody who had an interest in that debt might like to blow you to bits. Bits? Why, you...
You had me all wrong, Lieutenant. Oh, don't bother to deny it, Doctor. The point is, did you or didn't you get a tip that somebody was going to rub you out? And if you did, did you plant Oren Blythe in your place so that he was murdered instead of you? Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Yes, I don't blame you, Doctor. It wouldn't look so good to have the newspapers tell that story. No, it might not fit the vitamin business. It's a trumped-up story if I ever heard one.
That actor fellow was always having trouble with his wife. Told me so himself. Obvious his wife did it. Murdered him in cold blood. Isn't that the expression? You're a detective too, huh? Well, then how do you explain the fact that Mrs. Blythe was shot too? Obvious. Trick. She deduced you were suspicious of her. Shot the policeman, then shot herself. Made it look like she'd been attacked.
Found it easy to confuse you. As simple as that, is it? Yes, simple. Uh-huh. Well, we'll see, Doctor. In the meantime, I'm going to give you a little protection against your gambling friends. Protection, eh? For me? That's right. Sergeant Brady is going to go with you. And he's going to stay with you, just in case... I assure you, Lieutenant, that it's absolutely unnecessary. Absolutely. Oh, just a little service from your police department. I protest. It's an imposition. On who? On me, of course. You?
You don't seem to understand, Lieutenant. I'm a busy man, too busy to be worrying about policemen. You won't have to worry, Doctor. That's what Brady's paid to do. In the meantime, Mrs. Blythe and I have some unfinished business with the corpse. Corpse? What do you mean? That'll be all now, Doctor. You'll find Sergeant Brady just outside the door. Now look here. Good day, Doctor. Good day.
That's right, Doc. I'm coming in with you. Imposition. I don't need protection in my own home. You never know, Doc, with the friends you've got. Might as well do the thing gracefully. Make yourself at home, Brady. Have a cup of coffee? I could stand some java. Hey, where you going? Oh, great Scott, Sergeant. You seem nervous. I said, where you going? Oh, just to get the coffee, Sergeant.
Well, all right, but just remember, where you go, I go. Exactly what I was thinking. Ridiculous, isn't it? What's ridiculous? You going every place I go. I got my orders. I'm sticking to them. Yeah, yeah, of course, of course. You're here to protect me, huh? That's right. Exactly. Strikes me, Brady. We might make a bargain, huh? What are you talking about? Simple. You
You want to do your job, I want to do mine, huh? Yeah, only right now you are my job. Yeah, so it seems. It occurred to me, though, we might make our jobs easier for both of us. Now, what do you mean? Simple.
I can't do my job with you gazing constantly over my shoulder. And I fear following me every step is going to prove irksome to you. Maybe so, but that's the way it is. Suppose you were to... Listen, Doc, I know what you're going to say. Only it's no deal, see? No matter how busy you are, I'm sticking with you. If your friends take another crack at killing you, I'll be ready for them. And then... Hey, who turned out them lights?
Oh, I wish you wouldn't make me do this again. This is the most horrible place. Well, now, really, Mrs. Blythe, this time will only take a minute. But I want you to see that scar, just to be sure the body is your husband's. Isn't this the place? Yeah. It should be right here. Let's take you...
Now, what is it? Oh, no, not again. They can't do this to me. What is it, Mr. King? What? No, you look. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I can't see anymore. What? What? It ain't true, is it? There's no body there. Tell me. Go on. It is gone. Come on. We're going to... But, Mr. King, are you sure? Couldn't the body have been moved? Maybe this isn't the right place. Oh, no. I made sure of that when we came in here. They swore up and down it was there right where it belonged. Now there isn't even an overcoat under the sheet. What?
No, no. No, no. No, you don't. Now, you can't paint on me again, Mrs. Blythe. Come on, we're getting out of here. I don't understand. Neither do I, but this time I know you didn't do it. Now all I get to make sure of is that Brady was watching Dr. Gale.
Brady, Brady, for the love of Pete, what's happened to you anyway? Brady, come on. Come on, wake up, wake up. Come on, guy. Here, here, start untying those knots, Mrs. Blythe. Hey, what the... Oh, hello, Chief. Oh, my head. What a wallop.
You got an aspirin? Oh, thank goodness he isn't badly hurt. Hey, what happened? What happened, he says. Brady, I left you in charge here, you remember? You're supposed to tell me what happened. I ain't in the mood for jokes, Chief. All I know is I get conked as soon as the lights go out. The lights? They're on now. Hey, look.
I'm sitting here with that stuffed shirt Doc Gale, and he's trying to talk me out of dogging his heels when all of a sudden the lights go out and whammo! Somebody takes a cut at me from behind. I should have given you a bodyguard, I guess. Where's Doc Gale? In my left pocket.
Are you being funny? Oh, Tal, let's find him. Sure, where? Where? We'll have to search the house. He may be a stiff by this time. Oh, please, no more dead bodies. Come on, where's the stairway? Maybe he's upstairs. Yeah, right through this archway, you hear? Okay, let's... Hey, Doc Gale. Yeah, they got him, too. No, he ain't dead. You can feel his breath. Who shot him? He wasn't shot, Mrs. Blight. He was hit on the head with a blackjack and then choked.
But the murderer must have been in a hurry. He didn't choke him long enough. Yeah, but look at those fingernail marks on his neck. There's still blood coming from him. Yeah, well, let's pick him up, Brady, and put him on a bed somewhere. Okay, there's a big sofa in the parlor. Here, here, I got him. All right, easy now, Brady. You've got his legs all tangled up. Oh, no, no, no, he can't be. What's wrong with her? Here, help me put him down. Oh, I should have known. I should have known.
Mrs. Blythe, now what's the matter? I should have left you at home. Look at his leg. Look. What's the matter with his leg? Can't you see? You pulled the trouser leg up. What? Ray, look. That scar. It's Orem. It's my husband. Hey, hey. He's moving his eyelids. Now, calm down, Mrs. Blythe. Maybe Dr. Gale had a scar, too. Oh, not just like that. It couldn't be just like that. Look out, Chief. He's coming through. Get away from me, coppers. I'm getting out of here, and I won't hesitate to shoot. No, no, you don't. Hey.
Give me that gun, Gale. Give it to me. What do you think you're doing? Yeah, I knew this guy was a rat. Oram, Oram, what's the matter with you? Greetings, Vera. So nice to see you again. So, you aren't Gale after all, huh? If you're not sure, how can you expect me to be? Oram, I knew you'd get into trouble, but this is...
Really, Pharaoh, your tears never were convincing. You've always been a horrible actress. Now, you leave your domestic complaints out of this, Gale. I mean, Blythe, you've got some explaining to do. You mean the police department has stymied? You mean you need me to explain? For two cents, I... Brady, let him talk. Hey, well, that guy must have slugged me himself. He turned out to lie... Brilliant, Brady, brilliant. An astounding deduction. Go ahead, Blythe, talk. Now I get it. You didn't find the body at the morgue, did you, Chief? No, that's it.
Blythe, you figured you could fool us with a body as long as your wife wasn't called to identify it. But when I told you I was going to take her to the morgue, you knew you had to get rid of that body. So you knocked out Brady. Then you got to the morgue ahead of me and back here in time... Of course he did. Look at his fingernails. Blood. Yeah, he grabs a hold of his own throat to make it look like he's been choked. Then he beans himself on that marble stairway so he's out as cold as I was. Wanted to pin it on your wife because you hated her, huh? Of course I hated her. Oh, I don't understand.
Oram, what have you done? He was pretty cute. He wanted to trade places with Gail and get all of his money. All he had to do was kill Gail and make it look like he himself was killed. So he called you and asked you to come to his hotel. In the meantime, he'd arranged to have Gail get there just ahead of you. He took your gun, Mrs. Blythe, to kill Gail and left it there on the floor. He had everything arranged so that you'd be found at the scene of the murder. Well, I knew he hated me, but this...
Don't waste your tears on him, Mrs. Flight. You're lucky to get rid of him. You know all the answers, don't you? But there's one little item I'm going to have the pleasure of telling you. The extra body. That was almost a masterpiece. Well? I was fortunate in learning you discovered the presence of the scar on my own leg.
I knew if you saw Gale's body, you wouldn't find the scar, so... This better be good. So I telephoned a mission house and said I was giving a charade, for which I needed a man with a scar just below his right knee. Of course, I used Gale's name and offered to pay him handsomely. When he arrived, I had no trouble destroying his face in the same way you found Gale's.
Bullet holes are excellent for quick makeup. But the scar wasn't the same as yours. No, it would satisfy everybody except Vera. That's why you got to see the scar and she didn't. She didn't, yeah. Thanks to you killing a good cop and winging her. Of course. I couldn't let her see either body. Two bodies and you thought there was only one. Two bodies? Well, I'll make you a little bet, chum. There's going to be another one. Yours. And this time there'll be plenty of witnesses.
The End
♪♪
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I'm sure this is the right house. Of course I'm sure this is the right house. Do I think it's the right house? Now, don't get cross. After all, the front door key wouldn't work either. It's not my fault it's dark and we got lost in this thunderstorm. Oh! Okay.
Are you going to carry me over the threshold? No, I am not going to carry you over the threshold. I can't get this bloody door open. What do you mean we got lost? I know perfectly well where we are. Here's another match, dear. Can you see the lock? Yes, I can see the lock. The key just doesn't fit. From Vancouver, welcome to the Mystery Theatre. THE MYSTERY THEATRE
♪♪
Oh, Philly, what have you done? I guess I broke the lock. Oh, well, it's only the back door lock. Oh, no! Oh, Philly, stop it! Put me down! You're such an idiot. I thought you wanted to be carried over to threshold. Not now when I'm all soggy. Oh, I thought you'd never get that door open. Here we are. Oh, it's good to be inside anyway. Welcome to your new home.
Oh, thanks loads, but I can't see a thing. Oh, thank you, Mr. Lightning. What a nice kitchen. Hey, what did you do with those matches? In my pocket. Well, you'll get some lights on and maybe I can get a fire going in the fireplace. Here they are. Where are you? I'm longing to see everything. Here's the light switch.
Nothing. Oh, how disappointing. They surely wouldn't have taken out the light bulb. Angelica! Just a minute, darling.
What's this door here? Oh, I don't know. The handle's sort of stuck in there. It won't... What do you mean you don't know? Well, I mean I don't remember. Here, let me see. Philip, I'm beginning to think you bought this house without even looking at it. Well, there are things all over the shop. Tell me honestly, you're not up to anything, are you? There, at last.
What do you mean, up to anything? You seem somehow guilty. Well, now, look here, Angelica. I thought I went over every inch, but I... Well, I guess I must have missed this room. Can't seem to find the light switch. Dark. Even the lightning flashes. The shutters must be drawn. Wait a minute. Oh, Philip! Oh, Philip!
Did you see what I saw in that flash? What a beautiful room. Yes, but look. They've forgotten to take the furnishings. I don't believe it. What do you mean you don't believe it? You can see the furniture, can't you? Oh, it's simply lovely. What I mean is people don't move out of a place and leave a room with everything just as it was. Well, like this. Well, maybe they had professional movers come and pack everything, and like me, they somehow didn't notice this room.
Angie, what are you doing? Nothing. Why, yeah, I just wanted to open the window and let some air in. No. But it's so musty. Don't touch. Look, darling, we're not children anymore, you know. Let me remind you that we're grown up and married now. And this is our home which we're going to live in, and I'll touch anything I damn well please. Come on out. Why? Because they've left all this stuff in here, that's why. Well, that's not my fault. Angie. Oh, all right, I'm coming. I think you're a pig. Look...
You see this writing desk? Isn't it exquisite? Yes, but you see, there's about three inches of dust on it. Oh, Philip, it... Well, it's weird, isn't it? It looks as if nobody's been here for ages. Well, somebody has been in here, and rather recently, too. Look, there, in the dust of the carpet. You see, where your heels go across to the window? Uh-huh.
Now, look. Going to the bed, you see? Oh, yes. With large feet, you have, Grandfather. Well, anyway, the bed can't be dusty with a curtain drawn. Yes, you see here? Footsteps go back to the door, but they're not nearly so noticeable. What are you doing? I'm just drawing back the curtains. Oh!
Whatever's the matter with you? Oh, what are you laughing at? You brute. Philip, that wasn't funny. Oh, I shall never speak to you again if you deliberately set up this whole show just to terrify me. You've always had a grisly sense of humour, even as a child. Stop laughing. I'm not laughing. I'm giggling nervously. There's a vast difference...
The fact is, this whole thing's beginning to get on my nerves. You've no idea how funny you look. One instant, your head's poking behind the curtain, and the next instant, you're halfway across the room. Now, look here, old girl, you'd better sit down.
You feel faint? Are you trying to tell me that you didn't plant the mannequin or doll or waxwork in it? Of course not. Now, look here, Angelica. Just because I once put an extremely small baby octopus in your bed when you were very young, an absolute pest, I might add, there's no reason why you should go... What mannequin? Look for yourself. Hmm?
Oh, my God. Well, it is a bit of a shocker, isn't it? Let's get out of this stupid room and go and phone the ghouls who used to own this place and tell them to come and get the remains out of here. We can also offer to sue them. I could have died of shock. Remains is right. This isn't a mannequin. It's a very nicely prepared for viewing corpse. False eyelashes and all.
You... You... You mean it's a... A... A body? A person? A... A dead woman? Oh, oh, oh, Sam. Don't clutch me like that. What have we done? What have we got to do? Oh.
Why did we ever buy this place? Why didn't you notice this stupid room? Obviously because I wasn't meant to notice it. Now pull yourself together. Where's that phone? Oh, come on. Go calling the police and get into the bottom of this. Now hurry up. Don't push.
Oh! Oh. Did you have to bang the door? Where are you going? The library's this way. Oh, really, Philip, you don't know... You told me to check the basement for dampness, the plaster for cracks, and the floor for creaks. You didn't say a word about secret rooms and corpses. Sorry.
Operator? Here, get me the police. Is that our car in the driveway? What do you mean? Of course our car's in the driveway. No, listen. I mean that... that motor going in the driveway. Oh, hello, police? Yes, this is Philip Scott of Number 12 Reading Place.
What? Yes, I know, but I... Yes, yes, we bought number 12 wedding place. Well, I think they took off rather suddenly for Australia. I bought the place on them and we want... Philip, Philip. There's a car just driven up to the front. What are we going to do? Look, officer, I want to report a dead body on the premises and to ask you to please come out here as quickly as you can. Philip. Philip. Philip.
Someone's coming very stealthily up to the front door. I peeked out and saw them. Well, don't attract attention. We don't want anyone coming in now. Just lie low. Yes, officer. Well, if you could send someone to investigate it, it would appear to be foul play.
Well, I guess not really, but it's very strange to say the least. Where it is? Unlocked front door and walked right in. Yes, officer, we'll be here. Give me that phone. Officer, officer, this is Mrs. Scott. I wish you would hurry. Two very horrible looking men have just broken into our house without a buy or leave. They're coming in here. Please come quickly. I'd like to know where they got a key that fits...
I certainly didn't.
Now, Philip, stay perfectly still. Maybe they'll just go away. Not on your life. This is my home, even if I haven't moved in yet. And I don't mean to have someone bust in like that. Well, I don't like the look on them, Philip. There's all the more reason why I should ask them to leave. Now, where are they? I can see a beam of light coming from the kitchen. Chief, the master switch is back at the stove. Is that where the hell it is? Chief, the back door's ajar. Well, get it closed, man. Keep your light down.
What's that car doing out there, Beast? Oh, I didn't notice it, sir. It's pitch black out there. Beast, in that lightning flash, I made out a 68 cream Lotus Elan hardtop convertible with disappearing headlights, left and right fog lamps, red upholstery, breakaway steering, and green and red sports stripes. License number QT77198. White wall tires, and oh yes,
There's a slight scratch under the left door handle, Beast. He's spotted our car. Did you hear what he called him? Beast. I don't give a damn what he called him. A man's home is his castle. Philip, are you mad? Don't you live? What the hell do you think you're doing, breaking into my house like this? Breaking into your house?
Is that your car out there? Yes, it is. Please, pull the master switch. But don't turn on any of the lights. I want it dark, dark, dark, dark, please. Somebody's turned on every light in the house. We're lit up like a Christmas tree. Get it off, get it off. You want to blow up everything? Take it easy, Chief. There, there, sit down. It's nice and dark now.
Or make a thorough check of the place and make sure that doesn't happen again. But first, Beast, check the room. I'll have to use me lights, sir. Sorry. Oh.
Ah, madam. Oh. The lie of the bones fascinates me. Oh, you have beautiful mandibles. Yes. How dare you? Yes, how dare you? Get out of here, both of you. My wife's mandibles are nothing to you. Purely a professional interest, are you sure? You must forgive him, madam. Beast is an ex-undertaker. Good bone structure.
is, you might say, a hobby. Beast. The room. Yes, Chief. Oh, how horrible. May I ask, madam, how long you've been here? An hour. Five minutes. An hour and five minutes, I think. No. No, no. He means it seems like an hour. We had a bit of...
difficulty finding the powers which you know and um well you see we bought the property uh sight unseen well not exactly you didn't see it before today angelica but i certainly did my husband inspected the garden and now well if you'll excuse us we'll be on our way come on philip oh now see here angelica i'm not leaving here without an explanation we paid a great deal of money for this house and i'm not going out of here leaving perfect strangers rattling around with a key to the front door that works we were forced to break in the back way now who are you and what are you doing here hold on hold on
You say you've bought this property. What name? Scott. My name's Scott. And yours? And I presume this is Mrs. Scott. Yes. Now, who the hell are you? Mr. Scott. And, madam, you've heard the old saying that the murderer always returns to the scene of the crime? Oh, dear. Yes, yes. Is that why you two are here? Exactly. Oh, dear. Yes. Now, the point is...
Why are you here? I've already told you. Be careful, Philly. You've told me that you're the owner of this property. And that is most unfortunate. Why are you lying to me, I wonder? Lying? Oh, look here. Here's the sales agreement. Sales agreement. The deed. The deed. And the title. The title. The title.
Number 12, Reading Place, I see. Well, Mr. Scott, this property isn't at Reading Place. What? Reading Place, Mr. Scott, is the road that runs north of here, on the other side of the ravine. This is Reading River Road, number 11.
Do you mean to say that... I mean it's a piece of rotten, foul luck. How simple and easy, if I dared to believe you, you were as unaware of a certain murder as you make out. We're innocent bystanders, I assure you. Innocent of what? Standing by what? Well, nothing. I mean, we don't know a thing. For sure, that is. Don't shut up, Philip. I'm inclined to believe you. Perhaps because I don't...
I'd dearly love to be rid of you. Rid of us? Yes. Oh. You complicate the situation. There is too much at stake.
You are in our way, madam. Oh. Oh, well. Well, you might as well let us go then because we don't know a thing. Goodbye. We're sorry to have troubled you. My husband just made a perfectly understandable mistake and... Oh! Don't pop in like that. Forgive me, madam. Well, beef. Somebody's been in the room. Uh-huh. The shutters have been disturbed. The shutters? Damn.
We're too late then. The whole set-up's been for nothing. Blast! No, Chief. It was these two who were in there. I'd swear to it, just as I suspected. Now, I must ask you to be perfectly frank with me. Beast, get that car under cover. Meanwhile, you two, come along with me. Here are the keys, Beast. You must show me exactly what you were up to in there. Oh, no. My keys...
How did you get my keys? You... you stole them in cold blood. Oh, the chief is as slick as they come. Get on with it, beef. No, not my car. Listen, we'll never get away with this. The police will be here at any moment. I warn you, they know about that back room. What do they know about that back room?
I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you to step along the hall and show me. Well, we felt they should be notified that the former owners had left the belongings behind that floor. You don't have to go in there again, Angelica. After you, madam. Better do what he says, Philip. I'm sure he's got a gun and you sent the police to number 12 Reading Place, remember? Ah, yes. No fear of them bungling round here at a crucial moment. Excellent. Excellent.
Cheer up, madam, because you've sent the locals to a wrong address. I have every reason to believe we have nothing to fear from you but your presence. Oh, you're perfectly right, although it doesn't sound too terribly complimentary somehow. Go in, please. The light, it's working now. I'm sorry, reflex action. Leave it.
Your stutters are tightly closed. Now, if you'll show me what you did in there, I'm sure I'll be able to let you go. Ah, scot-free, if you'll pardon the liberty. I don't say what there's to laugh about.
I made a joke, madam. A pun. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I have absolutely no sense of humour. That's Philip's department. Philip? Philip, you might have laughed. Sorry. What exactly do you want to know? Where you went and what you did. Well, well, it was quite dark, you see. I walked to the bed and to the shutters and opened them and back to the door and out.
When you were at the bed, you had a lighted match with you, did you not, Mrs. Scott? And you opened the curtains like this. And, oh, my God. Oh, for pity's sake. I don't believe it. What in heaven's name had that idiot done? You mean you didn't know? Certainly not.
That poor, wretched woman. How utterly horrible. I could cry. What is it, Chief? Beef, you are a swine. Sir. How could you do that to policewoman Dodds? Sir? Paint her up like that. Marcel her hair. You fool. You've destroyed the illusion. Bring her too. Get that stuff off her. Shut up, Angelica.
I couldn't help it. She's sitting up. Where am I? Who screamed? Are you all right, Dodds? Yes, sir. Good. Have you caught the murderer? Not yet, Dodds.
But you were picked because you resembled the dead woman. At least you did. Until... Believe me, sir, I didn't know that. This ghoul of a beast practiced his burial arts on you and you look like a chorus girl.
Clean her face. Yes, Chief. Oh, first you let me see. Here's my pocket mirror. Oh, Harry. You've made me beautiful. That you do, Dodge. Turn towards me so I can cold cream you off. Nobody's ever believed she was dead with all that claw on her face.
Get every last vestige off. Yes, sir. Blithering idiot. Can't you ever forget you were once an undertaker? It won't take a moment, sir. Just get this eye lamp. Ow! There we are. And now... Ow! Now, sir. How's that? Plain as they come, sir. Very well. Put her under a game beast. Oh, must he, sir? Of course. God's...
It's all in the line of duty, Dodds. We must act quickly, Dodds. Get on with it, Beast. Gladys, just relax now. Oh, how do you do it, Harry? I'm putty in your hands. Fact is, you're easy, Gladys. Now, watch the watch. Watch the watch. Watch the watch. Watch the watch.
Watch the watch. Now, Mr. and Mrs. Scott, off with you as quickly as possible. And the word of what has transpired here tonight. But I don't understand. Oh, come on, Philip. Just shut this door. It's quite simple. You see, one of the suspects of a murder which took place in this room
recently brought this house. And we have every reason to believe that that murderer will be returning in the next few minutes to wander through these empty rooms, reliving the crime. We believe, when confronted with that bedroom, exactly as it was when last seen, we can expect a confession. Arby's. Got their car keys there? Yes. Here they are, sir.
She's off, sir. Good. Oh, not that way, Philip. Oh, well, after all, I've never been here before, you know. Just let me make sure that that door's shut properly after you. Well, then, uh, and your police officers? Oh, yes.
I can't. Well, good night, Inspector. Yes, and good luck. Goodbye, Mr. Beast. I'm sorry I got cross about my mandibles. Thank you, ma'am. The garage is along there to the right. You've certainly made a mess of this back door lock. Naturally. None of my husband's keys worked. Philip? He's already at the car.
Thank goodness the rain stopped. Watch your step, Mrs. Scott. Good night. Well, thank you for escorting me so ceremoniously to the car. Hop in and let's go. I want to get you away from here before they start shooting up the place.
Besides, we need a stiff drink and a good dinner. What an extraordinary experience, Philip. Will you ever forget it? Haven't you? Nonsense. It was a perfectly natural mistake. It wouldn't happen to anyone. Oh, I suppose. Oh, Philip, look out!
What the blithering... What are you doing muddling out in the middle of the roadway like that? Don't you know you can get killed that way? Philip, don't be cross. The poor old thing. Poor old thing, my... I've given you a bit of a start, I'm afraid. Never mind, young man. You live through it. Hello. Does he belong to you? In a manner of speaking. Well, I stopped your car because I'm lost.
I'm trying to find number 11 Reading River Road. And the cab took me to another empty house on Reading Place. And there were policemen there. And they asked the cab driver where the body was. Ha, ha, ha, ha.
And he was so scared, he took off. Oh, he was guilty. Guilty, guilty. You can tell that. He should never have done it. But he did. And he left me to my fate. At the wrong address.
Oh, but the police was very kind. They always are, you know. And they brought me to the right road. And suddenly, the storm passed over. Oh, I was sorry to see it go. But I told them to just
Let me find the house myself. You know, it's not fair to take up their time when they should be keeping law and order. But it's so dark. And it's so long since I was around here last. Do you know where number 11 is? Yes, it's right here. But I don't think you should go in there now. Oh. Philip. Well, do you think she should? I mean, they're expecting her. Oh.
There's no one expecting me, dearie. The house is vacated, except for one room. I call it Bluebeard's room. Ha, ha, ha.
Ta-ta, my dears. I won't be in the dark once I'm inside. It's just a matter of pulling the switch. Pulling the switch. I think they'll pull a switch on you, you old witch. Come on, let's go. Come here.
Uh, you, uh, you don't think she killed the policewoman Dodds, do you? What do you think? Oh, she was such a darling. I think that would be an absolute crime. An absolute crime? Oh, Mr. Philip, how funny. Oh, and I got it. That's good. I think, Philip, I've started to develop a sense of humor. Yeah, that's fine. There hasn't been completely wasted then. Oh, Philip, it really has been, you know.
Never mind. We'll find the right house tomorrow, I expect. And I'll tell you this. It's the last time I buy a house. Sight unseen.
From Vancouver, you have been listening to... Pulling the switch. Pulling the switch. Oh, excuse me. Oh, but first I'll take a peek in the bluebeard's room. Oh, I'm a suspicious old character. Gladys? Gladys, it's your old mom. Mrs. Dobbs. Ah, you didn't expect me, did you?
Tut, tut, tut. Tut, tut, tut, Mrs. Dodd. You know very well, Inspector. Our Gladys is on that bed in an hypnotic state and likely to be so all night. Gladys is a girl, sir. Although she's on the force, sir, and although you may fire her, sir, I'll say it, sir.
You are a man. What nonsense. Don't deny it, sir. At a time like this, Gladys needs her mum. Mrs. Dodds. I... Now, that talks to Mrs. Dodds. And duck under the bed, Mrs. Dodds. Quick. Yes, sir. Yes. Oh, it's dark. There's someone sneaking through the house, sir. Uh-huh. And feel yourself behind the big curtain feast. Right you are, Chief.
♪♪
♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪
Sight Unseen by Dorothy Davies. The part of Philip Scott was played by Peter Howarth. Angelica Scott was played by Judy Armstrong. The Chief by Roy Brinson. The Beast by Douglas Campbell. Policewoman Dodds by Linda Sorensen. And The Little Old Lady by Ray Brown.
Mystery Theater was produced this week in the Vancouver studios of the CBC. With sound effects by Lars Eastholm and technical operations by Gene Loverock. Direction, Don Mowat.
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 FINREN 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 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. ♪
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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 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
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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. Wheaties presents Nightbeat. Nightbeat.
On stage tonight from Hollywood, Nightbeat, another in the Wheaties' big parade of exciting half-hour presentations. Nightbeat. Hi, this is Randy Stone. I cover the Nightbeat for the Chicago Star. Stories begin in many different ways. This one began with a strange little man who claimed a most remarkable power, the power to kill with his mind. Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy as Randy Stone. Nightbeat.
Suppose you were a kernel of wheat instead of people listening to the radio. Why, you'd have about as much chance of getting to be a Wheaties flake as you have right now to be president. Actually, less than 2% of all the kernels of wheat that hope to be Wheaties when they grow up ever set flake in a Wheaties box. That's how fussy the Wheaties folks are. Whole wheat for Wheaties has to be golden, perfect whole wheat. And when you buy Wheaties, that's what you get. Perfect whole wheat with all its nourishment.
Of course, people, no matter who they are, can eat Wheaties, breakfast of champions. All they want, any time. That includes you. Have some. Tell your grocer we sent you. It was one of those lousy moods I had. Spring in the air, five o'clock in the afternoon, and nothing ahead of me except another day's work. A broken leg and a month in bed. I should be so lucky. I started to walk down Michigan Boulevard.
By the time I reached the art museum, I hated the whole world. Everybody was going home and I was going to work. So, like a school kid playing hooky, I turned into a patch of grass landscaping the museum. And I sat down on a bench. The other end of the bench was a little old guy. He was thin as Melba toast and he was staring at a pigeon perched on the fountain. I was beginning to feel persecuted like I was the only one in the whole wide city who had to go to work.
In a nice, lazy kind of way, I was beginning to wish I was... Dead. I wish you were dead. At first, I didn't know where the voice came from. There was no one in back of me. There was no one around except the little guy at the other end of the bench. There. I did it again. You know, that's not a very nice thing to say to somebody you don't even know. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think you heard me. Oh, certainly I heard you. Why would you wish a thing like that on me? Oh, but I didn't mean you. Not at all.
Because if I did, you would now be dead. You mean I would be dead? It's terrible. Just terrible. Well, if it wasn't me you just said that to, then who was it? The pigeon. Pigeon? The one that was on the fountain. I see. And what happened to the pigeon? He died. The pigeon died? Oh, yes. It'll happen every time. I'll get the bird and show you. Yes, yes.
It's dead, all right. You see? Perfectly dead. Oh, now look, Mr... Fentel is my name. Yeah, Stone is mine. Randy Stone. And I guess I'll be running along. Oh, I thought perhaps you could help me, Mr. Stone. You look like the kind of person who would understand. Yeah, yeah. I'm the harmless type that's always walking into a confession. Well, you see, it's something I...
Can't tell to just anyone. Yeah, well, some other time. I'll be seeing you. That's the way it is. Everybody's interested in only themselves. Well, get rid of that bird. It's not very pleasant sitting next to someone holding a dead thing in his hands. Oh, of course. If I put it over there under the bush, would you listen to me? Maybe if I talked about it, it might help.
You're not a policeman, are you? Oh, no, no, no. I'm a newspaper man. Oh, that's good. Yeah, get rid of the bird. And then you'll listen to me? Yeah, I'll listen to you. Oh, that's very good of you, Mr. Stone. I'll just put it down over here. He was a cute little old guy who didn't seem to fit into a world of airplanes and the Geiger counter. He was still wearing a white celluloid collar and a tarnished diamond stick pin and a black tie. He was as clean as grandmother's old lace and just as faded.
His white hair bulged from an old fedora hat and his eyebrows looked like the prank of a makeup artist. They were untouched by age and they were strawberry red. I was already feeling sorry for him and I knew if I could, I was going to help him. He put the bird under the bush and then he looked down at it and sighed. I didn't mean to do it. Sure, sure, I understand. Now, what's bothering you? You see, I killed that bird simply by looking at it and saying that I wished it were dead.
Oh, I see. You wished it was dead and it died. You heard me, didn't you? You wouldn't think a thing like that was possible, would you? Well, I don't know. If I remember correctly, there was this fellow King Midas. He had a pretty good thing, too. All he had to do was touch something and it turned into gold. Of course, that was only a fairy tale. You're not poking fun at me, Mr. Stone. You're not implying that I made this up. I don't get touchy. It's pretty hard to get used to.
All you have to do is wish a bird is dead and it dies. Anything. A bird or even a person. And they die. Well, that's quite a power you got. You don't believe me, do you? You ought to get a hold of yourself, don't you think? I know I shouldn't have said anything at all. All right, all right. Now, let's say I believe you. What do you expect me to do? I'm getting afraid of myself.
I can become dangerous. Well, don't wish those things and you won't be dangerous. But if I ever hate like I once did, then I'm not responsible. The words would just come out. It would happen. You mean you could wish I was dead or anybody and they'd die? That's what I've been trying to tell you.
I don't want to hurt anybody, Mr. Stone. You still don't believe me. Oh, I think it's a perfectly wonderful story. Now I got to go. Oh, please don't go. Don't leave me, Mr. Stone, please. Take your hands off my coat. Do you mind? I want to go to work. But listen, I killed a man. Oh? I killed Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown? Arthur E. Brown, president of the Utilities Loan Company. Uh-huh. You, uh, you killed him.
I was the one. It was the urgency and the way he wrung his hands together that got me. I felt pretty foolish sitting there on a park bench listening to the most fantastic kind of nonsense. For 40 years, he worked for this company. He never married. He lived a lonely life. The only pleasure he had was his job. But he was getting old. And then one day, it was on a Friday, he got his paycheck from the head bookkeeper. Thank you. Thank you.
But this is a mistake, a terrible mistake, Miss Johnson. This check is too much. Let me see. Oh, I don't think so, Mr. Fettel. Oh, but that's three weeks' pay. Two weeks more than I've got coming. It's not my vacation, you know. I always take mine in July. Yes, I know, Mr. Fettel. Then you'd better rectify it, Miss Johnson. I'm sorry no one told you. On the back of the check, Mr. Fettel, that slip of paper. Oh? You mean this? Mm-hmm. Why...
That's a... That's a two weeks notice. Oh, that's a terrible mistake. I hope so, Mr. Fetal. Such a stupid thing. Imagine my being here so long. Everybody knows. I better see Smitty about this right away. Smitty's been transferred to the Ohio branch. Since when? Five weeks ago, Mr. Fetal. Oh. Well, then I'll see the new fellow. I don't like to embarrass him, but I must bring this to his attention. Oh.
I'm sorry, Mr. Fettle, but you don't understand. You're new here. Yes, Mr. Fettle, but there's nothing I can do. Well, I'll have to go to someone who can. Who is it that's over you? Well, you might try one of the vice presidents. Oh.
Of course, Mr. Fettel, you realize I had no idea. Why don't you see the treasurer? I'm really quite sorry, Mr. Fettel. But really, it's out of my hands. I see. No one will take the responsibility. No one cares. Sending me from one to the other like I was some kind of thing being volleyed about.
I'm going to the president. I'll tell Mr. Brown. Mr. Fettel went up another flight of stairs running right through a whole pool of minor executives straight into Mr. Brown's office. Brown was sitting there in an enormous leather chair. A very huge, fat man. His face was red and puffy.
Instead of breathing, he seemed to gasp. He was that mad when Mr. Fettle walked in unannounced. What are you doing in my office? Mr. Brown, I just had to see you. There seems to be no one to take the responsibility for this. You see, I've been here so many years. They just don't seem to realize how long I've been here. I wanted you to straighten it out for me. Get out of here! But it's so unfair! Get out! I said get out of here! Get out!
The hatred had been piling up and Mr. Fettel had now found a target. He looked Brown squarely in the eyes and said it right to his face, right out loud. I wish you were dead. You what? I wish you were dead. He's dead. Somebody, quick! Mr. Brown is dead! Mr. Brown is dead!
General Mills is bringing you Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy as Randy Stone. We know a youngster who asks the kind of questions you have to put the paper down to answer. So the boy wants to know, do the baseball champions really eat Wheaties like it says in the ads? Really? Honest? Well, honest they do. Bill Rizzuto eats Wheaties. Jackie Robinson eats Wheaties. B. Wee Reese eats Wheaties. Tommy Henrich and Luke Appling and Ellis Kinder eat Wheaties. Honest.
What's more, a lot of these stars of the game today have eaten Wheaties for years. Bob Feller, the Cleveland pitcher, is almost a 20-year man. Right today, Bob eats Wheaties four to five times a week. He likes them with berries, which is a pretty good way to have Wheaties, too. Now, Bob says, Wheaties is the only cereal I ever eat, and I'd recommend it to anyone. So, you see, we really have an excellent reason for calling Wheaties Breakfast of Champions. Any other questions? ♪♪
And now, back to Nightbeat and Randy Stone. Sure, we've all thought about the idea at some time or other in our lives. We could look at another person and wish he were dead and bingo, it would happen. But then we all grew up and we forgot about it. But here was this little old guy, Mr. Fettel, who not only believed this phenomenon about himself, but was determined to prove it to me.
That's what I get for stopping on a park bench when I should have been on my way to the paper. So you see, Mr. Stone, that's how it all started that day in the office. Well, don't worry about it, Mr. Fettle. Coincidence. I wish you were right. But what about the flies? How about it? What about them? I'd hold them in my hand and say it. And then they'd stop buzzing and keep real still.
Dead. Oh, you're taking yourself too seriously. Stop squeezing flies to death and stop telling yourself you're Superman. But what about the bird? It was perched on the fountain. I wasn't even near him. And I looked at him and I said it. And then, just like that, it fell to the ground. Dead. First it's Mr. Brown, then it's squeezing the flies, and finally the pigeon. Oh, go on home, Mr. Fretil. Go on home before I begin wishing you were dead. I knew I shouldn't have told you. Now I don't know where to turn...
I've got the strangest feeling. A terrible need to test everything. Just to go around wishing things were dead. I'm sorry I took up your time, Mr. Dobbins. What's that? Wait a minute, Mr. Fiddle. That kid over there. Hey, Jerry, you've been here. I found him. Uh-huh. See that boy with the BB gun? See him? How's that? If I can prove you didn't kill that bird, will you go home and forget about the whole thing?
Those boys are... They're picking up the bird. They shouldn't do that. Hey, kid. What? What are you doing with the BB gun? Nothing. You shot that bird, didn't you? It was an accident. Honest, mister. We didn't mean nothing. Come here now. Bring it over here. Run, Jerry, run. He's gonna get us in the car. Hey, come here. I'm not gonna do anything. Come here. Well, they're gone and they took the bird. But now you know, Mr. Fettle, it wasn't you.
The kid did it with the BB gun, okay? You mean they thought they did it. I see. Okay, so you want to believe you did it. It makes you feel important, doesn't it? Important? Yeah, it gives you a feeling of power, doesn't it? Oh, no, Mr. Stone. I feel like a murderer. Well, if you feel that way, why don't you turn yourself in to the police? I thought of that.
But I'm not a stupid man. They either laugh at me or put me in an institution. And I'm not insane, Mr. Stone. Well, I'd like to help you, but I don't know what I can do to convince you. I can't sleep. I haven't eaten. And I'm in no condition to look for work. Oh, look, Mr. Fettel, we're going to put a stop to this nonsense right now. It's getting late. I've got to go to work. Before I go, I'm going to settle this once and for all. Oh, anything you did, I'd appreciate. All right. Now, here I am sitting right next to you, right? Yes. All right.
And now I'm standing up. See, I'm healthy. Nothing wrong with me. Right? Well, of course. Now look at me. I don't think I understand. Just keep looking at me. Well? All right, go ahead now. Wish that I was dead. Mr. Stone, why should I do anything like that to you? You want to be able to go home and get a good night's sleep? You want to be able to eat and start living like a human being again? All right, go ahead. Wish I was dead. Why?
I won't do it. I won't. Because you're a liar, aren't you? Don't say that. You're a liar, Mr. Fettle. You're a liar. Keep away from me, please. I don't want anything to happen to you. Anything to hang on to your little fantasy. Anything to sit here in the park and keep someone talking to you. You're lonely, Mr. Fettle, and you're a little bit nutty, if you ask me. Don't make me do it. Please, Mrs. Stone. Don't get near me that way. Then say it. I said say it. Despite myself, the sweat was beginning to bubble on my forehead.
I could feel the back of my shirt getting wet. I could have kicked myself up and down State Street for being sucked into this old man's stupid little nightmare. But there I was like a Madison Street mooch insisting that the guy prove it, not to himself anymore, but to me. Go ahead, Mr. Fettel, say it. Please don't make me, Mr. Stone. He cringed away from me now, and his back was pressing up against a tree, and I kept following him. As I got closer to him, he had no other place to run to.
And he stood there with the most peculiar expression in his eyes. All right, Mr. Stone. But it's not my fault, understand? I don't want to do it, understand? I understand. Now say it. Please forgive me, Mr. Stone, but you're making me. Isn't that right? You're making me say it? Well, say it and get it over with. I wish... I wish... you... were... I can't. I can't. I just can't. There's no use pretending I wasn't relieved.
I felt both frightened and silly playing this little game. I just couldn't do it to you, Mr. Stone. I'm not angry. I've gotten to know you and like you. It's become so personal. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. As he talked, his eyes became fixed on the building opposite the park. It was a tall building and way up high, about the 18th story, there was a man up there washing windows.
You see that up there? You see him? With the window washer? There's nothing personal about him, is there? Just a speck crawling on the side of a building watching windows. You're going to start that all over again. Well, there's nothing personal about that. That speck up there, is there? Now, look, you're not going to drive me batting. Well, if you'll only believe me, I'll try to show you. You mean with the window washer? He's pretty far away, and it's so impersonal, and, well, it's...
It may not work. Of course it won't work. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Well, I mean my not knowing him. Maybe I have to know the person or be real close. Maybe I have to have an argument with the person or not like him. Yeah, yeah, like the pigeon. Oh, that was different. I actually looked into the pigeon's eyes and he looked at me.
And that's when I said it. Oh, why don't you go home and go to bed? Read a good book. Forget about yourself. You're going? That's right. Oh, wait. I'll do it. I stood there watching him. He stared at the man on the 18th floor for a long time. As the man started to change his safety belt to move from one window ledge to the next, just as he took off one rope from the bolt in the window frame, Mr. Fettel started to whisper. Wish you dead. It all happened in a split second then.
The moment he said it, the man on the window ledge lost his balance. First, the bucket came clattering to the ground. And then, the man hung suspended, dangling by one rope and clawing at the air to get back on the ledge. And then the rope broke. When it happened, I ran over to the building and got what few facts were available. The item appeared in the late edition, about ten lines on page eight. Naturally, I said nothing of the little old man on the park bench, or they would have thought I was as insane as I felt the little guy to be.
But I couldn't get the amazing Mr. Fettle out of my mind. When I started to feel that I, in some weird manner, were indirectly responsible for the window washer's death, then I knew I was involved up to my neck. I went downstairs to the newspaper library. I found the item I was looking for. Arthur E. Brown, president of the Utilities Loan Association, had succumbed to a heart attack and was pronounced dead upon the arrival of his personal physician, George Watkins. The first thing next morning, I went to see Dr. Watkins.
I'll be glad to give you whatever information you want, Mr. Stone, but I'm also rather curious as to your reasons. Well, in a very general way, I'm interested in certain types of death. Oh, coronary, heart fatalities? You might call it that. What is it you wanted to know? Well, as I understand it, there was someone present in Mr. Brown's office at the time he died. I believe so. One of his employees. I'm wondering if this man could have in any way brought on the heart attack. It's possible. But that particular day, not at all probable. Why not?
Mr. Brown had complained of a severe constriction across the chest, and his secretary had already called me before that man was in his office. In fact, I was on my way over to his office before he succumbed. Mr. Brown's secretary was in the first aid room getting him some medicine. You mean Brown was already dying before the man even got into the office? Mr. Brown was already dying of the effects of an extraordinary lunch. With the kind of heart condition he had, his death was just as inevitable as tomorrow's sunrise. ♪
It couldn't be any plainer than that. Coincidence number one had been taken care of quite neatly. But that window washer still had to be dealt with. For a man who'd been washing windows for so many years to slip off the windowsill and then for the rope to break right at the time my amazing Mr. Fettle wished he were dead, well, that's a pretty touchy thing to reconcile the coincidence.
I went back to the building and located the engineer who was in the basement replacing a steam valve on the hot water tank. At first, he wasn't very cooperative. I suppose you're another insurance man who wants to know more about why we don't have safety measures for our window washers. No, no, no, no. I just happened to be a newspaper man who was sitting in the park when it happened. Well, if you saw it, you know more about it than I do. He worked for you, didn't he? Yeah, that's right. Well, what happened? Why should that man's rope break? Huh?
I'm tired of answering questions. That's all I've been doing is asking questions. Now, look, mister, I'm not here to make trouble for you. I don't want to give you any bad publicity. I want to know why it happened, but, of course, if you don't want to tell me, then I've got to believe that the building was responsible. If I warned him once, I warned him a hundred times. His equipment was rotted through.
I told him he couldn't go to work on my building unless he bought new ropes. He was pretty sore, but he went home. At least I thought he went home. What happened was he got lost in one of the bars on Clark Street, and when he was good and drunk, he came back. Without me knowing it, he went to work. He was drunk, that's what he was. It was nobody's fault but his own. If it wasn't for the fact that somebody else had suffered, the whole thing would have been funny. It was the most ironic joke that coincidence could play.
on a pathetic old man who thought he had some kind of strange power, and on me, a sucker for anybody's story if they insist they've got one. I got Mr. Fettel's address from Miss Johnson at the place he used to work and went over to see him. He lived in an old boarding house. His landlady was a nice old gray-haired woman that was as interested in knowing where he could be found as I was. He hasn't been home since yesterday, and that's not like him. Fifteen years he's lived here.
And he never spent a night away from home. But does he have any relatives or friends that he could have gone to? Not a soul, sir. The loneliest man I ever knew. But the nicest. Why, he just wouldn't hurt a soul. Well, I've got to find him. Oh, well, something's wrong, isn't there? No, no, oh, no, no. I've got a pretty important message for him, and it'll make things a lot easier on him when I tell him.
I see. Can't you tell me? No, no, it's rather personal. Here's my number, though. You can reach me at the office. No matter what time he gets in, if you have any regard for him at all, please call me. I certainly will, sir. And nobody has better regard for him than I have. You know, he's been getting awful thin lately.
Yes, you'd think a man wouldn't starve himself just because he was out of work. Now, would you, sir? Well, you call me. It'll be a lot different after I talk to him. I went to the office by way of Bug House Square. I inquired here and there about an old gent with the white hair and the strawberry-colored eyebrows. They knew who he was all right, but they hadn't seen him. I was getting worried about him. A nice little guy somewhere in the city running away from himself, thinking he was a dangerous killer.
When I got to the office, there were no messages. I put my feet on the desk and I waited. Then I started to do my column with coincidence playing the villain. I got halfway through, put my feet back on the desk and dozed off. Two o'clock in the morning, the phone rang. Yeah? Mr. Stone? Speaking. He just came in, just now. Who? Mr. Fetter. Oh, okay, okay, thank you. I'm coming right over.
When I got to the house, she was waiting and had the door open before I could ring the bell. Is he in bed? No, Mr. Stone. He's sitting in his easy chair. His room upstairs? It's no use going up there, Mr. Stone. Well, what's wrong? Well, as soon as I called you, I put some soup on the stove. You see, I wanted him to have something hot to eat. I knocked on his door, but, well, he didn't answer.
I opened it and he was sitting in the easy chair. Before I got to him, his eyes went up at the ceiling. Then they closed and his head rolled on his chest. He was dead. I can't understand it. He wasn't sick. He was unhappy, but he wasn't sick. It doesn't make much difference now what he was. Poor soul. That's all that happened? Just what you told me? He didn't say anything? Well, he...
He mumbles something, but it's not worth repeating. What? I want to know. Some sort of foolishness, Mr. Stone. Well, tell me. I've got to know. I'm sure I heard it wrong. Well, what was it that he said? Well, as his eyes were on the ceiling, it seemed to me... Now, sir, I can be wrong, you know. But it seemed to me that he said...
I wish I was dead. Sitting on a park bench in the warm sun doesn't always lead to peace of mind. Not if you happen to be a harmless little guy who draws the ace of spades every time he makes a wish. Of course, we know that everything that happened was just coincidence. We all know things like this don't happen. You know, like the flying saucer. Copy, boy.
You are listening to Nightbeat on the Wheaties Big Parade. It's always nice if you like your work, which is why we feel we're pretty lucky to be in the Wheaties business. We love Wheaties, and we love people. We know that these little golden flakes of 100% whole wheat are good for people. So what could be more pleasant work than getting people and Wheaties together just as often as we can? Your grocer knows about Wheaties and people.
See him, why don't you? Nightbeat, starring Frank Lovejoy, is produced and directed by Warren Lewis and edited by Larry Marcus. Tonight's story was written by David Peltz, with music by Frank Wirth. The part of Mr. Fettle was played by Bill Johnstone. Others in tonight's cast were Joan Banks, Martha Wentworth, Harley Bear, Charles Seal, Stan Farrar, and Jeffrey Silver.
Listen next week at this same time and every week as Randy Stone searches through the city for the strange stories waiting for him in the darkness. And this is your Wheaties man, Frank Martin, inviting you to listen also on Wednesday night to Brian Donlevy in Dangerous Assignment on the Wheaties Big Parade. See you then.
Going to bake a pie sometime soon? Make it with Crust Quick, the Betty Crocker pie crust mix. You know, it's a tender, flaky crust that's at the bottom of every delicious pie, sure as you use Crust Quick. And so easy. Just add water to Crust Quick. Mmm, and what pie crust? Tender crust, tasty crust, rich, short, lovely crust, just like Betty Crocker makes.
And you can make it. Just add water to Crust Quick. Crust Quick, the Betty Crocker pie crust mix. Nightbeat came to you from Hollywood with portions transcribed. Stay tuned for Christopher London over most NBC stations.
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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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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