HE STOLE THE SECRET TO IMMORTALITY: and More #RetroRadio Stories! EP0272 #WeirdDarkness
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Ah!

The Black Museum. Affiliated stations present Escape. Dinner Sanctum. My presents. Suspense. I am the Whistler.

Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness' Retro Radio. Here I have the privilege of bringing you some of the best dark, creepy, and macabre old-time radio shows ever created. 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. Since the beginning of time, men have been consumed with the curiosity about their past.

The customs, beliefs, and lifestyles of our ancestors are significant signposts along the road leading to the discovery of the origins of man. Man's diligent search for clues to his beginnings has taken us to the far corners of the earth, under the seven seas, and to the burial of ancient civilizations. Engaged in this ceaseless quest have been men of science, men of goodwill,

Men with a zest for adventure and rogues with a lust for gold. If this likeness of me, Tupac Amaru, be violated by plunderers, then will the wrath of the Icocha bring to them a swift and certain doom which will pursue them to their graves.

and beyond. But I've come here to this temple and to you for help. We've got to help Nancy. For the woman you love, there can be no help. If she keeps the mask of Tupac Amaru, she is doomed forever. Ah!

Our mystery drama, The Mask of Tupac Amaru, was written especially for the Mystery Theater by Murray Burnett and stars Ruby Dee and Michael Wager. It is sponsored in part by Anheuser-Busch Incorporated, Brewers of Budweiser, and Sinoff, the sinus medicines. I'll be back shortly with Act One. Act One

Man's preoccupation with the mystery of death and the possibility of life hereafter has made graveyards a favorite setting for eerie stories of the supernatural. Graveyards have also been the site of archaeological explorations to satisfy man's curiosity about his past. Our tale involves an archaeological expedition to the

the grave of a legendary hero of the Incas, and an ancient curse. However, it couldn't have a more modern setting for a start. The elegant lobby of the luxurious Hotel Savoy in Cusco, Peru. Nancy! Nancy! Carlos!

What are you doing in Peru? No, don't answer. Your being here at this time makes everything perfect. Darling, you've made me so happy, I'm afraid something's going to happen to spoil it. You're so right. I can't wait to tell you what's been... What do you mean? I visited the dig, and I was happy to see that no one had been in the grave yet. Nancy, you're not to go into that grave.

I can't believe what I'm hearing. I've just finished a press conference and Professor Brady practically gave me the entire credit for discovering the grave site. And the man I'm going to marry tells me I'm not to go into the grave. Professor Brady didn't do you any favor when he handed the credit to you. All right, Carlos. It's obvious you didn't come here because you missed your fiancé or because you wanted to congratulate me on the discovery. So what brought you down? Have you really uncovered the grave of Tupac Amaru? We're not absolutely certain, but...

I really do. You see, this isn't part of the regular dig which we started west of Machu Picchu. It's in the Urubama Valley, but off the tourist track. And one day I saw this indentation and I had a feeling, a strong feeling, and I got permission from the professor to do some digging.

We hadn't got very far before I realized that my hunch was right, and I was on to something tremendous. You don't understand what you've done, do you? Evidently, you don't. I'm going to be famous. Think of it, Carlos. A graduate student stumbling upon... A graduate student who evidently doesn't know much about Incan history. Oh, really? Perhaps you'd like to teach me. Somebody had better. Before you walk into the grave of Tupac Amaro and sign your own death warrant. Oh!

Please stand back. I must insist that anyone not officially connected with this expedition move away from the entrance to the grave. Professor Brady, Professor Brady, I must talk to you. Who are you? Professor, I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Carlos Ucayla. Ucayla? That proud Incan name alone would entitle you to be present at this historic moment.

Professor, I must insist that Nancy doesn't enter the grave of Tupac Amaru. Well, we're not yet certain that this grave is indeed the burial place of Amaru. But there is a chance. I don't understand. This is Nancy's big... He's worried about the curse, Professor. Well, the whole story of Amaru and the curse may very well be a myth. With all due respect, Professor, you're not going to claim that the rebellion Tupac Amaru led was a myth.

Well, certainly not. And his death and savage mutilation at the hands of the Spanish conquerors. An historical fact. But you must be aware that everything after his death is open to question. The whole story of the Incans stealing his mutilated corpse from the Spaniards and burying it secretly along with a curse from the great god Viricocha must be treated as mythology. You can treat it any way you like. But Nancy is not going in there.

Surely I think that should be her decision. Nancy? Of course I'm going. No, you are not. Carlos, you've embarrassed me enough. Now you'll either let me go... or I'll have Senor Alvarado and his policemen put you under arrest. Yes? It's me, Nancy. Please forgive me, Carlos. Nancy, was it the grave of Tupac Amaru? You haven't heard? I've been sitting here in my room thinking...

Carlos, it was. And in the grave was the most magnificent death mask I've ever seen. Do you realize what this is going to mean to me? Do you? You're still angry because of the rotten way I behaved, but I've already asked you to forgive me, and if you do, I'll forgive you. Forgive me? For what? For being a silly, superstitious idiot. There was nothing inscribed on the mask? Of course there was.

Superb hieroglyphic writing. Did you translate it? Well, not completely. It's in Huechuan. And I was wondering if you'd give us some help with the translation. Here's a copy I made. I don't...

Won't have anything to do with it. Carlos, please, for my sake. You know, ever since you came here, I have the feeling I'm not talking to Carlos Ucayla, but to a stubborn Incan Indian desperately clinging to beliefs that were exploded 500 years ago. I don't like the idea of your being in danger. Oh, come off it, Carlos. You're far too intelligent to believe in the supernatural power of some words written by some old Indian on a five-century-old death mask.

To say you believe that is... It's the height of idiocy. You have no fear of words written on the most sacred relic in Incan history. Give me the paper. Thank you, Carlos. I appreciate it. I'd rather not take thanks for this. If this likeness be violated by plunderers, then will the wrath of Viricocha bring to them a swift and certain doom which will pursue them to their graves and beyond.

Really impressive, isn't it? Are you enough impressed so that you'll return the mask? Carlos, you know very well that's not possible. It now belongs to the government. It belongs to the people who made it. And I swear by whatever God you want to believe in, that I'm going to give it back to them and save you, in spite of yourself. Who are you?

What do you mean by coming into my room? How did you get... Softly, Professor Brady. Here is my card. And accept my apologies for the intrusion. Francisco Fortune. That's obviously not your name. And whatever it is you're selling, I'm not buying, so get out. As a scientist, Professor Brady, you should know better than to leap to conclusions. I'm not a seller. I'm a buyer. Then you're certainly in the wrong room.

I have nothing to sell. Once again, an erroneous conclusion. How about the death mask of Tupac Amaru? You're here to ask me to sell you the mask? You must be a madman. Aren't all collectors slightly mad? If you're really a collector, you would know that you're wasting your time. My dear professor, courtesy requires that you hear me out. What?

Put that gun away. As you see, it has a silencer. But I do require your attention, and I intend to get it. Go ahead. Good. I'm determined to have the mask of Tupac Amaru. I will, of course, pay for it. You know very well that the theft of the mask will set off shockwaves of earthquake proportion. Any participation by me of such a scheme, no matter how remote...

would be discovered and my life would be ruined. No, I would never allow that to happen. You couldn't prevent it. If I can prove to you that I can, would you go along with the deal? I believe I've already given you my answer. I have something to show you that may make you change your mind. Oh, not the gun. No, no, no.

Some art object which had been created by an employee of mine. Now, with your permission, I'll ask him in. Topa! Professor, this is Topa, a pure-blooded Incan. How do you do? Unfortunately, he's mute. But, Professor, he speaks with his hands. Ah!

May I answer the phone? Of course. But remember, I still have this gun. Hello? Professor. Speaking. This is Kyla. You remember we met at the gravesite? Of course. Nancy's young man. Can I help you? Can we meet? You mean now? As soon as possible. What do you wish to see me about? Oh, yes. You were deeply worried about the curse. Talk to you about it. Well, give me a ring tomorrow at the office. Professor Brady couldn't.

I'm afraid not. Call me. Before we were interrupted, you were telling me about Topa. Oh, yes, yes. I'm saying that Topa is a genius. He makes replicas of works of art that simply cannot be distinguished from the originals. You mean he's a forger? No, you can't use the word forger for Topa's work.

You won't have to take my word for it. He's brought samples along. Topa, open your knapsack and show the professor some of your things. I assume you wouldn't have gone to all this trouble unless you had a buyer. I'm happy to see that your thinking has become more positive. You deserve an honest answer. At the moment, I have no buyer.

Oh, yes, Topa, that's a good choice. I'm sure the professor will recognize that figurine. I certainly do. The original is in the Larco Herrera Museum in Lima. May I have it? Go on, give it to the professor, Topa. Let him examine it as closely as he likes. A remarkable piece of work. Topa, I think the necklace with the hollow gold beads should be next. That's right, hold it up.

I don't have to examine it closely. Surely you recognize this fox head? It is of gold, copper and silver alloy, exactly like the mask of Tupac Amaru. I know it. It's in the Lynn Museum in Stuttgart. I am impressed. Thank you. Not with you, with Topa. You're right. He is an artist.

I don't have to see any more. I'm not interested. There is one more piece of Topaz I want you to see. Topaz, please, the head of Atuahalpa. Hand it over. There. Now, Professor, what do you think of that? But this is no forgery. This is genuine. This is a real head of Atuahalpa.

May I congratulate you on your expertise, Professor? And now let me point out that for years, you and the world have believed the copy in the Marmaron Museum to have been genuine. Yes, but... Exactly. I'm sure you see now that we can do business together without you running the slightest risk. Thank you.

Tangled webs of deception are unfortunately not unknown in the art world. Greed has been such a powerful motive that many collectors have chosen to dismiss as nonsense the curses that ancient civilizations have laid down to protect their treasures. Some have proven false and some have exacted a terrible and tragic price. I shall be back in a moment with Act Two. Music

The discovery of the long-sought grave and death mask of Tupac Amaru, legendary Incan hero, has electrified the art world. It has also brought Professor Brady an unwelcome visitor, a self-acknowledged art thief who calls himself Francisco Fortune, and his Incan employee, a mute named Topa.

Fortune has placed before Professor Brady an ingenious scheme for stealing the mask of Tupac Amaru. Well, Professor, what do you think now? I acknowledge that Tupac is a genius and you're a resourceful thief, but I am neither. So I wish you gentlemen good night. Think, Professor. You're going to photograph the mask. One photograph.

A well-lit close-up is all that Topher needs to make a replica that cannot be told from the original. Then, a quick substitution by you. No one is the wiser, and you're $25,000 richer. Topher seems to be saying that he cannot do it. What? Look at him. He's shaking his head, and I think he's saying no. Am I right, Topher? Topher will do as I say. I think not.

I believe Topa's more afraid of the curse of Viricocha than he is of you. Topa, do you remember the people who tore out your tongue and made you mute? Yes, I see you do. You know that these people are still very angry with you. Just think what they would do to you

If I told them, you were no longer useful to me. Oh, stop torturing him, Fortune. It's not going to make any difference in my decision. Well, I was merely showing you, Professor, that everything can be arranged. You will make the mask for me, Topa. Ha, ha, ha, fine. You see, Professor, in order to get what you want, all you have to know is the pressure points.

There's no pressure you can exert. That would make me change my mind. A pity. Come, Topa. Will you leave Professor Brady to dream of the $25,000 he could have had? I have better things to dream of. Oh, by the way, fortune. Yes? Unlike Topa. You seem to have no fear of the curse of Viracocha. I, my dear Professor, I wasn't the one who desecrated the grave of Tupac Amaru.

It was you, Professor. And if there really is something to the curse, I think you'd be the one who fears. Professor Brady's office. It's a worry this morning. I went... Oh, I'm sorry, but I had to rush here because the professor went out to the dig. No, no, the other dig. He still has hopes for something there, and he's been neglecting it. I should have left word, but...

Oh, he told me you were going to call and he asked me to handle it. You can call Brady a lot of things, but hardly that. When? I'm sorry, darling, but the professor left me to mind the store and... Okay, okay. Carlos. Carlos, oh, Carlos. Nancy, I don't want any arguments, no objections. Just get your jacket on and come with me. We're getting married.

Oh, wow. You mean today? No, tomorrow back in L.A. I've made all the arrangements by phone, and I don't mind telling you they cost a fortune. Then I'm sorry you wasted your money. Does that mean you don't want to marry me? Oh, Carlos, stop playing games. I have to do something to get you out of Peru. So you decided I was a lovesick little girl who'd be so delighted by the idea of being Mrs. Carlos Ucayla, I'd forget everything else and jump on the first plane out of here. Okay, what will get you on a plane?

My own ticket. It's dated two weeks from today. Where, uh... Where's the mask? It's in the safe behind me. May I see it? Why do you want to see it? Curiosity. I'll never have an opportunity to get this close to it again. It'll be locked away behind glass in the National Museum, surrounded by a guard. Oh, darling, I do love you. What brings that up? Oh, I love you because you're so darn good-looking and also because you're so transparent. Oh.

I love you, too. But how about letting me see the mask? So you can snatch it out of my hand, run out of here and take it to... Where would you take it, Carlos? The idea never occurred to me, but I think about it, it's not bad. It's the lesser of two evils. You're talking about the curse. What else?

I know what's happened to you, darling. Believe me, I know and I understand. I don't need understanding. I need you to open your mind. We both want the same thing, then. I'll promise to keep mine open if you open yours. To what? To the realization that you've come back to the country of your ancestors. You're surrounded by the culture of centuries...

The whole atmosphere affects you. It affects me, and I don't have ancestors here. If you understand that, then you... then you understand how I feel about the curse. Of course I understand, but that doesn't mean I believe in it. Why not?

You can't understand how a primitive people ever managed to construct a sanctuary like Machu Picchu. But the fact is they did. And it still stands so... You, so, you want me to discard my heritage of scientific knowledge and become a fear-ridden, superstitious fool running from a meaningless curse? In other words, you believe in everything Incan, except their religion. Religion is one thing. Superstition, another. Superstition.

You wish to see me, senor? You are the vilakumu of this temple? You do me too much, honor. I am a priest, and I am in charge. But alas, these noblest of priests, the vilakumus, were wiped out a few years after the conquest. May I have your name? Carlos Ucayla. I am Manco Huayna. Welcome to the temple, brother.

I hope I will still be welcome when you hear what brings me to you. The death mask of Tupac Amaru. You... you know? The whole world knows. Why shouldn't we? Although I'm an American, you called me brother. I... I expect that you will talk with me as such. I need your help. To protect your beloved? Exactly. Suppose... suppose I somehow manage to have the mask returned. Brought to you, perhaps, would...

Would that have any effect on the curse? You know as well as I that forgiveness will be granted by Vinicocha and only by him. Thanks. That's all I wanted to hear. One moment. Where are you going? To see Professor Brady. If I can talk to him, I'm sure I can make him see the truth. In that case, you'd better hurry. I've been informed that the professor was taken to the hospital a few hours ago.

My name is Dr. Johannes Schmidt. I'm in charge of this hospital. And before I turn you over to the police, I'm giving you an opportunity to explain your actions. How very kind of you, doctor. But before you do any turning over to the police, let me inform you that if you do, I'll sue you and this hospital for every... I'm trying to be helpful, but... Then give me Professor Brady's room number and a pass.

In your present state, I wouldn't permit you to visit any patient in this hospital. But I can save Professor Brady's life. Are you a physician? Oh, good grief. While we sit here talking, Brady is dying. The professor was admitted because he suffered a bad gash on his foot when he was bathing this morning. A slight infection set in and it was thought best to hospitalize him. His heart...

Hardly, darling. Is that why no visitors are permitted? You still haven't told me that you're a doctor. That's immaterial. Professor Brady is being punished for plundering the grave of Tupac Amaro. Fascinating theory. If I could talk with Professor Brady for ten minutes, only ten minutes, I think I could make him see that there's only one way to save himself. Hasn't he already brought Saras of God down upon him by taking the death mask? But if...

If he returned it, gave it back to the Incans, he would cleanse himself. No. I'm afraid I can't let you see him. Why not? Because you would only upset him. You'd rather have him die. There's very little chance of that. I beseech thee, show your servant, Manko Hoian, the way. Manko. Manko. Oh.

Oh, I beg your pardon. I apologize for interrupting your prayers. Oh, you are forgiven, brother. I was sorry to hear that you failed. I was never given the chance to fail. Professor Brady died while I was trying to get the doctor to let me see him. Perhaps it was willed that way by Viricocha. Well, whatever it was, it's going to be a powerful argument to persuade Nancy to do the right thing about the mask.

You have not yet spoken with her? I can't find her. Hotel says she went out. She never showed up at the hospital. I checked at both the digs and she hasn't been there. So I came to you. For? Information. I thought you would know where she is. This is a temple, brother. A place of worship. You knew Brady was ill before I did. You'd already heard of his death before I got here. In your eyes, the theft of the mask and the desecration of the grave would justify any action...

Including the kidnapping of an American who despoiled the grave. The coach does not require my help to carry out his judgment. Brother, I beg you, tell me where she is. So that you can then inform the police. You must know that I cannot have the police here. I swear, I won't go to the police. I just want to save that girl.

Would that not be interfering with a just punishment as decreed by Viricocha? I honestly don't know. Isn't it possible that Viricocha led me here and it's his wish that you tell me about the girl? You will find her in the house of number 15 Avenida Arequipa.

It has been said that women are wiser than men because they know more and understand less. Carlos Ucayla is convinced that the girl he loves knows more, but understands less than he does about the power of ancient Incan curses. If he's right, her life is in danger. If he's wrong, well, that has to be saved for Act III. ♪♪

Saving people in spite of themselves is a task to which missionaries have devoted their energies over the centuries. The fact that such efforts have often backfired has in no way dampened the enthusiasm of the visionaries. In our story, Carlos Ucala's hope of saving his beloved ran high as he approached the door of number 15 Avenida Arequipa in Cusco, Peru.

Senor Ukiah, you were expected. Please come in. I've come for my fiancée, Nancy Littleton. And she's been anxiously awaiting your arrival. She didn't believe us when we told her you'd be here. This way, please. You're taking me to her? Indirectly. Now, sit down. Perhaps some coffee. I want to see Nancy. All in good time. First, we have some business to discuss.

Miss Littleton is an important member of the expedition. Her disappearance is going to cause an uproar if I found her, the police will... Eventually, they will. But perhaps they'll find her corpse. Why, you fat... Please, please. Nothing rash. You can't afford a temper. Put the gun down. I'll show you what I can afford. Senor Lucala, you're at a disadvantage. I know everything about you, and you know nothing about me. I know you're a thug.

My name is Francisco Fortune, and I am a collector. I want the mask of Tupac Amaru, and I mean to have it. Good luck. I don't want it. I already know that. I know about the curse, and I also know you believe in it, and the senorita doesn't. I agree with her, and that makes your interest and mine identical. Okay. What's your proposal?

That you replace the original mask with an absolutely perfect imitation. You're asking me to steal the mask, and I'm not a thief. But I can guarantee that the greatest expert in the world won't know the mask you substitute isn't the original. Since you've got it all figured out, why do you need me?

Because your relationship with the senorita will make the substitution immeasurably easier. Yes, but you don't mention the fact that if anything should go wrong, I am the fall guy. Oh, why look on the downside? Think. You take a small risk. You save your fiancée's life. A tiny subterfuge, and she remains happy in the belief that science has given the lie to superstition. You mean I don't tell her about the switch?

Honesty has destroyed more men than a bubonic plague. Professor Brady was also an honest man. If I could have talked to him, I could have saved him. Have you seen tonight's paper? No. Take it with you. Now, I call your attention to the box on the front page. The item about the photographer. What will it take to convince you? First Brady, now the man who photographed the mask. What...

What more proof do you want? Professor Brady, guide of an infection...

The photographer was run over and killed by a car. Hundreds of people are killed by cars every day. You want me to believe that this was decreed by Viricocha? Don't you see? I can't accept that. Why not? Because to admit that means turning the clock back 300 years. Oh, darling, trust me. Trust my instincts. And abandon mine. Oh, what are we talking about? Instincts and philosophy when the subject really is love. I love you, but... But... I don't like the future I see. I love you and I love my work...

But you know as well as I that every digger is going to have some ancient superstition connected with it. Not with Viricocha. Please, please return the mask. No. All right. Then have you thought about how you're going to get out of here? When I saw you, I was naive enough to believe that you'd come to rescue me. Who was it who knew where I was? We. A priest at the old Hwakan Temple. And how did he know?

I don't know. Then let me tell you. He knew because he's involved in it. I don't believe that. You haven't been able to think since you came to Peru. You figure there's some strange power in the curse. But you don't think the priest of a Huacan temple would do anything to get his hands on that mask. And so would the man who risked kidnapping you. They're in it together. I know for a fact that they're not. Fortune has asked me to steal a mask for him. Why would he think you'd do that? Because he has got you as a hostage.

Then tell him I won't give up the mask, and you won't consider stealing it. And he has to let me go because I'm of no use to him. He knows I love you. You've never stolen anything in your life. If you go through this, we're finished. I never want to see you again. And now, senor, now that you've convinced yourself how the senorita feels, we do our deal. I'm listening. I'm listening.

You're so clever, I can smell your cunning from here. You had better hope so, because the success of our venture depends upon my cleverness. That's what bothers me. I don't like the idea of having to spend the rest of my life in a Peruvian prison. What you fail to realize is the depth of my desire for the mask. I must have it. Ha, ha, ha.

You see, it's almost become an obsession. I see. Therefore, I must take every precaution to ensure your success. Here. This is the key to the late Professor Brady's office. We took it from the senorita's handbag. And I suppose the mask is just lying on his desk. The mask is in the safe in his office until it is transferred to the museum. Well, then we can forget it. I'm no safe cracker. These numbers...

of a combination to the safe. Also from Nancy? No, sir. She'll have a lot to hate me for. One must be alive to hate. You do have a knack for pressing the right buttons. How do I get into the building? You know their guards. Two. On Thursday, at 11 o'clock, will be Jesus Alicante and Ramon Merona. They are not well paid. By the government, that is.

Will they stay bribed? For two reasons. They will not be paid until after you've accomplished what you went there to do. I promised them that. You seem completely confident about that. There's someone you must meet. Topa! Topa, come here. Bring the case.

The topa is a genius, an unequal forger of artworks of all kinds. I also know that I can trust him absolutely, which is why he will accompany you on Thursday night. No, no, I don't think I like that. At exactly ten minutes to eleven on Thursday night, you will leave your hotel by the side entrance. I don't like the idea of a witness. Come, Senor Kyler.

To leave you alone with identical masks... presents such a wealth of opportunities for devious dealing... that I cannot allow it. It's out of the question. All right. At ten to eleven, I leave the hotel by the side entrance. Yes. And? There'll be a taxi cab waiting. It'll be driven by Topa. You will get in. And from then on, everything will proceed as planned. Is that clear? Perfectly. Also, if any idea...

of giving the police the address of this house has crossed your mind, you should know that when you leave here, we do also. The house will be empty. Goodbye, and good luck on Thursday, senor. I'm sorry to be so shaky, Topa, but this is way out of my line. So far, so good. Everything Fortune said has happened. I haven't even seen the guards. I think you'd better...

Yeah, close the door, Topa. Now, for the safe. How about my reading off the combinations to you? I think it'll be faster. Let me hold the flashlight. All right. Fourteen left. Then back past zero to nine right. And six left. And finally two right. That should do it. That should do it. Try it. Here's the case. Make the switch. We'll get out of here.

What's the matter? All right, all right. I understand. I'll handle it. Topa. Topa. Topa, listen to me. I also have your blood. If that is Viricocha, he doesn't talk in anger. That is the sound of approval that we hear. Wait, wait. I'll get the mask. I'll get the mask.

Bravo! Bravo! I can see from your faces that you've been successful. Congratulations. And I have kept my word. Here is your senorita waiting for you. Did you have a storm out here? A storm? No. No thunder? Nothing. Senorita, pay close attention. If you're thinking about announcing to the world the truth of what has happened to the mask,

Not only do I advise against it, but I am certain that will also be the advice of your fiancée. Carlos is no longer my fiancée, and I couldn't care less about any advice he might offer. Let me say that I agree with you. The whole matter of the curse is silly superstition. Professor Brady died because of an infection that followed his stepping on a piece of glass in his hotel bathroom. That was not Vili Kocher's doing, but mine.

I also saw to it that the glass was impregnated with an exceedingly rare and virulent virus. Now, senor, I'm sure you wouldn't want anything to happen to your lovely senorita. Don't think you can frighten me. Topa, the case, please. On my desk. Topa, show me the mask. Do you get a kick out of torturing him? You know he's afraid to touch it.

Oh, yes. Yes, I should have remembered. I'll do it myself. Oh, exquisite. Truly a marvel of ink and art. If you could feel the softness of the gold, the warmth as I run my fingers over it, I cannot describe. Ah! Ah! Ah!

Nancy, I'll hold him. Loosen his collar. Please! Is he dead? Yes. Well, Nancy, there's the mask in his hand. What do you want to do? Give it to me, please. Here. Topa, here it is. The death mask of Tupac Amaru. It belongs to you and your people. Take it to them. And Carlos? Yes? Yes.

Carlos, darling, let's go home. It's a scientific fact that the Indians of the Peruvian Amazon have a plant that painlessly extracts teeth. When they were told that our method of pulling teeth involves much blood and sometimes even pain, they cried out, but what barbarians?

Of course, it would be barbaric to believe that Francisco Fortune's death came about from any but the natural causes of heart failure. But I strongly suspect that there may be some of us just barbaric enough to doubt it. I'll be back shortly. Every day, in every way, I'm getting better and better.

That phrase was made famous in the 1920s by a French psychotherapist named Emile Couet. A lot of people swore that by believing it, they were cured. A lot of other people shrugged it off as being effective only on very gullible and not very sick people. What I wonder is, how many people died because they thought, every day I'm getting sicker and sicker.

The mind, my friends, the mind can play some strange and powerful tricks. Our cast included Ruby Dee, Michael Wager, Robert Dryden, and Dan Arco. The entire production was under the direction of Hyman Brown. And now, a preview of our next tale. I thought it was a cat. Cat.

But then it rose straight up before me, and I saw it was Ilse's mother. Monsieur has decided then. Ah, that is well. I am content. Here, give me your hands. My... my hands? But of course, for the dance.

We go this night to celebrate. Ilsa! Ilsa, come to us! Come quickly! And suddenly, Ilsa was there. And we joined hands. And we danced some steps that seemed oddly and horribly familiar to me. Ilsa was dressed in rags as I had seen her before. And then others were there, all dancing. And I heard voices crying, To the Sabbath! To the Sabbath! To the Sabbath!

On to the witch's Sabbath! Radio Mystery Theater was sponsored in part by Sinoff, the sinus medicines, and Anheuser-Busch Incorporated, brewers of Budweiser. This is E.G. Marshall inviting you to return to our mystery theater for another adventure in the macabre. Until next time, pleasant dreams.

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

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

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

Prepare yourself for our next live screen for chilling tales of what some people must endure in an attempt to get some sleep. Find the details on the live screen page at weirddarkness.com. When hiring gets hard, it's easy to fall back on bad habits and turn to gut instinct. That's why Greenhouse brings the best hiring tools together in one platform so you can make the smartest and most fair hiring decisions for your team.

Get access to top talent, create an organized interview plan, and track your progress over time, making it easy to hire the right person for the right role every time. Hire better all together with Greenhouse. Visit greenhouse.com to learn more.

Have you been to the Great Wolf Lodge that's nearby? We took our kids last weekend and they won't stop talking about it. There's a huge indoor water park that's always 84 degrees and they have dozens of other family activities like a ropes course, bowling and more. It's the perfect getaway. It's so close we literally hopped in the car and we were there in no time.

We all had a blast and we barely had to do any planning. So if you have a free weekend coming up, now's the time to book a trip to the Perryville Lodge just outside of Baltimore. Or if you're in the Virginia area, check out the lodge in Williamsburg. Head to greatwolf.com to book your stay today. It's the Kia season of new tradition sales event. So don't just hang your own lights. Venture out and look for the Northern Lights. Drink cocoa on the beach or be a drive-by karaoke caroler.

Because every Kia comes with a 10-year, 100,000-mile limited powertrain warranty. So you can take holidays to places they've never been. See your local Kia dealer or visit Kia.com to learn more. Kia. Movement that inspires. See Kia dealer for warranty details. Event ends 1-2-25.

Ah, the sizzle of McDonald's sausage. It's enough to make you crave your favorite breakfast. Enough to head over to McDonald's. Enough to make you really wish this commercial were scratch and sniff.

And if you're a sausage person, now get two satisfyingly savory sausage McGriddles, sausage biscuits, or sausage burritos for just $3.33. Or mix and match. Price and participation may vary. Cannot be combined with any other offer or combo meal. Single item at regular price.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

My dad works in B2B marketing. He came by my school for career day and said he was a big ROAS man. Then he told everyone how much he loved calculating his return on ad spend. My friend's still laughing me to this day. Not everyone gets B2B, but with LinkedIn, you'll be able to reach people who do. Get $100 credit on your next ad campaign. Go to linkedin.com slash results to claim your credit. That's linkedin.com slash results. Terms and conditions apply. LinkedIn.com slash results.

LinkedIn, the place to be, to be. That's sealed. Book. Once again, the Keeper of the Book is ready to open the ponderous volume in which is recorded all the secrets and mysteries of mankind through the ages. All the strange and mystifying stories of the past, present, and the future. Keeper of the Book.

What tale will you tell us this time? What tale shall I tell you? I have here tales of every kind. Tales of murder, of madness, of dark deeds and events strange beyond all belief. Now, let me see. Yes, here's a tale for you.

The tale of a man who stole by force the secret of immortality, of life everlasting, and entered into a mad adventure. The title of the tale is King of the World. Here is the tale as it is written in the sealed book. It is late at night and the wind howls over the desolate countryside.

In the darkness, a man runs frantically through the woods trying to elude his pursuers. I've got this, Shacom. Or it'll mean a ten-year stretch. Stop, or we'll shoot! That's Christ, they got me in the same arm. There's a house with a light in it. My only chance. If I stick to these trees, they won't be able to see me. I'm almost there. There's a door. It's only unlocked. Ah, it is. Ah!

Good evening. Now listen. Now listen close. A couple of guards from the Horton estate are after me. I'll be behind this door covering you with a rod. So you haven't seen me, you understand? I understand. That must be them. Remember, any tricks and I'll start blasting. I have no intention of being foolish. Okay, go ahead then. Open the door. Yes, what is it? There's been an attempted theft of the Horton diamond, sir. We chased the crook this way. Have you seen anything of him?

Why, no. There hasn't been anyone here tonight. We'll keep on going. Good night. Break on now. You did all right. I'm glad you're satisfied. Hey, what kind of a place is this? All those machines, bottles and things. This is my laboratory. What are you, a professor? Yes, you... Hey, what's that? Your nerves are on edge. It's only my great day in Caesar...

Come in, Caesar. We have a visitor. Hey, what's he growling at me for? I'm sorry. He always growls at strangers. Don't like him coming towards me that way. Keep my way, will you? Come here, Caesar. He won't listen to you. He's going to spring. Well, this will stop him. Get him off. Take him away, will you? Here, Caesar. Here. Stop it, I say. Stop it. There. There.

That's better. I think I'd better put the chain on you, Caesar. Did he hurt you? Look, I put three slugs into that dog. Why isn't he dead? He isn't even wounded. You must have missed. You say I missed him, do you? I won't miss him this time. I suppose I missed him that time, huh? Why isn't he dead? Well, the truth is, in this laboratory, I've created a serum that has the power to defeat death. I call it Serum L.

Hell for life. You mean the stuff protects you from a bullet or a knife wound? In a way, yes. Swifter than the eye can see, it heals all wounds. The damage is repaired in a fraction of a second. Yeah. My serum is what protected Caesar. A shot of that stuff and you can't be killed. Sounds screwy, but that dog, four slugs are not a mark on him.

Look, Professor, I'm going to make a deal with you. A deal? Yeah. I'll let you keep on living if you'll give me a shot of that serum. But that's impossible. It hasn't been perfected yet. What do you mean it hasn't been perfected? It saved the dog, didn't it? Yes, of course, but I'm still in the experimental stage. I don't know how long the serum is effective or the condition in which it leaves the body after it has worn off. You're wasting time, Professor. I'd hate to have to persuade you. I see.

You understand the responsibility is all yours. That's all right, Professor. You let me do the worrying. Now, come on, let's have a shot of that stuff. Well, roll up your sleeve. Sure. I don't try pulling a fast one, Professor. It won't be healthy. May I ask why you're so anxious to have my serum? Any guy in my racket who can take a slug and not feel it would be top man. I see. Just hold still a moment. All right, go ahead. That's all. My wounds. They're gone.

Boy, there isn't even a mark on my arm to show where they were. I told you it healed faster than the eye could see. Yeah, it's like a miracle. Think of it. I can't be killed. Nothing can stop me now. I can move in on all the rackets and take them all over. Yes, sir, I'll be king of the world. Hello, Duke. What do you want to see me about? I'm kind of busy. I won't take up much of your time.

I'm after a job. I'd like to give you one, but I haven't room for another man. You're wrong. There's one job in your racket that's going to be open soon. Yours. Mine? Yeah. Duke, you've got a funny sense of humor. Yeah, I know. But this is one time I'm not kidding. You better be kidding, or it might not be healthy for you. I don't have to worry about my health anymore. You'd better go while the going's good. I like it here. You're the one who's leaving.

Right now. You haven't got a gun, Duke. The boys saw to that. And I have. You're a little nervous, aren't you, Williams? Stay where you are or I'll let you have it. I don't scare easily, not anymore. You were at first. Couldn't have missed. I won't this time. Don't seem to be able to stop me, Williams. I shot you. I tell you, I shot you. Why did you fall?

Oh, it can't be. I put six bullets into you. Why did you fall? Your gun is empty now, Williams. It's just you and me. No, don't go. Don't do anything you say. Stay away from me. Too bad, Williams. You should have resigned when I gave you the chance. But you would be stubborn. That's what they'll all get if they stand in my way. Please.

Hello, Mike. Come on in. I'm just totaling up the take for last month. Gonna be quite a haul. Ah, Duke, you're headed for trouble. You've been expanding too fast, stepping on too many people's toes. They don't want to get stepped on. They better stay out of my road. Hey,

They tried to bump me off a half a dozen times in the past month, and I'm still alive. Stu, what is it that keeps you up even after they put a dozen slugs into you? Your job is to carry out my orders, not to ask questions. Oh, I didn't mean anything by it. I hope you didn't. Now, look, I want you to pick up a fast car. We're going after the Horton Diamond tonight. The Horton Diamond? Yeah.

Ah, Duke, that's suicide. We're cleaning up right here. Why risk our necks on a dangerous job? Because I want the Horton Stone. The way I got it figured, we can't miss. Remember, their guns can't stop me.

Hey, is 70 the best you can get out of this car? I got my foot down to the floor now. Hey, look at that diamond, Mike. Isn't it a beauty? Think of it. I got a half a million bucks right in my hand. Yeah, a lot of good it's gonna do us if we don't shake that police car. Yeah, you're right. They're hanging on. We gotta shake them. There's nothing more I can do. I'm pushing this crate as fast as it'll go. All right, look out for this curve. We're taking it too fast. Hey, I can't control it. Look out! We're going over there! Hey!

Look at that car, will you? They must have been doing all of 70 when they crashed. Yeah. They sure have a hard time identifying this guy behind the wheel. What a mess. What about the other guy? Let's have a look. Say, there isn't a mark on him. He's unconscious, but he doesn't appear to be hurt at all. But he must be after a crash like this. Take a look for yourself. I tell you, this guy is going to live. A lot of good it'll do him. After killing two guards at the Horton estate, he's headed to the electric chair.

And now, to go on with the story of the king of the world, as it is written here in the sealed book.

Duke Farson, having been duly tried and sentenced for the murders he committed, is being strapped into the electric chair. Warden, you're wasting your time. This isn't the last mile for me. I'm one guy you can't fry. All right, Richards, we can proceed now. Will you examine the body, Doctor? Sorry to disappoint you, Warden, but...

I'm not dead. But you must be. No man has ever lived through it. I'm not like other men, warden. You can't kill me. Richard, unstrap the prisoner from the chair. What's happened must be due to a mechanical defect. That must be it. You look a little pale, warden. It's good to get out of that chair. It's not very comfortable. Why are you all backing away from me? You afraid I'll hurt you? I'll just take this gun. That's better now. All right, warden.

Start marching. You're going to lead me to freedom, if you want to live. Duke. Let me in, Joe. Quick. That's better.

Hey, you look as though you'd seen a ghost, Joe. The papers are full of stories about your escape. They say the juice was turned on, and yet when it was over, you got up and walked away. Yeah, yeah, that's right. I told them I was one guy too big to be killed. Look, Duke, I can't afford any trouble with the cops. You know I'm a three-time loser. Shut up. I'm still giving orders. You'll do as I say. The cops can only send you up for life. I can do worse. Don't talk like that, Duke. You know you can count on me. I'll do anything you say. You'd better.

I'm going to hole up here for a couple of weeks until the heat's off. Meanwhile, I'm going to make plans, big plans. I'm bigger than just being the king of the underworld. If I organize things right, there's no reason I can't use the underworld to take over the rest of the world. Yeah, that would make me king of the world. Wouldn't be hard to either way.

Why is that clock so loud? I can't even hear myself talk. What clock? There isn't any in this apartment. Are you deaf? Can't you hear it? Oh, Duke, honest. I don't hear a thing. You must be imagining things. I don't know. I don't hear it so loud now either. Yeah, I guess maybe it was my imagination. Yet I could have sworn...

Well, never mind. I got other things to think of. Big things. Why don't you sit down, Duke, and take it easy? I'm tired of sitting. Three weeks in this rat trap is enough for anyone. I've had about enough. The heat's on as big as ever, Duke. I never saw him as anxious to get anyone.

Every time I go out, I expect some dick to trail me back to this hideout. Suppose you let me do the worrying, huh? Sure, sure. I was only talking. And you been having any more of those attacks lately? I'm okay. Stop talking about it. It's bad enough without having to be reminded about it. I don't want to hear... Hey, what's that? What, Duke? That buzzing sound. It keeps growing louder and louder. I don't hear nothing. Listen, you must hear it. It's a fly. Yeah, and it's getting louder. I don't hear anything.

I tell you, I can't stand it. Why? Yeah. I don't hear it. Wait, there's one over there flying around us, Crank. Well, do something, will you? I can't stand the noise. It's driving me crazy. Take it easy, Duke. I'm doing my best to kill it. Thanks, Joe. It's gone now. For a while, I thought I'd blow my top. Maybe you'd better see a doctor, Duke. You've been getting these attacks more and more these past three weeks. No doctor can do me any good.

There's only one man that can help me. Who's that? That's the professor. You, uh, you remember me, don't you, professor? Yes, of course. I've been reading quite a bit about you in the papers lately, Mr. Farson. Your serum was all right, professor. It saved me from being electrocuted, but... I don't know, these last three weeks, something's happened and I don't like it. Suppose you tell me about it. I keep getting attacks...

Maybe I'm listening to the radio. Everything's fine. Then all of a sudden it grows louder, as though someone was turning it on full blast. It pounds on my head until I think I'm going crazy. Professor, I can't stand it. You've got to help me. You recall that when you asked for my serum, I told you it hadn't been perfected? Well? That I didn't know what effect it would have on the human body? Yeah, yeah, I know, but you've got to help me now. I can't go on this way. I keep waiting for the next attack.

Each one is worse than the last. You remember my great Dane Caesar, don't you? Yeah, sure. He tried to take a piece out of my throat, didn't he? I'll open this trap door. You can see him in the cellar. Huh? There he is, Mr. Farson. Well, what's wrong with him? Why does he keep whining like that? Caesar, too, received an injection of the serum, Mr. Farson. Six months before you received yours. Yeah? Now, every sound he hears is a hundredfold greater...

I'm speaking to you in normal tone of voice. Yet to Caesar, I'm shouting unbearably loud. You mean that... Caesar has passed into a condition where every sound is sheer torment. To be quite frank, he went insane three months ago. Why don't you kill him? Put him out of his misery. You forget, Mr. Farson, that the serum still protects him from death. He can't die. And is that...

Is that what'll happen to me in a few months? Yes. I'm sorry to say. But, Professor, there must be something you can do. Maybe you got another serum, huh? Anything. I've got money. I'm sorry, but it isn't a question of money. I can offer you no help. I can't go on this way, waiting for each new attack. And then in the end, if only there was an end, if only I could die...

Possibly there is a way out. There is? Tell me. I'll do anything. Well, as you know, my serum can prevent death from a dozen bullet wounds. There might be one way its great healing powers could be defeated. Yeah, which way is that? If you were to use an explosive, a powerful explosive, you might blow yourself up into so many pieces that the serum would no longer be able to defeat death. Yeah. Yeah, I see what you mean.

One of the Bob once had an accident with nitro. They never found a trace of him. Yeah, your nitro. That would do the trick. Yes, quite possibly. If the attacks continue and they're beyond endurance, it may be your one way of escape. My one way of escape? Once I thought that with your serum, I'd come to rule the world. Now I'm looking for a way out of it. What do you do? You expecting someone else? No, no, of course not.

What are you so jittery about? Who, me? Yeah. I'm okay. What'd the guy you went to see say? He can't help me. No one can. What are you gonna do, Duke? There's nothing I can do but wait. Maybe... maybe he was wrong. Maybe I won't get them attacks anymore. After all, just because it happened to the dog doesn't mean that... Hey, what's that? That... that steady pounding...

It's growing louder and louder. Must be another attack. I can't stand it. It keeps pounding, pounding, louder and louder. Maybe it's the faucet in the kitchen. It's been leaking lately. I'll have a look at it. I can't go on this way. I tell you, I can't. It's gone now, but there'll be another attack, and then another. The faucet was leaking. I just turned it off. Was that what was troubling you, Duke? Yeah, yeah.

It's no use. I can't go on this way, waiting for it to happen all the time. And then ending up like that dog. What dog? Never mind. Get out the car. We're going on a little trip. Trip? Yeah. Where to, Duke? Upstate to the old hideout. I'm going to try to take the one way out. Duke.

Won't you tell me what we come to this old place for? You'll see. Come on. What are you looking around for? Nothing. Nothing at all. Have you got the shovel? Yeah. Won't you at least tell me what we need the shovel for? You're going to do some digging for me in the cellar. There's something buried in the cellar? Yeah. Nitro. All right. Here's the cellar door. Nitro? You mean that's what's buried down there? Yeah. We stored it here for safe-cracking jobs. Now I got a better use for it. You aren't going to get me to dig it up. It'd be suicide. You see this gun, don't you, Joe?

You haven't much choice. Now start down those steps. But I can't see. It's pitch dark down here. That's okay. Just feel your way down the steps. We get to the bottom, I'll light a candle. Please don't make me... Keep going.

Duke, that was the bottom step. What about lighting the match? Okay, just a second. I've got one here. I got his gun. I got him. Let go of me. I gotta reach that nitro. Let go. Get him, coppers. Get him or I'll blow his nose. You rat. You squealed on me. Hold that light on him, Jordan. I got him. You've got to let me get to the nitro. It's the only way I can die. He's as crazy as a loon. Yeah. A place for this guy's in a padded cell. Hmm.

All right, Farson, in you go. There. You won't be able to hurt yourself in that nice padded cell. And you won't be able to hear any of those loud noises again either. No, no, no noises. There aren't any radios or watches or automobile horns that can bother you in that cell. It's guaranteed 100% soundproof. Now be a good boy. Oh, yeah.

You gotta let me go. I want to die, do you hear? You can't let me live and suffer these attacks. Let me out of here. Let me out, do you hear? I can't stay... Oh, it's starting again. Another attack. It's growing louder and louder. A steady pounding. It's my heart beating. Growing louder and louder. I can't stop it. I can't stop it. I can't stop it.

And that is the story of the king of the world as it is written in the sealed book.

Years have passed, but Duke Ferguson is still locked up in the padded cell. Day and night he begs to be executed, and yet at the same moment he knows he can't die, that the serum in his blood has given him immortality and sentenced him to a life filled with torturous sounds from which there is no escape. There is no escape. It is so written here in the sealed book.

But the sound of the great gong tells me I must close the great book once again. One moment, keeper of the book.

What story from the sealed book will you tell us next time? Next time? What shall it be? A tale of madness? Of terror? Of dark deeds in far lands? For I have them here. All the stories that ever happened. And many that have yet to come to pass. But I'll find one for you in just a moment.

And now, keeper of the book, have you found the story you'll tell next time? Yes, yes, I found one. It's a story about a ruthless man who put money above all and wouldn't stop at murder to achieve his ends. The title of the tale is Death Spins a Web.

Be sure to be with us again next time when the Great Gong heralds another strange and exciting story from... The Sealed Book. The Sealed Book, written by Bob Arthur and David Kogan, is produced and directed by Jock McGregor. Hey, 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.

The sizzle of McDonald's sausage. It's enough to make you crave your favorite breakfast. Enough to head over to McDonald's. Enough to make you really wish this commercial were scratch and sniff. And if you're a sausage person, now get two satisfyingly savory sausage McGriddles, sausage biscuits, or sausage burritos for just $3.33. Or mix and match. Price and participation may vary. Cannot be combined with any other offer or combo meal. Single item at regular price. Ba-da-ba-ba-ba.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

My dad works in B2B marketing. He came by my school for career day and said he was a big ROAS man. Then he told everyone how much he loved calculating his return on ad spend.

My friend's still laughing at me to this day. Not everyone gets B2B, but with LinkedIn, you'll be able to reach people who do. Get $100 credit on your next ad campaign. Go to linkedin.com slash results to claim your credit. That's linkedin.com slash results. Terms and conditions apply. LinkedIn, the place to be, to be.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

Hey 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 Theater 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 Theater. It's this Saturday night, 10 p.m. Eastern, 9 p.m. Central, 8 p.m. Mountain, 7 p.m. 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.

♪♪♪

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The shadow knows. Oh.

Your local blue coal dealer presents The Shadow. These half-hour dramatizations are designed to forcibly demonstrate to old and young alike that crime does not pay. Before The Shadow's thrilling adventure begins, here's a money-saving suggestion for every homeowner. When you order anthracite, be sure and insist on blue coals.

Unlike many other anthracites, blue coal is a medium, free-burning hard coal. Its square fracture permits more draft, causes it to burn steadily down to a fine powdery ash, and give you more useful heat with less chimney and ash pit loss. You'll find that blue coal banks better, gives you longer firing periods, and requires less attention.

So order your supply tomorrow. Insist on blue coal for better heating results at less cost this winter. And be sure to listen at the close of today's program. We're fortunate in having a very distinguished guest in our audience this afternoon whom we wish to introduce to you. ♪♪

The shadow whose life is devoted to protecting the innocent is in reality Lamont Cranston, wealthy young bachelor, amateur criminologist, master of other people's minds. Only his friend and companion, the lovely Margot Lane, knows that Cranston and the shadow are one and the same. Today's story, The Isle of Fear. The Isle of Fear

Mr. Dupre, I'm certainly glad you persuaded Miss Lane and me to leave the cruise ship at Port-au-Prince and spend a few days here on your plantation. I don't know when I've had such a wonderful dinner. It's been grand, Mr. Dupre, and I had no idea Haiti was so beautiful. I am delighted you could break your Caribbean cruise and allow me to return the hospitality you both extended me when I visited New York. I must apologize for the storm, mademoiselle. May I offer you more wine, Mr. Constance? Thank you. By the way, Mr. Dupre... Yes?

While we were driving up from Port-au-Prince, I thought I heard drums in the hills. Drums strangely like the old drums of African voodoo. You did, monsieur. I had hoped you had not noticed. But why, monsieur Dupre? Mademoiselle, Haiti is beautiful. But its people, in spite of centuries of French, English and American influence, in spite of the untiring efforts of educators and ceaseless devotion of ministers and priests, remain at heart African.

Their bodies are free, but their minds remain the slaves of voodoo. But I thought voodooism had been stamped out of the West Indies. Voodoo does not die, Monsieur Constance. Its followers may think they have forgotten the old gown. They may wear civilized clothes, go to school and to the many Christian churches of the island. But voodoo is always there, in their primitive minds and souls, waiting. When was the last outbreak? Only ten years ago, Mademoiselle Margot. It was on a night very much like this...

For days the drums had been calling from the hills, where in the grottoes of Sanssouci, the mad Prince Henry was paying his customary visit to Kéon, the high priest of Voodoo. Kéon needed human victims for his ritual at the blood moon. And on this...

Kea! Kea! The Prince Henry pretender has come to the Grotto of Saint-Saucy. What does he want? This fool who thinks the blood of the Emperor Henry Christophe courses his shriveled veins. He comes to offer us victims for the festival of the Blood Moon. Children of these political enemies. Let him enter. Enter, Prince Henry.

K'an, great priest of Voodoo, will hear you. K'an, in three days the festival of the blood moon begins. Where are your victims, K'an? Where are the blood sacrifices you must offer the snake gods of Voodoo? They will be found, Prince Henry. You are sure, K'an? Yes.

I know you have come, as always, to offer me the families of your enemies. And your enemies are many. I, like the trees of the jungle and the stalks of cane in the valley of San Susi, you will find the sacrifices for me, Prince Henry. You will find death.

Hush, my baby, hush. Or Keon the ugly will take you away to the grotto. Be quiet, woman. In two days the festival begins. And no one knows who Keon shall choose. Who is there? Open your door. Give me that child. Here is the child. Keon has chosen.

Francois, you read me last month's report of shipment from the plantation warehouse. Yes, monsieur. 200 casks of worm, 40,000 pounds of ore sugar, 20,000... Master, master, the mistress. Karen has taken her. Taken her to the hills at Saint-Sucy. Merciful God.

In thy power and wisdom, give me strength against the powers of evil. Help me, O Lord, to protect my innocent flock.

Lead the erring from the paths to the hills, where the devil's disciples of voodoo consecrate their worship of heathen gods with human blood. Stand back, priest! Stand back, man of chosen! Nay, thou shalt take no child from this house of God! Stand back, priest! Stand back! Nay!

Wait! The priest is dead! That, Mademoiselle Laine, Monsieur Constantin, happened only ten years ago. It was very sad. How horrible, Monsieur Dupre. Did the voodoo priest actually murder those children and that plant his wife? They and many more were sacrificed to the snake gods of voodoo, Mademoiselle Laine. Oh, how horrible. Can't the authorities do anything? They are helpless, Monsieur Constantin.

Do you hear that drum? It is sundown. They are starting again. It may mean nothing. The drums often beat in the hills, but we live in constant dread of another orgy of blood, such as we had ten years ago. There is something sinister about it. Unearthly. Quiet, Mademoiselle Margot.

to follow the sound of that drum would be to turn back the hands of time and civilization a thousand years i've come to say good night well good night my son how about to wait

Ma'am, Miss Elaine, Monsieur Cranston, this is my son. How do you do? Hello. How do you do, Miss Elaine? I'm glad to know you, Monsieur Cranston. My father has spoken of you. You are staying a few days? Yes, only a few days. You must hurry back to New York. Oh, but you will be here tomorrow. The storm will appear and we can ride. I have a fine horse for you, Miss Elaine. Oh, thank you, Juan. I'd love to ride with you. Then good night, mademoiselle, monsieur. Until tomorrow. Good night, Juan. Good night, Juan. Good night, my son.

You tell Francois to make sure the garden gates are locked and the doors bowed. We won't, sir. Some more wine, Monsieur Constance? No, thank you. Monsieur Dupre. Yes? You spoke of those drums as if there were some particular significance. There is, Monsieur. Tonight of all nights. It is the eve of the festival of the blood moon. You mean voodoo? Yes, mademoiselle. Voodoo is like a play. For years it may like dormant, but sooner or later the priests of voodoo recall their own.

And they slipped into the jungles like ghosts. And the drums began. But surely there'll be no human sacrifices, not now. Voodoo does not change, Mademoiselle Margot. That is why my gates are locked, the doors barred. Ah, but come, my friends. You have not interrupted your short holiday in the Caribbean to listen to tales of horror and death. On the contrary.

I'd like to get your first-hand opinion on the actual powers of these fanatic priests. Forgive me, Monsieur Constant. I cannot speak of voodoo as an academic thing. It is too close. Has... Has this man, K.R., ever chosen anyone from your plantation? Mademoiselle Margot, I think you will understand...

When I tell you that the plantain's wife, who was taken into the hills of Sanssouci ten years ago tonight, was the mother of the boy you met a few moments ago. My son. Oh, forgive me. You could not know. Forgive us, Monsieur Dupre. We had only stopped to think. Oh, please. It was I who first spoke of Boudou. It is I who cannot forget Kéon. Cannot rest until one day I find that murderous devil...

And kill him as he killed my beloved wife. The drums. Listen to them.

carrying a message into the hills. Another victim. Another human sacrifice to the snake gods of Boudreaux. Monsieur Dupre, monsieur. They sprang upon me at the gates. One has been chosen. Oh, my son. Where is he? Chaos men have taken him to the grottoes of Saussure Sea. Lamont. Lamont. Lamont.

Margot, you shouldn't be outside the gates. Any news of Juan? No. We've ridden off through the valleys the whole day. Even into the hills. Where is Monsieur Dupre? In the hills. He wouldn't come back. He hopes to follow the signal fires after sundown, but I'm afraid it's madness. They'll kill him. Where are all the servants, Margot? Gone. The native quarters are deserted. Where have you been, Lamont? We've been everywhere. It's like riding through a land of the dead.

I'm afraid it's hopeless, Margot. No, Lamont. There's one chance. One chance. What do you mean, Margot? About an hour ago, an old woman came out of the cane brakes and spoke to me.

She said she would take me to see Cale in the Festival of the Blood Moon if I would give her my diamond ring. It's a trick to get you into the jungle. I know it's a trap, but I told her I'd meet her on the jungle trail an hour after sundown. Are you mad, Margot? But Lamont, it's a chance, a slim chance of finding poor little Juan. What good would it do for you to find him, Margot? You'd only die with him in the hidden grottoes of San Susi. I'll risk it to save Juan.

I'll risk it if you'll come with me. As the shadow. As the shadow? If the shadow could humble their priest, they'd listen to you. Let me meet the old woman in the jungle. Let the shadow follow us to the grottoes. If you don't, poor Juan will be murdered just as they murdered his mother. Oh, please. Please, Lamont. It's madness, Margot. Sheer madness. But we'll try it. THE END

Lamont, this jungle is like a black pit. This is nothing, Margot. What lies ahead? Do you want to go back? More than anything in this world, Lamont, but we can't. I know. Be careful, Margot. The old woman may be near here. What are you going to do when we meet her? I'm going to make her fear you more than she fears K-On!

I'm going to... Quiet, Margot. Don't be afraid, mamsel. All gay all will not hurt you. Give me the flashing white stone and I will show you things which no white woman has ever looked upon before. And live. Here. Here.

Here's the ring. Even in the dark it flashes like the fires of the blood moon which comes soon to the hill. Hurry, follow. You must not be late. Wait, Gael. Wait. Who laughs? Who speaks? Talk of a woman. You have not come alone. I am alone, Gael. You lie. I heard the voice. The voice of a man. No, Gael. No.

I'm alone. Alone, Gairo. But in the darkness beside her walks a shadow. A shadow? Yes, a shadow stronger than the voodoo of Gaon, your master. That is a trick, a lie. For that you'll die. Don't move, Gairo. What? Don't raise that knife. Let it fall to the ground, Gairo. What? Your fingers cannot hold it. Cannot hold a knife. Let it fall to the ground. Well, then...

Let them forgive. You are a priestess, a priestess of many forces. Take back the ring. Forgive, have mercy, forgive. Get up, Gaior. Lead the way to the Grotto of Theon. Yes. Go. Yes. Or you will stand forever like a stone image in the jungle, and the snake gods will burn your soul in the fires of the mountains. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Before we continue the second part of the Shadow's exciting adventure, here's a question for every homeowner. When you buy a vacuum cleaner or any other household product, you always make sure it's trademarked and therefore guaranteed by a responsible company. And why not take the same precaution when you're ordering your supply of anthracite?

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Only upon passing that thorough laboratory test is blue coal accepted for shipment to the blue coal dealers. Remember, furnaces in this part of the country were especially designed to burn anthracite. And the finest anthracite money can buy is blue coal.

Call your dealer tomorrow. His name is listed in the where to buy it section of your classified telephone directory under the name Blue Coal and ask him about Blue Coal's automatic heat regulator. This thermostat controls your furnace dampers and enables you to keep your home at a steadier, more even heat with a minimum of effort and furnace attention. A Blue Coal heat regulator costs but $18.95 plus a nominal installation charge. At

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Look, look, ma'am Zerlaine. See, I have not disappeared you. You hear the native chant? I have brought you to the grotto. Where is Cahill? Where is Cahill?

Where are the victims who are to be sacrificed to the snake god? Come along the great ledge beyond the altar of sacrifice. He is there with the victims bound in chains. But wait, mademoiselle, wait. Be careful, Gael. You've been warned. Mademoiselle, you go alone. Do not make me take you to chaos. If your powers are not greater than his, he will slay you. He will slay me. Amen.

Mercy, mademoiselle. Mercy. No. Shadow. No. Shadow, what shall I do? Mademoiselle, why don't the voice answer you? Where is this power of the darkness? Has it fled in terror before the fires of chaos? It has. It has. Chaos. Chaos. I have brought you another victim of yours to follow.

Le Monde! Le Monde! Steady, Maman. The time has come. Don't show fear or they'll kill you. Look here. Look, a beautiful woman with skin like I. Le Monde! Le Monde! Le Monde! The hour has come. The old gods await the charred blood of this woman.

Hear me, O Peter, by all the powers of Cheyenne.

This flower shall be our first sacrifice. Bring the woman to the altar. Let the mountain hear and the dead stones of the grotto see her die. Beware, Cahill. That girl is not afraid. In the darkness of the jungle I heard a voice, a voice of the shadows. Be still, old woman. Giles seeks the truth, Cahill.

Listen to her. She's right. I am not afraid of your voodoo, God. I've come to guide one who is stronger than all your powers of voodoo. Where Kaon walks, the earth is forever barren. Barren.

K'on is the ageless one. Ageless one. K'on is nothing of the earth, the sea, or sky. Sea or sky. Where is this voice, woman? Let K'on hear it speak. Call it from the shadows. Let it try its strength against K'on. I

Against the gods of Pudu who cry for blood. I am here, Keon. The voice, Keon. What? What white devil's magic have you brought to this hidden place, Keon? Take care, Keon. You have challenged me and I am here.

Show sign of fear and the savage rebel will turn upon you like beasts of prey. Quick, Keon. Show thou are stronger than this voice of the shadows. Take the sword of Christophe and slay the girl. Her blood upon the altar's thorn will flow by power. Take the sword. Look, her white rod gleams in delight of the fire. Strike. Yes, prove your strength, Keon.

Try to raise the sword of Christophe from the altar. Try to kill this girl who has come to take your victims from you. Strike her if you can. It will not move. It is as if chains held it to the rock.

What power is this that drains all strength from the body of Keogh? Like water from a broken gourd. A power as old as voodoo, Keogh. The power of the mind. The power white men call hypnosis. The power you call the evil eye. The evil eye. Voice. Voice of the shadows. What angry god of voodoo sends you? I am more than a voice, Keogh.

I am here in the shadows, though you cannot see me, because I will it. Watch, Kaon. I will prove to your murderous slaves the white man's magic is stronger than all your voodoo sorcery. Watch the sword of Kristoff.

I will raise the sword. You could not move. Watch. The sword rises from the rock, but no hand lifts it. Ah, what the people have seen. They no longer fear you. Kill the girl or they will murder you. Murder me? Oh, voice of the shadows, who are you? I will answer your question, Keon. I am the shadow.

And here is the answer to your challenge, Keon. The broken sword of crystal. Margot, they believe you are a sorceress with greater powers than Keon. Pretend you are, Margot. Tell them the snake gods are angry and want no more human sacrifice. I'll try. I'll try. They're closing in on Keon. Goyo, to pretend a prince, don't try to stop them.

Don't move, Margot. Watch and wait. You just attacked this white priestess! This is my town! Come on! I can't stand it. I can't. You must. They've slain Keon and his murderers. Now they'll turn to you. Command them to go back to the valleys to their Christian churches. Tell them no harm must come to you.

or any of the business, or this grotto will become a furnace of fire. They'll believe you now. There is death! Request, priestess. Let the sacrifice begin. The blood moon grows pale in the sky beyond the mouth of the grotto. No. There must be no more human sacrifice. The old gods are sick of blood. They command you to go back to your homes.

Back to the churches of the one God. Hear me! If harm comes to one of Cheon's victims... or to the boy warned to pray... this grotto will be filled with fire. The rocks will melt. The earth will tremble. There we bring Margaux.

Take the broken sword. Slash the great drum. It is the heart of voodoo. Hurry. Then they will obey you. Get out. Get out of the grotto. Voodoo is dead. The white priestess has described the great drum. The grotto is alive. The grotto is alive.

Margot, empty. Don't feed him. Hold on to the auto. Hold on. Don't let them see you fall. Oh, Lamont. Oh, Lamont. Well, Margot, it's goodbye to Haiti. In 12 hours, this plane will be in New York. How do you feel, Bristan? I don't think I'll ever be the same, Lamont.

But I don't regret it. Taking those children back to their parents and Juan back to his father. It was worth it even if I have nightmares for the rest of my life. Look, Margot. Capetian and the ruins of King Christophe's Citadel. From here it looks like a tropical paradise. Maybe it will be, Lamont. Now that the shadow has broken the spell of voodoo. No, Margot. No one man can dispel the power of voodoo. Education, the Christian churches are doing all in their power. But Dupre was right.

Voodoo doesn't die. It merely slumbers. We have found once more that one of the greatest causes of human misery is ignorance.

In just a moment, you will hear from our surprise guest. But first, John Barclay, Blue Coal's heating expert, has some timely advice for householders. Thank you, Ken Roberts, and good evening, friends. Many householders, when firing their furnaces, shovel in what they think is the right amount of coal, then close the door and leave the fire. This is by no means the most economical way to fire a furnace. To get the most satisfactory results, follow these simple rules.

First, shake the grates gently when it's necessary to make room for fresh coal. Stop shaking as soon as you see the first red glow in the ash pit. Next, with a shovel or hoe, pull the live coal forward so that the fire bed is level with the fire door in front and slopes downward toward the back of the furnace. Be careful not to stir up the layer of ash underneath the coal.

Put the first charge of coal into the hollow thus formed, drilling it up to the level of the fire door. Always leave a spot of live coals directly in front of the fire door. This hot spot will ignite the gases rising from the fresh coal and prevent them from escaping into the chimney unconsumed. I thank you.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the Shadow Program has the honor to present a man who has spent his life bringing criminals to justice. It's with great pleasure that I introduce to you the Assistant District Attorney of Queens County, New York, Mr. Anthony Lovote. Thank you, Mr. Roberts. I don't know anything about crime in Haiti, but there are times when we could use a fellow like the Shadow here in New York.

You couldn't lend him to us by any chance, could you? Well, I'm not so sure that you really need him, Mr. Levote. Law enforcement has made such marvelous strides here in the past few years. However, I'll ask the shadow if he's available. Do that. But seriously, Mr. Roberts, I'm grateful for this opportunity to congratulate Blue Coal and its dealers for sponsoring this shadow program.

They're doing really a great job, not only in entertaining the public, but in showing people the folly and absolute uselessness of crime. In fact, Mr. Roberts, all of us in the business of law enforcement appreciate the splendid cooperation we've been getting from the shadow broadcasts. Thank you, Mr. Levote. It's very gratifying to know that our efforts to show that crime does not pay meet with the approval of you and your associates.

And I'm sure our listening audience joins me in congratulating you on the successful war your department is waging on crime in New York. It's been a real privilege to have you in our audience this afternoon, and I hope you'll stop in again. Thank you. I shall.

This program has been a dramatized version of one of the many copyrighted stories which appear in the Shadow Magazine, now on sale at your local newsstands. All the characters and all the incidents named are fictitious. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The weed of crime bears bitter fruit.

Crime does not pay. The shadow knows.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

is Nelson Olmsted. Sleep no more. Sleep no more. Turn down the lights. Sink back in your chair and don't look into the shadows. In the shadows there may be moving things. Tonight it may be you will sleep no more. Good evening. This is Ben Grauer introducing tonight's Tale of Terror.

told by Nelson Armstead on the National Broadcasting Company's presentation of Sleep No More. The story of terror can be as simple as a sheeted ghost rattling chains. It can be a complex and hidden world of horror, lurking in such unholy dimensions as only the dead and the moonstruck can glimpse. Or it can be those terrible, fathomless shadows which lie buried deep in the primitive mind of civilized man.

And for this evening, well, Nelson Olmsted, tell us about this evening's story. Thank you, Ben. The first of our two stories tonight is by Dorothy B. Hughes, one of the outstanding women crime and mystery writers of our country. This is a powerful presentation of what happens to minds which are not always capable of accepting the major frustrations of modern living. It's called Homecoming. Homecoming

It was a dark night, about six months after the Korean War. A small wind night. The night in which evil things could happen, might happen. He didn't feel uneasy walking the two dark blocks from the streetcar to her house. The reason he kept peering over his shoulder was because he heard things behind him. The little moans of the wind quivering his own flung shadow. And his own steps solid in the night, moving to her house.

He'd be there. The hero, Korea Jim. He'd be there since supper. She'd have asked him to supper because this was her folks' night out. Her folks always went out Thursday nights, ladies' night at the club. By now, she and Jim would be sitting on the couch close together and only one lamp on. Too much light hurt her eyes. They were big as cartwheels, blue sometimes, smoky blue, and sometimes sort of purple-gray. Her nose didn't change. It was little and cute as she was.

Her mouth changed colors. Red like a Jonathan, sometimes like a Holly or Mulberries. Her mouth. He picked up the steps, and this time he didn't look over his shoulder. Nothing was back there. And beyond, a block beyond her house, he could see the blur of a green light, the precinct police station. It was somehow reassuring. There couldn't be anything behind you with the police station ahead of you. Besides, he had a gun. It was heavy in his overcoat pocket. On the streetcar...

He felt everyone's eyes looking through the pocket and wondering why a nice young fellow was carrying a gun. He could have told them. He could have told them he was going to Nan's house, though she wasn't expecting him. Though she'd told him for the twelfth night in a row, I'm so sorry, Benny, but I'm busy tonight. He could have told him he was going to surprise Nan and especially surprise Hero Jim. He'd find out how much of a hero Jim was. He'd see what Big Bold Jim would do up against a real gun. She'd see, too.

When he'd ring the doorbell, they'd sort of jump apart, wondering who it was. Jim would come to the door. He ought to let Jim have it right then and there, the dirty, cheating, lying, sitting around saying...

I don't want to talk about it, Nan. Waiting to be coaxed. And she had coaxed him, bringing up things about the raid that had been printed in the newspapers along with a picture of Jim. He didn't want to talk about it, but once she got him started, she couldn't stop him. He'd gone on and on, practically crawling around the floor, and then he'd stopped and the sweat had broken out all over his red face.

She didn't say anything, just looked at Jim. And he, Benny, had put a hot record on the phonograph. He'd had enough of Jim showing off. But she just sat there looking at Jim. Benny knew that night what was going to happen. Her and Jim and him out of it.

It had always been like that for Jim. He got everything. In high school, he was elected captain of the basketball team. He was a junior class president. He was the one the girls were always looking their eyes out at in the halls. When other guys had pimples, Jim didn't. When other guys had to grease their hair to keep it out of their eyes, Jim's yellow hair was crisp enough to stay where it belonged.

When other guys' pants needed pressing and they forgot their dirty fingernails, Jim didn't. Korea Jim. Even in the war, he'd come out the big stuff. It wasn't Benny's fault he'd never been sent over. The Army didn't say, would you like to go to Korea and be a hero? They said you were doing your part just as much in the recruiting office. He thought he'd been lucky. Until Jim came back with all those pretty ribbons and his picture in the paper. Jim, who'd always had everything, and now this. And Nan, too.

Well, he wasn't going to get away with it this time. He wasn't going to have Nan. Nan was Benny's girl and had been for almost two years. Jim hadn't meant anything to her those years. Just one of the gang in Korea. And Jim wasn't going to come back and bust up Benny and Nan. He could get plenty of other girls. Just because he'd been Nan's fellow in high school before the war didn't mean he could walk back in and take over, not after leaving her for two years. None of that mattered now at all.

There was only one thing counting. Nan, his girl, Benny's girl. Jim was going to find that out tonight. He was there at the white cement steps, the familiar steps. He climbed the steps without breaking the firmness of the stride, without trying to be quiet. He wasn't afraid of Jim. He pushed the buzzer once hard and firm and not afraid, like he'd been pushing it for two years since he ran into Nana, the USO party.

It happened the way he knew it was going to. A wait while she and Jim jumped apart and she smoothed their hair, wondering who it could possibly be.

And then the footsteps of a man coming to the door. Benny's hand gripped tight on the gun in his pocket. Holding tight that way kept his stomach from jumping around. The door opened suddenly before he was quite ready for it to open. Jim was standing there, tall and lanky in the dim hallway, peering out to see who was standing outside. Not expecting Benny, not expecting him at all, because his face came over with a real surprised look as he said, ''Oh, for Lord's sakes, it's Benny!''

"'Benny didn't say anything. "'He stepped in, and Jim had to stand aside and let him pass. "'Nan was standing near the archway. "'He didn't say anything to her, either. "'He simply stood with his hands in his overcoat pockets looking at her. "'He didn't even take off his hat. "'He couldn't, not without letting her see how his hands were shaking.'

Nan started talking the minute he came in. She was mad. Her eyes were like sparklers and her words came out of her mouth like little spits of lead. His hand was so tight on the gun that his fingers ached like his heart. He wanted to cry, to bawl like a kid. But he wouldn't, not with Jim standing there like he owned the parlor, like he was head of the house, waiting to see what this peddler wanted. Nan was saying, what are you doing here, Benny?

You know very well I was busy tonight. I told you that. Now what's the idea of coming here when I told you I was busy? And at this time of night... He had a feeling she'd been saying it over and over again. He wanted to laugh at her, to laugh and laugh until he doubled up from laughing. But he just stood there listening to her until Jim said, Shush, Nan. He said it sharp, like he was giving orders to a soldier. Benny looked at Jim then.

The way Jim had said it, he'd have thought he was nervous. Like he knew why Benny had come and that he didn't want to have it happen to be shown up in front of Nan. Jim said, Why don't you take off your things and join us, Benny? We're just sitting around waiting for Nan's folks to get home from the club. Come on, Benny. We'll have some jive. I brought Nan some new records tonight. Swell new Basie. Have you heard it? Shaming him because he never brought any records to Nan.

Jim didn't stop talking. He kept coaxing him like Benny was a little kid, asking him to have a soda with him, just like Benny was still a high school kid instead of a man. Hero Jim, the plaster saint, acting like he never had a slug of gin, trying to make her think he was a Galahad and Benny a no-good bum.

Why, I was just telling Nan we hadn't seen you for a long time. Wondered what had happened to you, why you didn't come around. Yeah, sure, rubbing salt in the wounds, acting like he and Nan were married, trying to show Benny up for an outsider. Nan stopped Jim, a hard, icy crust of anger around her soft red mouth. What do you want, Benny? If you have anything to say, say it and get out. If you haven't, get out. Her voice was like a whip.

And Jim said, Oh, you shouldn't have said that, Nan. Benny's come to see you. I told him I wouldn't see him tonight. He knew I was busy tonight. I'll tell him now to his face what I told you. I don't ever want to see you again. Now get out! Nan! Jim's voice wasn't steady.

He twisted some kind of a smile at Benny. Come on, Benny. Sit down. Let's talk everything over. Now, Nan didn't mean it. We're all friends. We've been friends for years. Now, sit down and have a soda. Benny brought his hand out of his pocket then. He had a smile on his face, too, but it hurt his mouth. He had a little trouble getting his hand out of his pocket and holding onto that thing at the same time, but it came out and the gun was still in his hand.

Jim saw it, and he had sweat on his upper lip and above his eyebrows. He was yellow, just like Benny had known he'd be. Korea Jim, Hero Jim, was scared to death. Jim's voice didn't sound scared. It was quiet and calm and easy. Well, uh, where'd you get that, Benny? Let me see it, will ya? Benny didn't say anything. He just held a gun. Sweat trickled down Jim's nose. He laughed, but it wasn't a good laugh. Well...

What do you want with a gun, Benny? Might hurt somebody if you aren't careful with it. Come on, let me see it. He'd had enough. He rode Jim standing there like a dope, like he'd never seen a gun before. Now it was Benny's time to laugh, but the gun made too much noise. Nobody could have heard him laughing with all that noise. Even if Nan hadn't started screaming standing there, her eyes crazier, face like an old woman's, just screaming and screaming and screaming. Shh!

He only turned the gun on her to make her keep quiet. He didn't mean that she should fall down and spread on the floor like Jim. They looked silly, the two of them, like big sawdust dolls crumpled there in the rug, scared to death, scared even to look at them. That's the way a hero acted when a real guy came around, like a soft, silly girl lying down on his face, not moving a muscle, lying on his face like a dog. The room was so quiet, he could hear the beat of his heart.

Oh, he'd had enough of their wallowing of their being scared. He said, get up. You look crazy lying there. Get up. Suddenly he should have. Get up. Then louder. Get up. Scared to death. Scared to death. The gun made such a little noise dropping to the rug. His fingers couldn't hold it.

They couldn't get up. They could never get up. He had meant to do it. He wouldn't hurt Nan, not for anything in the world. He loved her. She was his girl. He wouldn't kill. He wouldn't kill anyone. He hadn't. They were doing this to get even with him. He began to shout again, Get up! Get up! But his voice didn't sound like his own voice. It was shaky like his mouth and his hands and the wet back of his neck. He started over to take hold of Jim and make him stop acting like he was dead. He started...

One step, and that was all. Because he knew that whatever he said or did couldn't make them move. They were dead. When his mind actually spoke the word, he ran, bolting from out of the house, stumbling off the stoop, down the steps to the curb, and there he retched. When he was through, he was too weak to stand. There were lights in most of the houses. You'd think the neighbors would have heard all that noise, would have come running out to see what was going on. They probably thought it was the radio.

If they'd come, they'd have stopped him. He didn't want to kill anyone. Even Jim, just scare him off. Oh, Nan couldn't be dead. She couldn't be, she couldn't be, she couldn't be. He sobbed the words into the wind, in the dark, in the dead brown leaves. He sat there a long, long time. When he stood up, his face was wet. He rubbed his eyes, but the rain came into them again, spilling down his cheeks, filling up, overflowing, refilling. He ought to go back and...

close the door the house would get cold with it standing wide open but but he couldn't go back not even for his gun he started down the street not knowing where he was going not seeing anything but the wet dark world he no longer feared the sound and the shadow behind him there was no terror as bad as the hurt in his head and his heart as he moved on without direction

he saw through the mist the pinpricks of green light in the night the police station he knew then where he was going where he must go the tears ran down his cheeks into his mouth they tasted like blood a powerful story indeed and now nelson of what's the second story like quite different ben

This one is a light-hearted and, to me at least, delightful fantasy by Virginia Swain called Aunt Cassie. It was odd, Edward Alden thought, as he struggled with his dress tie, how one little old lady, really very kind and well-intentioned, could so rub a whole family the wrong way. All this, too, in front of a guest.

That the guest was only that nincompoop boy, John Nesbitt, whom Eileen thought she was in love with, made it worse, not better. In front of Johnny, Mary had called Aunt Cassie an old dodo, and Eileen a hysterical little fool. And he, Edward, had shouted at them both to keep quiet, and when they wouldn't, he'd rushed out of the room and slam the door. Only Aunt Cassie had behaved like a perfect lady.

She had come teetering on her dainty feet into the room where Eileen was entertaining Johnny and said in the careful diction acquired in 1875 at the Oxford Female Seminary, "'Eileen, dear, your great-uncle Horace is standing behind you there. He wants to tell you that in our family, young ladies never sit up after ten o'clock with young gentlemen to whom they're not engaged.'

Eileen had given one blank look and then begun to cry, and her parents had come running. Mary, with a horrified look at Eileen, sobbing and crumpled on the sofa, had made a lot of unintelligible clucking sounds, shot a glance of pure hatred at Johnny Nesbitt, and turned to Edward in a way that showed she meant him to deal with this, Aunt Cassie being his aunt, not hers. Aunt Cassie caught her look and turned to Edward, too. She said, Well, you understand, Nettie, it's not my opinion, only Uncle Horace's.

"'He's been trying for days to tell Eileen, but I met him in the linen closet yesterday, and he said that since you were all too stubborn to see or to hear him, I'd better tell her. He said, "'Tell that girl. That's not the way to catch a husband.' Her voice was sweet and low, and she smiled with innocent affection upon them all. It was then that Mary had called her an old dodo, and Eileen had stopped whimpering and begun bawling, and he had yelled at them all and gone out and slammed the door.'

He could recall how Johnny had sat like an ugly gingerbread man in his brown suit bolt upright at his end of the couch. He was still annoyed with Eileen. It was embarrassing for the kid, of course, but she had been trained for 12 years in the proper way to deal with this crotchet of Aunt Cassie's. And she should have risen to the emergency last night.

When Aunt Cassie came to live with them, Eileen was six, and they'd explained everything to her. If Aunt Cassie spoke to someone who wasn't there, she was only dreaming, and you ignored it. If Aunt Cassie pointed out to you someone that you couldn't see yourself, you said yes, politely, and remembered that old ladies live a great deal in the past, and sometimes it makes them happier to pretend that persons who are gone are still around them. Eileen had accepted it like a good little sport, and together the three of them had weathered 12 years of Aunt Cassie.

She was a decent old girl in every other way. She mended all their clothes and made spiced pickles and jellies and kept herself attractive with nice old lace and rather coquettish dresses of gray and lavender. She had her own money. Not much, but enough to pay her own way. Yes, he had to admit, pushing his starched shirt flat and watching it buckle out again, she paid a little more than her own way.

If she weren't helping with the household bills, he couldn't have afforded to buy that second-hand car for Eileen's graduation present last June. Also, her doing the sewing gave Mary more time for her club work. But he acquitted himself of any mercenary motive for having Aunt Cassie in his house. He was fond of her, and she had done a good deal for him when he was young. But by heaven, if she was going to upset Mary and Eileen...

Oh, now, suddenly his anger veered around. Eileen needed a good talking to. Oh, she was a nice girl, but Mary spoiled her rotten. She had no sense of responsibility, no gratitude. She'd been downright unpleasant tonight about his taking her car, which he himself had given her as a graduation present. He was going to take it regardless. With his own car in the shop and this insurance banquet 20 miles away, there was nothing else for him to do. When he'd given up trying to keep his shirt front flat and had brushed his hair for the

He walked across to the chest of drawers and pulled out a whiskey bottle from under a pile of shirts. He took a good long pull at it. Then he filled a flat silver flask and put it in his hip pocket and put the bottle back in the drawer. When he went down to the dining room, the three women were standing there waiting for him. Mary, rather quiet and shamefaced, came across and hunched his dinner jacket up in the back over his collar and patted him. Eileen looked sulky.

She cast a young, disdainful eye over his gala costume and said, ''You be careful of those brakes, Dad. The car shouldn't be driven that far until they're fixed. There's ice all the way to New Canaan, and they haven't sanded it yet.'' ''I'll be careful,'' he said, looking at the decanters on the sideboard. ''It was going to be a cold drive, and if he took a little shot from one of those, he'd have his flask intact for the evening.''

He let Mary help him on with his coat and hand him his gloves. He stiffened his knees, and somehow that made his shirt front pop. But he walked masterfully to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. Aunt Cassie said, My goodness, there's Betsy. There was silence for a moment, except for the noise Edward made in swallowing his whiskey suddenly. Must seem funny to you, Neddy, to hear your mother called Betsy. I know that Yankee preacher she married always called her Elizabeth, but down home she was Betsy.

She turned slightly away from him, toward the doorway. ''Yes, Betsy? What is it?'' Again there was silence. But in the silence, the three of them, Mary, Eileen and Edward, turned against their wills to face the door. ''After twelve years, you'd think they'd stop doing that.'' Aunt Cassie was nodding her head and then shaking it. ''Oh, yes, Betsy, I know. He's drinking too much spirits. It's bad for his blood pressure. He ought to let the stuff alone when he's going to drive a car.''

She paused. ''Yes, yes, I know you died before automobiles became common. Nowadays, the police will arrest you if they catch you driving when you're drinking. Betsy, have you seen much of Mother lately?''

Edward set the glass down on the edge of the chest so that it tottered and fell off, spilling a few drops of whiskey on Mary's prized oriental rug. He glanced at her and saw that she looked angry, but whether with him or with Aunt Cassie, he couldn't judge. He seized his gloves again and went out in a hurry. He had to check his pace in the front steps because they were slippery. The road wasn't so terribly slick.

Once out of town, he stepped harder on the gas and said to himself... ...that there was no danger so long as he didn't have to use his brakes suddenly... ...and he wouldn't have to, for there was nobody else on the road. He'd just have time to make his appointment if he got up speed. He began to hum to himself. He took a back road north of Darien, which cut four miles off the trip...

People avoided it because it was narrow and one point crawled for some distance along an edge of a ravine. That made him laugh. He knew that road like a book. He felt good and warm inside and competent. His headlights cut a brave swath in front of him. Going was wonderful. Smooth as glass where the ice covered the ruts he had met there the last time. He was going to get to his banquet on time.

The lights that cut across him from the curve ahead blinded him completely. The roadster jerked and waltzed and skittered and dropped into space. Later, when he pulled himself out from under Eileen's wrecked car, his first thought was to notify the state police. Well, that guy hadn't even stopped. He made his way back home. He was dry enough. At least he felt dry. Perhaps because his clothes were frozen.

Even his shirt stopped popping and stood out like a balloon in front of him. During the last mile, when he was really beginning to feel somewhat light and giddy, he steadied himself by thinking, Oh, Eileen will never fit seeing me coming in looking like this.

But he was so glad when he turned into a street and saw his home that he forgot the ruined roadster in the gorge, the criminal carelessness of the fellow who had pinned those sons on his fender, even the lurking suspicion that if he had not taken those two big slugs of whiskey and an empty stomach, he could have checked the crazy dancing of the flipper. He climbed the steps, went into the house. The hall and front parlor were dark.

The women used the back parlor after dinner. Mary, busy at her needlepoint. Eileen, poking a tune out of the piano. Aunt Cassie, darning socks or reading beside the gas fire. He tried to shrug off his outer coat, but they wouldn't leave him. When he reached to take off his hat, he remembered that it was icebound somewhere in the hollow between Darien and New Canaan. He struck numb, stiff fingers against his shirt front and saw that they made no impression on it. All right, then. He'd go back into the back parlor as is. Wait till they heard what had happened to him.

He'd have to buy Eileen another car, only fair when he had ruined hers. As he went through the front parlor, he thought of last night and Johnny Nesbitt and wondered why he'd let it perturb him. There was nothing to worry about. Mary loved him. Eileen loved him. Two delightful women who made up his life. From behind the double doors, he heard conversation. Eileen said, Oh, it was mean of him to take my car tonight. He knows Johnny and I always go to the movies on Saturday night.

And then Mary said rather feebly, he thought, well, he did have to go to that dinner. Edward took a step forward and stood in the wide doorway. The women were at the other end of the long room. For a moment, he thought Eileen had seen him, but she couldn't have because she dropped her eyes calmly again to her hands, lying listlessly in her lap. There was only one lamp burning in the room beside Mary's chair. He felt deflated because nobody had looked up and cried out with horror at his battered appearance.

He crept into the shadowy end of the room and sat down close to the dull glow of the grate. But still they didn't notice him. Eileen was absorbed in her own discontent. She turned back to face her mother and said, Why couldn't you have picked me a better father, mother? You must have been a darn attractive when you were a girl. He turned in agony to look at Mary. But she wasn't looking shocked or angry, only puzzled and a little sad. And she said, Well, Eileen...

"'It may surprise you, but he was considered very attractive, too, when he was young. And I couldn't foresee Aunt Cassie, you know.' "'He could bear no more of this. He sprang from his chair and strode toward them into the circle of the lamplight. "'Mary,' he said. "'Mary, I'm here. I had a wreck, but I got home all right.' "'Nothing happened. Eileen went on pacing up and down, and his wife didn't raise her eyes from her embroidery.'

There was a light tapping her feet on the hardwood floor outside the parlor door. He knew it was Aunt Cassie, and he was annoyed because he wanted to get this straightened out with Mary and Eileen. Aunt Cassie was just inside the door now, and she said in her bright social manner, Well, Nettie, how is it over there? When you see Uncle Horace, tell him to pay me a visit. Was there anything particular you want me to tell Mary and Eileen?

You can turn up the lights now. You can look around you. Nobody is there, really. Everything is all right, isn't it? Tonight we have heard Nelson Olmsted telling two stories. Homecoming by Dorothy B. Hughes and Aunt Cassie by Virginia Swain. What can we expect next week, Nelson?

Two stories, Ben, which are quite different. Zona Gale's rather wistful story of a man with a frightening imagination. It's entitled Evening. The next is by H.G. Wells, entitled The Flowering of the Strange Orchid. And believe me, it is strange. Join us if you're up to it. ♪♪

You have been listening to Sleep No More, an NBC Radio Network production directed by Daniel Sutter. Mr. Armstead's albums are recorded exclusively for Vanguard Records. Until next week, when Nelson Armstead will again be here in person, this is Ben Grauer bidding you good night. ♪♪

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

The Blue Room by Ava May People always said there was something weird about the Blue Room. It's an ugly brick thing in the corner of the girls' bogs. More space than a normal cubicle, but still creepy. If you've got the curse, you can clean yourself up and then you want to get out before it clings to you. Like the stale leftover smell from a fry-up. Should have been an ideal place for a quick fag.

But no one wanted to know. Everyone puffed away out back, even in blinking winter. Everyone except Kaz and Nicky. They were the hardest girls in the school. And they weren't scared of nothing. Get up, will ya? Kaz! That's Carol to you. Now get lost. Carol. She was the toughest. She had matching silver studs through her lips, nose and eyebrow. All up the side of her face she sneered at you from.

just before she hit you. There's no sanitary bins out here. Only in the blue room. This is my office. We're scared of you. You're a slapper. And your mate Nicky still wets her bed. Everyone knows you. Get away! Teach her a lesson, Kaz. That was Nicky. She was a carol wannabe, but she was a marshmallow, soft inside. She was always in high heels, even in the snow.

And all her books were covered in pink hearts. She'd probably have had a boyfriend if she'd ditched Carol and smiled a bit more and wasn't so mean. Could tell she'd had it rough. She had that pitiful look about her. My brother will beat you up if you touch me. Marcus? Had him last night when you were in bed saying your prayers. And Clyde. And Alan. And Dave. Nicky! Shut up! Where you been anyway? Playing at Mangy Morris. Almost got caught. I had to leg it. Huh.

Get a bag. Notebook. Fantic pen. Mobile phone. Hey, nice phone. She's got more than 20 quid's credit here. Little rich bitch. Where'd you hide the fags? I got them. Sick of your face already. Find some soap and get these a good rinse. And stick them under the drone. And stay there till we call you.

You won't believe what they made me do. Suppose I asked for it when I opened my big mouth and called Kaz a slapper. Wanted them to think I was hard. Didn't want them to see how scared I was, did I? Should have just kept a lid on it. I'm sorry.

That Mangy Morris puts us on report. Nah, he can't touch us, man. Not after we started that fire outside his office and told everyone he'd be with prostitutes. We rule this school. Yeah, he gives a drag. Why is it called the Blue Room when it's dingy green? Bit creepy, innit? Like, maybe someone died in here or something. Shut up. What are we going to do when we get thrown out of this dump?

Car is on tonight. I mean, next term. When we leave school. I'm gonna be a celebrity. Go to parties, pull rich boyfriends, drive a flash motor. Be on TV. Wicked. Live in Los Angeles. What? I don't know. Somewhere hot and exotic. Barbados? Yeah. Posh and Beck's got a house there. Yeah, man. And what about you? Get a good night's sleep. Huh? I get nightmares.

What about? Nothing. It don't matter. Suit yourself. How Nicky and Kaz hung out in that creepy blue room was beyond me. It was dark and it was nasty. They should have left when they had the chance. Because the feeling in them loos had got very weird. And I didn't like it. Not one bit. What? What?

I can't get it all out. Stop whinging. There's no hot water. What's your point? Get on with it, annoying little flea. I was beginning to feel like I'd never get out of there. My instincts were screaming at me to run, but I was scared stiff of what they'd do to me when they caught me. We're sorry. Your call cannot be completed and dialed. Please check the number and dial again or call again.

Everyone gets nightmares, it's nothing special. So... Yeah, I know. Just don't talk about it. Guess we're not really best mates then. Seeing as you don't share nothing. We are! You'll always be my best mate. Next time Maxine comes in here with me, you wait outside. Kaz, no! Well? I got sent away when I was five.

You only get nice mums in the movies. Mine just didn't want me anymore. You okay? What's the matter? Nikki? How long do I have to stay? Can I come home with you? I'll be good. Please, Mum. Don't leave me here. I don't like it. Mum! Mum, don't leave me! I couldn't work out what was happening. I thought I'd heard Nikki scream. It must have been her. Because Kaz would have rather stuck nails in her eyes than risk her rep like that.

Kaz? Er, Carol? Here you are. Can I have my bag back now, please? I was dying to know what was going on, but the thought of Kaz thumping me one was scary, so I sat there like a lemon, not daring to move a muscle as everything got weirder and weirder. Did you hear that? Oh, handles bust. No wonder it's so warm in here. There it is again. Typical. Nothing works in this dump. Snakes! Snakes!

Tracy's got Will Smith's number in here. How'd the little idiot get that? The number you have reached is not in service at this time. Oh, forget him. Who else has the little slag got in here? Robbie Williams. Millenium. Dirty little tart's got rude pics of Robbie in her phone. Oh, man. Who else has she got in here?

Mom's shopping, Uncle Frank. I don't know when she'll be back. Jay-Z! No! She's only got the number of, like, the richest, hottest, sexiest rapper on the planet. Flippin' heck! We're sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Oh, I can't spend the rest of my life in this. Mom! Cruise. Gorgeous. And rich.

Just waiting for me to brighten up his life. Never mind that Katie what's her face. I wasn't surprised to hear them using me phone. But who's the old bag? Swear no one walked past me. And there's no other way in or out the blue room. But he's got a lovely ding dong. A real one. The number you're calling is not in service.

Nikki, give me your phone. What's the matter with you? Open this door. Carol, something's happened to you. Check the mirror. It looks like I'm a hundred years old. Don't look. You might go back to normal. What's happening to me? Just close your eyes. It's the phone. Give it here.

I don't know what I was expecting when I finally got in there, but Nikki was in a right state. Snot hanging out her nose, her hair frazzled, high heels kicked across the room. Can I open my eyes now? Oh, I'm still old. What am I going to do, Nikki? Carol had aged 80 years. She looked disgusted, like she was already dead.

Then I heard what they must have heard all along. Snakes. Come outside, Nicky. Let's get out of this room. You'll feel better. Forget her. What about me? I can't stay like this. Look, look at me. There was nothing I could do for Kaz. She was stuck being old. Nicky couldn't move. Must have been in shock from her own nightmares.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up all by themselves and I had shivers up and down my spine. Didn't matter how hard you were or how hard you tried to be, the Blue Room was gonna get you one way or another. I'd left Kaz's knickers in the sink with the tap running full on, but when I got back the tap had stopped all by itself.

In the Blue Room by Ava Ming, Tracy was played by Aisling Caffery, Carol by Katerina Pushkin and Nikki by Lauren Hopkins. The director was Paul Arnold.

*BOOM*

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

The story you are about to hear is true, but strange. Night comes, day like this. I brought you out here to talk, Alice. Talk about us. Yes, boss? Of course, it throws me off my bearings.

Like as not I'll pile the westward up on Dead Man's Reef the way you put everything else out of my mind. God, have you talked to my father? You know I have. Only one I ain't talked to is you. I can't seem to get him to know. Well, and here I am. Yeah. Alice. What is that? What happens with Dead Man's Bell? Bart, there's somebody hanging on the buoys, ringing the bell as a signal. Someone's in danger.

ABC Radio Network presents Strange, True Stories of the Supernatural, with your narrator, famous author, lecturer, and expert on strange and weird events, Walter Gibson. Thank you, Charles Woods. There are many treacherous reefs off the rocky coast of Maine, but none more dangerous than Dead Man's Reef.

And there is no true story stranger than the story of the voice out of the storm. While the westward stood off dead man's reef, a small boat was lowered and went in toward the buoy. Fortunately, the water was of empty tide, quiet and calm. The man who was picked off the buoy lapsed into unconsciousness and opened his eyes in the ship's cabin to see Alice bending over him. I guess I'm going to heaven.

Angel like you. You would have very soon if it hadn't been for Bart. Bart? Mm-hmm. First mate on the Westwood. He went in and took you off the buoy. I'll have to thank him. We're taking you into shore now. You're in bad shape. Yeah, I guess so. Five days drifting is no help for anybody. Is that what happened to you? A schooner found it in the Northeaster. Oh. I don't know who else made it. I found a plank waterlogged.

I had to swim. If you hadn't been able to signal with that bell, you'd have been done for. The plank was going under. I saw the buoy and swam for it. That's all I remember. You were about to slip off back into the water again. That would have been the end. Gee, I have to thank Bart for saving my life. What you have to do now is rest for a good long while. Plenty of rest. Yeah, I guess so. And I can't think of a better nurse than you. Beep.

My name's Phil Dandy. What's yours? Even then, it was obvious to Alice Tripp that the rescued man was falling in love with her. And although she refused to admit it even to herself, there was something about him that made her almost forget Bart. And a week later, Bart put it into words.

Great. A police guy of Demand's reaped more dead than alive. And now I'm the one that's dead. Sparrow, what are you talking about? About that Denby guy. Been in your house all week, hasn't he? You've been nursing him back to health. Boy, it was the least I could do. This is a small town, ain't no hospital.

Boy, Phil's great, eh? He said so, hasn't he? Yeah, yeah. Now it's Phil, huh? Well, I can't quite call him Mr. Dendy, can I? Alice, you remember what we were talking about a week ago out in the westward before that bell began to ring? I never got around to asking you, but I still feel the same way. You know I do. I was... Boy, see, it's not now. No, like that, huh? I...

I don't want to hate you. Sure not. I shouldn't ask, is that it? Okay, let's talk about something else. It's a lovely day, isn't it? That's a good, safe subject. Now, if you're going to ask that... Why shouldn't I? For five years I've been thinking of you. Seeing you most every day, first mate on your father's boat. All of a sudden, some guy comes ashore, a piece of driftwood.

I should have left him there, right there on Dead Man's Reef. Bart, he'll be on board with you. He'll what? Yes, on the westward. Your father gave him a job? Yes, as soon as he's well. If he comes on board, I'll... I'll... You'll what? Nothing. I spoke a little hasty. All right, Alice. If that's the way the wind blows, I can't whistle against it. I'll get over it. Just give me time. I'll get over it.

A week later, Phil Denby was better. He was taken on as a four-deck hand on the westward. He sailed several trips to the Grand Banks from Mackerel and back to harbor again. And each time, he and Bart got along very well.

A fair wind and a good catch, Alice. No trouble out or back. I wasn't thinking about the weather, Sue. I am. The wind has shifted. This next trip, I figure we'll run into some rough storms on the way back. I... Oh, you mean me and Boyd, huh? Yes. Yeah. There are times he looks at me. How? You know how. After all, I got a good idea about how he feels about you. Everybody in town knew he was going with you steady. We never had an understanding. I didn't say you did.

Still, Alex, how about me? How do you feel about me? I don't... I don't really know, Phil. I know my feelings toward you. I told you before. I love you, Alex. Phil, I just can't be sure. Why not? You don't love Bart, or do you?

Or are you waiting for some sign? I'm telling you honestly how I feel. You wouldn't want me to... What's the matter? It's nothing. All of a sudden you're pale. Here, let me feel your forehead. Alice, you've got yourself a fever. You'd better get to bed right away. The next time the westward sailed for the Grand Bank, Alice Tripp was not on the dock to wave her off. She was in bed with a bad case of pneumonia.

And Phil Denby's forecast about the weather came true also. The westward had no trouble outbound, but on the way back, the seas mounted into a full gale. Encore! Order, encore! Flack your eyes, Denby! You want to pilot on up on Deadman's Reef? No!

The storm continued, pounding away at the hull. As the ship approached landfall, all eyes kept a sharp lookout for the buoy that marked treacherous dead man's reef. And Phil Denby noticed that Bart kept looking at him in a strange way. What's biting you, Bart? Every time I turn my back, I get the feeling you're looking daggers at me. What's going on inside your head?

Bart did not answer. The westward beat its way through the darkness. Then suddenly, only a mile or so off the reef... Run over, Bart! Run over, Bart! There wasn't anything we could do, Mrs. Creepo. Not a thing. Now don't blame yourself, Bart. He was swept right away. We couldn't even come about to make a search. We'd have been blown right up on the reef. I know, I know. My husband told me.

How's Alice? Well, she was getting better. Then yesterday, she had a turn for the worse. Yesterday? Mm-hmm. Just about the time? Yes, about the time you lost Phil Denby overboard. Oh, I hesitate to tell her. Don't. Wait until she's stronger. Storm's still going, isn't it? Aye. Near a full day since we made harbor.

But it's still blowing. What's that? Sounds like a window banging. That's Alice's room, isn't it? How did a window get open in her room? Yes, he's got us. Yes, I'm here. Yes, the bell. The bell. Alice. Alice. Alice.

No. No, leave it open. Candy, there's a window with a gate. It's still blowing and you think... He's out there. I hear him. What? Save me. It's dead man's wreath. I'm on the boy. Save me. You're out of your head. I can see him. He's clinging to it.

He can't hang on much longer. Alice, you're sick. Here. No, no, I won't go to bed. Let's go. He's there. I've got to help him. Are you crazy? He's not there. You're just dreaming of the time we picked him up. That boy's just dreaming. No, Bart, no. Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me like that, I tell you. I did. I didn't. All right. The wind is going down a bit. I'll go out there. I'll go out there right away. No!

And that's where Phil Denby was, where he had been before. Somehow, in the storm and wind, he had managed to swim to the buoy. When the rescue boat got to him... I got him. I got him. He's still alive. Steady while I bring him aboard. You heard me, Alice. I sent out a prayer and you heard me. Yes, Phil, I did.

without ever knowing that you were overboard off the Westwood. And now you're better, and you know you love me? Yes. Yes, I do. We'll get married. But, Phil. Yes? When you went overboard, was it an accident or did Bart really... Alice, let's not talk about it. He saved me. Let's just leave it at that. THE END

© BF-WATCH TV 2021

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital. ♪

Suspense. This is the Man in Black, here again to introduce Columbia's program, Suspense. Our star tonight is Peter Lorre, playing the part of the Hungarian Count Stefan Kajari, a gentleman of sinister aspect. The story is by John Dixon Carr, who calls it The Devil's Saint. If you've been with us on these Tuesday nights,

You will know that suspense is compounded in mystery and suspicion and dangerous adventure. In this series, our tales calculated to intrigue you, to stir your nerves, to offer you a precarious situation, and then withhold the solution till the last possible moment. And so, it is with The Devil's Saint and Mr. Peter Lorre's performance we again hope to keep you in... Suspense.

The Devil's Saint. Paris, 15 years ago. Paris as it used to be, when lights twinkled from the old Trocadero to the hill of Sacré-Cœur, when taxi cabs honked and the beat of tango swayed, and Chinese lanterns gleamed above the lake in the Bois, when, in short, you and I were young.

Come then to the President's Ball at the Opera. St. Catherine's Day, 1927.

A fancy dress ball at the opera, filling these marble halls with a multitude of masks and a multitude of dreams. The mosaic decorations are no less bright than the colors that weave here. Hallequins and Columbine, Cleopatra and Musketeers. In the great marble foyer, remember it? They have set out little tables and lines of palms behind which you may sit screened. Look at one such table.

A young man wearing the scarlet and gold uniform of an English guard officer in Wellington's day. A dark-haired young girl in the costume of a Bacante. And as we approach... Ned, don't, please. You mustn't. Why not? You really don't mind, do you? No, of course I don't mind. Oh, you mustn't.

Oh, Ned. Look here, Ilona. We've got to settle this thing. You have enjoyed being here tonight, haven't you? Ned, I've loved it. After being cooped up at my uncle's place in the country, it's like heaven. All right. When I take you back to the hotel, I'm going to face this uncle of yours tonight. No. No, please don't. I'm going to say that you and I intend to get married, and that's that. Oh, Ned.

I can't marry you, Nath. I've told you that. But why not? Just give me one good reason. Because I can't. My uncle, he would never allow it. Never. And that seems to you a good reason enough?

Yes, Ned? This uncle of yours, what's his name? Count Stefan Kohari. He's a Hungarian, I think you said. Yes, so am I. My mother was an American. What's he like, actually? Oh, he's a little eccentric. Oh, please don't misunderstand. He's a great scholar and a historian, only he's a little strange. He...

Ned. What is it? There he is now. Your uncle? Yes, that elegant man in plain evening clothes with the aura of the golden fleece across his chest. Oh, I see him. He looks as black as a thundercloud. He's throwing those two dressed as devils aside as though they didn't exist. Give me my mask quick before he sees us. No, Ilona. Why not? We'd better face this out now. Sit still.

Good evening, Ilona. Good evening, Uncle Stefan. Uncle, may I present Edward Whiteford. How do you do, sir? How do you do?

Ilona, do you think that costume is quite the thing to wear in public? Why not? Well, an older generation might call it immodest. It looks like... Like what? Nothing. Will you go and get your cloak or your domino or whatever you wore here? Uncle, please don't make me go home so soon. It's hardly 11 o'clock. I was not asking you to go home, my dear. I was merely asking you to put on a wrap. All right, I'll get it. You stay and talk to Ned. I shall be delighted.

Will you sit down, sir? Thank you. You seem to have quite a gathering at this table. Yes. Some friends of mine from the embassy, they're upstairs dancing now. Well, look, gases, gases, and still more gases. You know, I was quite an addict once at musical gases. Have you ever tried it, young man? Well, it's very easy. You take a spoon like this, you see, and like it.

Forgive me, sir, but there's something I'd like to ask you. Yes? I don't know exactly how to say this, so I'd better say it in the shortest way. I want to marry your niece. Well, you'll cut, sir. You smashed one of the glasses. A few francs will pay for that. But there are other things of higher value, at least to me.

Oh, maybe I ought to mention first that my full name is Lord Edward Whiteford. My father's the Earl of Grey. Indeed. Why only mention that to show we're, well, respectable enough. Well, the British ambassador will vouch for me, sir, if you'd like to ring him up. And perhaps I ought to mention that I've always kept Ilona carefully guarded from the world. Almost too carefully guarded, don't you see? That, Lord Edward, depends on my reasons. Sorry, sir.

You have known Ilona about how long? Four days. Four days. You wouldn't even choose a business partner in four days. Yet to want to marry my Ilona after four days. But we know our own mind, sir. You do, huh? Then you know more than the wisest man in this world. However, as one whose dearest wish is Ilona's happiness, I hope it is, Count Cahari. Do you doubt what I say? Oh, no, sir. Oh, well.

I will make you a proposition. I own an estate in Turin, not far from Paris. A little chateau, a few hundred acres, fishing. Very good stable of horses. I know. Lona told me. Oh, she did? Well, then here is my suggestion. Why not come down and visit us for a week or two? That's very decent of you, sir. Not at all, not at all.

And if at the end of that time you're not cured of this infatuation... Oh, it's not an infatuation. I swear it's not. No? Well, if at the end of that time you're not cured permanently of this feeling... you may take it, Orla. And with my blessing...

That's fair, isn't it? Oh, it's more than fair, Cackle Harry. I don't know how to thank you. Oh, please, don't even try. And at least I can promise you a very interesting experience.

You see, at the Chateau d'Azay, there is one certain bedroom. We call it the tapestry room. Yes? Well, I assure you, it will be very interesting for you to sleep in that room. Why? Is it haunted or something? Oh, no. No, no, no. Not haunted.

Well, now, if you don't mind, I shall say good night, and I hope I can trust you to bring Ilona safely to the hotel. Au revoir. Look over there. What is it, sir? Just look. Streams of our fellow guests pouring down the main staircase. Shapes of nightmare. Shapes of delirium. Insane, dead masks. Only the eyes move.

Wouldn't we be terrified, perhaps, if he would look behind those gargoyle faces? Oh, I don't think so. They're only ordinary people like ourselves. That sure is where you make your mistake. Well, I shall expect you for the weekend, and encore in front. Au revoir. Au revoir.

Ned! Ned! It's all right, Alona. You can come out from behind those palms. What was he saying? I couldn't hear. Alona, it couldn't be better. He's a very decent old boy, actually. And he's invited me to the Chateau d'Azay. Did he say anything about the tapestry room? Yes. He invited me to sleep there. And you said? I said I would, naturally. You mustn't do it, Ned. I won't let you do it. Why the devil not? Because everybody who sleeps in that room...

Dies. Dies? Are you serious? Oh, Ned, please don't do it. Oh, nonsense. There are a lot of superstitions about every old house. This isn't a superstition, Ned. It happened once when I was a little girl. A man insisted on sleeping there. They found him dead in the morning. So? How did he die? They don't know. There wasn't a mark on his body. He wasn't shot or stabbed or strangled or poisoned or hurt in any way.

He was just dead. Two nights later, in the province of France, now known as André-et-Laware, but once called Touraine, the ancient land beloved of Rabelais and Balzac. But now, as the wind moans down the valleys, and rain flickers across the apple trees and thunder stirs in those haunted hills...

It can bring little comfort to a young man driven in an ancient carriage from the railway station along snake-like roads. To what destination?

Ahead, a lift of lightning shows the grey walls and conical slate-roofed towers of a chateau set some distance back from the road. Light shines from its narrow windows, dimly seen through the rain edge. -Sliber! Coachman! -Oui, monsieur. -Is that the Chateau d'Azay up ahead? -Oui, monsieur. I will take you to the very door if... if what?

Why do you cross yourself? If I am permitted. What's it stop to? Only here, monsieur. And I am not much afraid. Listen. Oh, sir. Only the dogs, monsieur. They keep many dogs, large dogs, at the Chateau d'Azay. Well, here we are. Bonsoir, monsieur. And...

If I may be permitted a word of advice? Well? Beware of the tapestry room. There isn't a bell on this door. There might at least be a knocker. Ah, got it.

Yes.

monsieur's at uncle thank you ned hello elona oh my uncle you'd better not kiss me ned madame flay says to look out for my uncle madame flay is our housekeeper oh where's your uncle now in the drawing room he's playing the piano come along is anything wrong oh everything's wrong two of my dogs were in horrible pain this afternoon doctor

Dr. Solomon had to put them out with chloroform. You don't seem to... I hope nobody's practicing, that's all. Well, here we are. Oh, nice tiger skins on the floor. I say, who's the little old man with the gray beard sitting over there by the fire? That's Dr. Solomon. Oh, doesn't he have funny looking eyes? Watches and watches and watches. He's an old friend of the family. Shh, come along. Let's get this over with.

Ah, Lord Edward. Well, I see my niece has anticipated me. Welcome to the Chateau d'Azay. Thank you, Count Harry. Oh, you must be very wet after your long drive. Go up to the fire and warm yourself. Madame Faye. Yes, monsieur? Please tell Antoine to take our guest's luggage up to the tapestry room. The tapestry room, monsieur? That is what I said, Madame Faye. Yes, monsieur.

An odd coincidence, Lord Edward. Dr. Solomon and I were just discussing the fate of the last person who slept in the tapestry room. This is not good, my friend.

This is against my advice. It's against his advice. You're Dr. Solomon Croke. This is not good, I tell you. It is the wrong season of the moon. The wrong moon. But there is no moon tonight. It's raining cats and dogs. Don't talk about dogs. Nevertheless...

It is the wrong season of the moon. I say no more. Cheerful blighter, that doctor. Don't do it, Ned. I won't be responsible if they make you do it. But look here, Count O'Harry. What did happen to the last bloke who slept in the tapestry room? You mustn't call him a bloke, sir. He was a very saintly gentleman. The bishop of Tours. That was some time ago when Delona was only 15 years old, but surely she must remember it. I remember it.

the church said our bishop has no use for superstitions well he insisted on sleeping there i made it as comfortable for him as possible but he was found dead next morning with a crucifix still in his hand

Was it poison? There was no poison, monsieur. No. Here, Dr. Solomon. It's true, Ned. Well, there were just two very curious things. You see, in connection with that day, on a mantelpiece there was found burning a stick of incense.

Just ordinary incense. Nothing wrong with it. Yes, sir? And under the dressing table, the police found it was an empty jar of ointment. Now, here's your wits. A dead man, some burning incense, and an empty jar of ointment. What do you make of that? I don't make anything of it. It's crazy. You cannot speak like that.

I'm sorry? It is still the wrong season of the moon. What I really meant, sir, was this. Is there any reason for this story of death? Reason? Any legend attached to the rumor or anything like that? Yes, there is. Well, sir? Well, we are a very old family, Lord Edward. Old and perhaps accursed. When my ancestors moved from Hungary to France in the 17th century, they brought certain beliefs with them.

The old religion. The old religion? Yes, the cult of Diana. The cult of Janus. The cult of freedom and fertility. The witch cult, if you prefer. Oh, now look, yes, I... Must we talk about this? Well, you smile, but when I say the word witch, you think of some humorous picture on a Halloween's card.

It was very different in the Middle Ages, believe me. Then, my friend, there existed an organized religion which rivaled the church. There were many to worship unashamed at the grand Sabbath. Many to receive all favors from Satan, their master, and to dance forever joyously in a red carpet.

Flaming quadrants of hell. Some 200 years ago, an ancestress of mine, Katerina Kohari, was tortured to death in a tapestry room for professing the old religion. Many persons have not thought it safe to sleep there since. Are you answered? Oh, come, sir. This is some kind of elaborate joke. Joke?

the bishop of tour did not find it a joke not the mark on his body i assure you as a physician not the mark on his body no not a mark on his body here dr solomon well understand me lord edward there's no compulsion in this if you do wish to sleep in that room all right if you don't take it i'm not afraid to sleep there sir well i thought perhaps you wanted to change your mind oh never

Would you like me to make a wager on that? What sort of wager? Well, if I spend the night in this famous room and come out of it alive... Yes? Will you give your consent to the marriage immediately? Tomorrow morning? Tomorrow morning? Why? Because I don't think the atmosphere of this house is good for a loner. What do you say? Will you do it? Very well, Lord Edward. I accept the terms of your wager. Don't do it, Ned. For the love of heaven, don't do it! No!

High up in the north tower of the Chateau d'Azay, under the conical slate roof, is the circular room hung with faded tapestries. These tapestries move slightly with uneasy mimic life to the clamor of the storm outside. Candles burn along the mantelpiece and beside the great four-poster bed. The flames of these candles waver too as the door opens.

this is the tapestry room monsieur. thank you madame fleur. that is the mantelpiece where the incense burned. that is the bed where monsignor le bishop died. very inviting isn't it? will there be anything else monsieur require? some sandwiches? no thanks. I had a drink with the count before I came upstairs. monsieur shaving water will be brought up in the morning.

If he requires it. Good night. That's not hot, eh? Trying to scare a fellow out of his wits just because... I hope they've built a good fire anyway. Didn't realize how cold it was. Temperature must have dropped. What's that? It's me, Ilona. May I come in? No, Ilona. Get out of here. That's not very gallant of you. I mean, I don't want you exposed to whatever it is. Ned, listen...

Are you going to bed, or are you going to sit up all night? I'm going to sit up all night, naturally. Then let me sit up with you. No. Why not? Well, it may be dangerous. Besides, I promised your uncle I'd go through with this alone. I wish you hadn't had that drink with him. Why? He couldn't have done anything to it. It was you who poured it. Yes, that's true, only... Listen. Listen. Listen.

Sounds like footsteps. Yes, but where's it coming from? Seems to be right here in the room. It seems to come from all directions. Doesn't it sound like somebody walking between the walls? Right, George, it is someone walking inside the wall. Get behind that tapestry, Lola. Quick. Hide there. Yes, sir.

Count Kohari, where did you come from? Oh, forgive me, Lord Edward, for seeming to appear out of the wall and between a tapestry. Like Mephisto appearing too fast, huh? And this red dressing gown perhaps adds to the effect, too. How'd you get here? A passage between the walls? Yes, exactly. Little devised my ancestors for a...

visiting this room you know they invented that when its occupant was so unmanly as to bolt a door door's not bolted you could have walked straight in but i couldn't have done it unobserved no maybe not have you had any other visitors lord edmund no are you quite sure of that quite sure well then since nobody saw me come here i'll just sit down by the fire

Please sit opposite me. Is this the showdown, sir? I don't understand. Well, there's got to be a showdown between us. Is that why you're here? Oh, I'm here, young man, to explain certain things to you. Will you have a cigarette? Thank you. Oh, they're perfectly all right. That is what you're afraid of. I'll have one, yes. A light? Thank you.

Well, when I was discussing the witch cult a while ago, you didn't appear to think I meant what I said. Do you want a perfectly frank answer to that? Yes. I think you're mad enough to mean anything. What you say in a sense is quite true. Seeing an old and inbred family like ours, the mind can crack in the fantasies of witchcraft, become as real, well, more real than a living world.

let me give you an example go on the saucer on the table beside you is mint porcelain it was once owned by katharina kohari a martyr of the old religion

Yet you are using it as an ashtray. Oh, I beg your wish, ladies, pardon. I'll blow off the ash. Well, that's a very dangerous remark, sir. Don't you understand that the worship of evil can be strong and compelling as the worship of good? That the devil can have his sayings too? That to a sick brain which knows but can't help itself, you have profaned this room, merely bantering it. And therefore, you deserve to die.

Like the Bishop of Tours? Exactly. You're not going to tell me the devil killed him? The devil's agent may be flesh and blood. Then it was murder. Oh, of course it was murder. Murder so cunningly contrived that no one ever saw through it. Go on. I asked you before to use your wits on this problem. Well, look, incense was burned in this room. You know why?

Suppose you tell me. Well, obviously, I think to conceal something else, which would be too easily noticed. To conceal what? For instance, the smell of chloroform. Chloroform? Yes. But you are not very well understood by laymen. Dr. Solomon, by the way, was using chloroform this afternoon to dispose of some dogs. So I've heard. Well, Dr. Solomon is old and very forgetful. You mean...

chloroform could be stolen. Oh, yes, it could be easily. Now, suppose, just suppose I take a pad saturated with chloroform. I place it over the mouth and nostrils of a man already sleeping with drugs so that he gets no air. Wait a minute. That won't do. Why not? Chloroform burns and blisters when it touches the skin. You'll leave marks. Oh, not at all, my friend. Not at all. If I first covered the mouth and nostrils...

With some substance like... - Wait a minute! - Yes. Now you're waking up. - I... - Now observe what follows. In a few seconds, unconsciousness. In two minutes or three minutes, death.

Sudden death, yes. Oh, but chloroform, you see. It evaporates very quickly. There's no trace in the stomach since nothing has been swallowed. Well, delay your post-mortem for 24 hours. Very easy matter in these country districts. And no trace remains in the blood. Murder without a mark, Lord Edward. Murder without a mark. You can't do it, Count Gohani.

There's one thing you're forgetting. What is that? I'm not sleeping and I'm not drunk. Oh, yes, you are. How? When? In the cigarette? No, in a drink you had with me. What was it? Morphine. And you've had enough to put three men to sleep. See, that's it.

Well, try to get up. I'll do it. I'll do it. You see? You've knocked over the fire irons. You'd have been in the fire yourself if I hadn't caught you. Take your hands off me. Just as you please. If I could reach that bell pole. Well, but you can't. Well, better sit down again. You murdering lunatic. So that's how you killed the Bishop of Tours. And that's how you're going to kill me. Who, I? You don't think I killed the Bishop of Tours. Didn't you? You fool.

I'm not trying to kill you. I'm trying to save you. Dr. Solomon. Yes, monsieur. Well, come out, come out, come in the room. Come out and be my witness. Yes, monsieur. I shall always guard the family, honor, even when I guess how men die. This young man evidently thinks I've been talking about myself. Am I in a popular parlance, insane? Oh, monsieur.

Heaven forbid. I have never known a saner man. Have you any notion, Lord Edward, why I brought you to this house? You would never have believed me if I had merely told you. So I had to bring you here to show you. Show me what? What? Look at it, Capucines. Come out of there. Behind him. Come out of there. Hey, come out. Ilona. Yes. Yes, Ilona.

Why do you think I've kept Ilona so well guarded from the world? Why, at a fancy dress ball, for instance, did I object to the costume of a medieval witch? Whose dogs were poisoned so that chloroform should be brought? Who poured the drink, drunk with morphine? In the devil's name, what are you trying to tell me? It was Ilona. She's been helplessly, hopelessly insane for more than ten years.

And so closes The Devil's Saint, starring Peter Lorre. Tonight's tale of... Suspense. This is your narrator, the man in black.

who conveys to you Columbia's invitation to spend this half hour in suspense with us again next Tuesday. William Spear, the producer, John Dietz, the director, Bernard Herrmann, the composer-conductor, and John Dixon Carr, the author, are collaborators on... Suspense. Suspense.

This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

Are you one of the frightened? Arthur Wingate was a fairly well-to-do lawyer in the small town of Morrisville. It's a quiet, orderly town. Nothing out of the way ever happens there. Or so he would have thought for thirty years. But then one day, all of it changed. And his whole life lay before him. Just like the day he saw those men digging that fresh grave just inside the cemetery gate on his way home from work.

You resemble Arthur Wynkett, friend. So listen closely, and you may avoid the terrible thing that happened to him. It had been a hot, dusty day in Morrisville. Possibly it was the hot sun.

But a sudden headache came over Arthur Wingard. His hands were moist, his brow feverish. He decided to go home to his own farmland just over the hill beyond the town. It wasn't too long a walk, and maybe the fresh air would do him some good. So Arthur Wingard left his office and walked slowly down Main Street. It was odd, but he met no one on the way.

Soon he was drawing abreast of the long, low-lying wall that bordered Morrisville's only cemetery. The rhythmic sound of pickaxes attacking the soft sod came to him from beyond the wall. Someone had died. Life and death went on in Morrisville, same as any other time.

But opposite the front gate, where the sounds of digging were loudest, Arthur Wingate suddenly halted in confusion. No one had died recently, to his knowledge, except, of course, the Starkey boy and his burial had been a month ago. Puzzled, Arthur Wingate went into the cemetery. And just inside the wall, two men were grimly spading the earth into heaping, ugly mounds.

The heads and shoulders of the men were barely visible. Wingate approached them and asked them what they were doing. The faces of the two men were strange to him, but they both seemed to consider his question even stranger. Somebody died, the taller of the two sneered, and they both jeered at Arthur Wingate, whose headache was suddenly worse.

Feverishly, he stumbled from the cemetery and finally reached home. The day had been too much for him. He fell into a long, exhausted sleep, but his mind wouldn't let him rest. The scene at the cemetery stayed with him. Who could have died? Arthur Wingate felt the cold wind of something fan his spine. He had a curious sensation of unreality that he could not shake off.

He couldn't wait a second longer. He left his home near midnight and ran to the cemetery. It looked eerie, forlorn, and cold in the moonlight. The metal gates squealed as he stepped inside. He splashed light in the direction of where he remembered to be. It was still there, but there was something else too. A pine box was placed to one side of the graveyard. A slid, angled backwood showed the contents.

Arthur Wingate drew nearer and slowly, fearfully aimed his flashlight at the interior of the oblong box. The fact that it was empty was far more frightening than if it had been occupied. There was a tag on the box, dangling from a metal hinge. The wind in the graveyard howled and tore at the thing as Arthur Wingate held it up to the light, scrawled across the tag in a spidery hand with the words...

Arthur Wingate, 1907, 1957. He saw no more. A hideous scream ripped from his throat as he pitched forward into the empty box, the lids slamming down behind him, shutting him in. Of course, when they found him there the next morning, he was dead. Heart attack. Nothing had been written on the tag except a series of numbers indicating the grave's dimensions.

And the box had been for the Starkey boy because his grave was being moved at his mother's request. But Arthur Wingate had met his death. By premonition? By fate? By manifest destiny? Yes, perhaps. It's an interesting tale, isn't it? Quiet, unusual. But I hear them all the time. In my business, you understand. Huh? Oh, I'm an undertaker. Can I interest you in a plot of grounds?

At our summer rates?

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

Tales of Tomorrow. Tales beyond human imagination. Until they happen. Tales of Tomorrow, story number 13. The Old Die Rich.

by H.L. Gold. This is your host, Omentor, saying hello. Like to take a little trip to another century? Just name your choice. You can go back through the years as far as you like or forward into the future and visit civilizations as yet unknown.

Fantastic? Not if you use the proper vehicle, which, in this case, is a time machine. What's that? Where do you find a time machine? Well, I found one in a remarkable story from Galaxy magazine. A story called The Old Die Rich. THE OLD DIE RICH

Hello? Oh, Mark. Oh, yeah. Hello, Lou. What's up? I'm calling from Central Hospital. We got another of those cases here. Old man, dead of malnutrition with thousands of dollars in the bank? No, this old guy had 17,000 in the lining of his coat, and he's still alive. Alive? Lou, will he stay that way? It's hard to say. He was three-quarters dead from hunger when the cops picked him up. The doctors are shooting him full of heart stimulants and feeding him intravenously.

How soon can you get here? Right away. Wait for me. This was it. The break I'd been waiting for ever since I'd first become curious about all those old people who died of starvation with plenty of money in the bank. This was the first one who turned up alive. If I could talk to him, find out why he'd done it, but I couldn't. When I reached the hospital...

Too late, Mark. Oh. By five minutes. No, that's luck for you. I wait months for a chance like this, and when it comes, I'm stuck in a taxi cab. I feel like giving up the whole thing. Why don't you? What? Why make a big mystery about something that's perfectly natural? There's nothing natural about people starving themselves to death when they have plenty of money. I told you it happens every day. Now, here's the death certificate on this one.

malnutrition induced by senile psychosis. Ah, that's too pat. Pat or not pat, that's the explanation. This guy was like the rest of them in your file. He starved himself because he was crazy. Because he was less afraid of death than he was of digging into his savings. I don't believe it. This one, did he have any means of identification on him? No. You see, he fits into the pattern. He was old, he had no means of identification.

If he had had a bank book, I bet it would be just like the others. You mean that business about the ink? You've never been able to explain that. Well, I can now. How? The entries in those bank books date back as much as 50 years, but chemical analysis shows that the ink is only a few months old. The ink only seems to be a few months old. Now, don't you see those entries would look fresh if the bank books were kept in the right kind of container. What sort of a container would that be? Well, I guess it would have to be...

Well, practically airtight, so the ink wouldn't oxidize. All right, now ask yourself this. Would every one of those starvation cases have kept his bank book in an airtight container? Does that sound logical? I admit it's a pretty big coincidence. But how else can you explain it? I don't have any answers... yet.

Lou, did this old guy say anything before he died? He started mumbling about Mrs. Roberts like he was afraid of her. Miss Roberts? Who is she? I tried to get him to tell me, but she was too far gone. Anything else? That's all.

Why don't you give it up, Mark? Give up now when for the first time I've got something solid to go on? What have you got? The name Roberts. During the next week, I made a list of all the Robertses in the phone book. Every morning, I checked the want ads. And finally, I found what I was looking for.

The ad read, Wanted man over 50 years of age. Good income, no experience necessary. Apply May Roberts, 1205 Eldridge Avenue. The house was an old five-story brownstone in the wealthier part of town. I showed up the next morning made up as an old man, my face lined with collodion wrinkles, wearing an old suit and shabby shoes. May Roberts had red hair...

pale skin, and blue eyes as cold as ice. Three words describe her. Beautiful, but hard. Her voice as she asked for my name, address, and social security number and references was completely impersonal. After writing it all down... Thank you, Mr. Weldon. We'll get in touch with you if we need you. Good day. Good day.

He practically pushed me out of the house. Whatever that job was, I didn't get it. But why? What had I done wrong? Then it came to me in a flash. Hadn't all the starvation cases been men without social security numbers or references? Yeah, I'd pulled a boner.

That night I waited until all the lights in the brownstone house went out. And I climbed up the fire escape, trying the windows until I found one that was unlocked. I opened it, jumped inside, and came face to face with May Roberts.

She had a gun in her hand. Mr. Weldon, isn't it? I thought I told you to wait until we'd get in touch with you. Please don't turn me over to the police, Miss Roberts. I never tried to rob a house before, but I'm unkind. You aren't an old man, and you didn't come here to rob me. What else would I be doing here? I know this much about you. You're 32 years old, and you've been trying to find out why senile psychotics starve themselves to death. How did you know that?

You seemed a bit too curious this morning, so I conducted an investigation of my own. What have you found out about me? Nothing. Let me remind you, you're guilty of housebreaking. I could shoot you and claim I did it in self-defense, so please be completely frank with me. All right. I know you're the daughter of the late Dr. Anthony Roberts, the physicist, and that you're a pretty good physicist in your own right. And that's all I know.

Uh, you could let me go and I wouldn't have a thing on you. No, I don't think you would. On the other hand, you might convince the police to get a search warrant. That would be inconvenient. Not if you've nothing to hide. You want to find out my connection with the senile psychotics? Very well, I'll show you. Go through that door and turn to the right. Mm-hmm. Where now? Through that open door to your left. Mm-hmm.

Oh, your laboratory, eh? You might call it that. What's that queer-looking wire mesh cage and those electric motors? That's what I'm going to show you. But first, I want you to undress. You mean take my clothes off? That's right. Look, I'm not in the habit of undressing in front of... Please, Mr. Weldon, I'm a scientist. Also, I have the gun. Oh.

She pulled a bundle of clothes from the shelves on the wall. They were cut in the style of 20 years ago. When I put them on, she took a bundle of envelopes from a work desk. Then she switched down the electric motors. You've been an unexpected nuisance, Weldon. But now that you're here, we might as well both benefit by it.

The money those old men had in the bank, you'd like to know where it came from, wouldn't you? Sure. And I suppose you'd like to be rich yourself. Is that an offer? It's a command.

Take these envelopes and get into that cage. Hey, wait a minute. What's this all about? When the time comes, I want you to use the envelopes in the order they're arranged. Are you going to do the same thing to me that you did to those old men? I'm going to make you rich, Mr. Weldon. Ha! Rich and dead. No, thanks. You won't die unless you refuse to follow instructions. No!

It was either the gun or the cage, so I chose the cage. He went to a big electrical switch and pushed it as far as it would go. The cage began to vibrate like a tuning fork. I was being shaken like a tree in a storm. The End

The next thing I remember is finding myself standing near a newsstand. Then, several things hit me. It was day instead of night. Spring instead of autumn. The cars on the street had square bodies. I turned to the newsstand, picked up a paper, and looked at the date on the front page. May 15th, 1931. It hit me like a punch in the solar plexus.

I'd been taken for a ride in a time machine, carried back 22 years. The envelopes. I hauled them out of my pocket. The first one contained $150. Somehow, perhaps by hypnosis, I heard May Roberts' voice. Deposit this money at the First National Bank under your name. I had no account at the bank, but they welcomed me with open arms. The vice president of the bank made out my bank book personally. Oh!

Outside on the street again, I opened the second envelope. It contained ten crisp $100 bills. Take this and buy as many shares of stock in General Motors as you can. Buy it in the name of Dr. Anthony Roberts. My $1,000 bought a tremendous wad of stock certificates. Stock that's worth many times as much in today's market. Then the third envelope.

$500 in small bills. Bet this on the championship heavyweight fight between Max Schmeling and Jack Sharkey.

Bet on Sharky to win. I put down every dollar of it and cleaned up. After that, the fever of what I was doing got into my blood. I made dozens of bets, opened dozens of accounts at banks, bought dozens of blue-chip stocks, and all of them sure things because May Roberts knew in advance which stocks would go up and which horse or fighter would win.

I cleaned up 15,000 for myself and a hundred times that much for May Roberts when I ran out of envelopes. Suddenly, I blacked out on the street. When I came to my senses again, I was in the room with the motors, inside the wire mesh cage.

You can come out now. Thanks. Well, how'd you like your trip into the past? Very interesting and profitable. But one thing puzzled me. I am kind of hungry, but a long way from being starved. What made you think you'd be starved? The others always were. Mark, you don't mind my using first names now that we know each other, do you? Go right ahead. Good.

Look, I'm not infallible, Mark. Sometimes I make mistakes. Occasionally, I hire men too old to stand the strains of time travel. I try not to let that happen, but they need money so badly that they lie about their age and health.

Can you blame me for that? Not if it's the truth. Don't you believe me, Mark? I think you're a killer. A very brilliant one. To invent a time machine, you'd have to be a genius. You think I invented the time machine to win a few hundred thousand dollars at gambling? You underestimate me, Mark. The purpose of the time machine is to help all mankind. And just how do you help mankind with it? Well, you've already seen how simple it is to make money by sending men back into the past.

That's the smallest part of my work. There were great upheavals in the past, Mark. Wars and revolutions. Vandalism and great fires. I sent men back to save things that would have been destroyed. Beautiful things. Things that would have been lost to the world forever if I hadn't interfered. There's no point in talking about the treasures of the past... when the treasures of the future are so much more important. You mean to say you're familiar with the future...

I knew something about it. Enough to solve most of the problems of the world. If I could find the right man to help me. What do you mean? Well, up until now, I've concentrated the time machine on the past. Only once I sent a man into the future. What happened to him? He was too old to survive the strain of the transitions.

But you said you'd found out something that could benefit all mankind. I did. That man lived long enough to describe a small metal box, small enough for one man to carry, but producing enough power to run the city's industries and light its homes and streets. Atomic energy? I don't know. But, Mark, can you imagine what the world would be like today if those boxes were in every city? Cheap power. It would revolutionize the world, all right.

But where do you find those boxes? In the civilization of the year 2023. What's your idea, May? Do you want me to go into the future and get that box so it can be copied and distributed? You can't do that. Why not? It's physically impossible to bring anything from the future that doesn't exist right now.

So you can't bring back the box. Only the technical information to build one. Technical information? But I'm not a scientist. You don't have to be a scientist to find the data and copy it down in notebooks. Maybe so. But isn't the future uncharted territory? I'm no hero. I want to come back alive. Don't you think I want you to come back? This could be a sweet way to get rid of me. I'm rather fond of you, Mark. I've waited a long time for a man like you to come along.

I'd hate to lose you now. May, does that mean what it sounds like? Listen to me. We'll have money, power, love. All the things two people could ever wish for. If I come back. Mark, are you afraid of me? Yeah, a little. Don't be silly. Come here, Mark. Come here.

She was fire and ice. She was all the things I wanted in a woman. The few that I didn't want. Part of me was repelled, the other part was fascinated. A couple of hours later, we went back to the laboratory, and I entered the wire mesh cage. Don't be afraid, darling. I'll be here waiting for you. May, how long are you going to keep me in the year 2023? One month. Goodbye, darling.

Once again, the motors were screaming, the cage vibrating faster and faster until the mesh blurred, the earth spun, and then suddenly I was catapulted into a world I never knew. The world of 2023. A minute later, I was back on the street. There was a sign at the intersection that read, to the shopping center.

I followed the arrow to the center of the city, a large square with a park in the middle and shops on all four sides. I walked along it until I found an electrical appliance store. What could I say? I didn't even know the name of the box I was looking for. And even if I had known it, I had no money to buy it with, assuming it was for sale. I found the box purely by accident.

It was sitting on a counter made of a tinted metal, no bigger than a suitcase with a lip vent on top and a dial alongside. I didn't know I had found it, actually, until I twisted the dial. Suddenly, every light in the store glared and a salesman came rushing over.

Please be careful, sir. We don't want to burn out every light and motor in the place, do we? I'm sorry. I just wanted to see if it worked okay. Oh, but there's never any question about that. Dynapacks always work. The principle is simple. There are no moving parts to wear out, so they're asked indefinitely. Hey!

But you must know that. Everyone learns about the Dynapack in primary education. Oh, yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Are you thinking of getting one, sir? Me? No, no, no. The old one is good enough. I'm curious to see if the new models are much different from the old ones. New models? There hasn't been a new model since the year 2008. Can you think of any reason why there should be? Why, no, no. Guess not, but...

Well, you never can tell. You can with data packs. Now, if you'd like to make an application for one, I'd be glad to take your name and address. No, thanks. I only need a moment, sir. I don't have the time. I've got an appointment. Sorry to trouble you. It's no trouble at all, sir. I've just got to get out of here. I got out of there fast. Stucking around several corners, I went into the park and sat down on the bench.

I was like an ancient Egyptian set down in the middle of Central Park with instructions to steal money out of the Metropolitan Museum. Hours passed as I tried to figure it out.

There's only one thing to do. I had to take a chance and ask someone for help. Just then a man sat down on the bench beside me. He was middle-aged and looked friendly. Mind if I sit down here? Not at all. Look, mister, I'm a stranger in town and I haven't eaten all day. Could you help me get a meal somewhere? Certainly, I'd be glad to help you, Mr. Weldon. Oh, it's real nice of you to...

What did you call me? You are Mark Weldon, aren't you? Mark Weldon from the 20th century. You know who I am? Of course. All the city officials know about you, Mr. Weldon. We've been expecting you. Expecting me? But how? How did you know?

You read all about her in the private papers of May Roberts. So you know about her, too. Oh, yeah. You see, Miss Roberts' private papers were discovered in her vault several weeks ago. That's how we knew exactly when you would come and where to find you. And you know why I'm here?

Certainly. And to obtain information that would enable Mr. Roberts to build a dine-a-pack. By the way, my name's Archibald Carr. I'm mayor of the city. All right, you've gotten, Mr. Carr. You can do whatever you want with me.

But first, get me something to eat. I'm starving. Mayor Carr took me to his home, a magnificent apartment in one of those tall, glass buildings. We had dinner together, served by a pretty maid who kept staring at me as though I were a freak. Mayor Carr ate roast beef and green vegetables topped off with savory coffee and a rich dessert. I ate canned meat.

canned vegetables and dehydrated potatoes. For dessert, I had dried fruits and powdered milk. I hope that food doesn't taste too unpleasant, Mr. Weldon. Unfortunately, we can't give you any of the foods we eat ourselves. Why not? Seems to be more than enough to go around. If you ate our food, you would die when you return to the 20th century, like those pathetic old men you've been investigating.

That canned meat, powdered milk, and the rest of it may not taste very appetizing, but at least it won't do any harm. You see, all of it was prepared in your time. I don't get it. Mr. Weldon, didn't May Roberts explain that nothing can exist before it exists itself?

Isn't that why you were able to obtain the technical data on the Dynapack instead of the Dynapack itself? That's right. If you returned to the 20th century with the Dynapack, it would revert to a lump of metals because that's all it was in your time.

In the same way you couldn't take our foods back because our foods were non-existent in the 20th century. And if I tried to, I'd die of malnutrition like the others? Exactly. Did May Roberts know that? Of course. I don't believe it. She said she would...

She expected you to bring back the technical information and then die like the others. Fortunately for you, we were able to read her papers in advance. But why should she do that?

She doesn't want the Dynapack for herself. Isn't she after it because it will bring cheap power to the 20th century? No, Mr. Weldon. She intends to use the Dynapack to enslave your century. To revenge herself on a society that rejected and humiliated her father, the scientist Dr. Roberts.

She wants the Dynabag to create technological unemployment and wars and revolutions without end. That's not true. It can't be. It just can't be. You don't have to take my word, Mr. Weldon. I can prove everything I've said.

How can you prove it? By letting you read the private papers of Mayor Roberts for yourself. They are stored in the city archives a short distance from here. I'll take you there as soon as you're ready. Hello, Mr. Weldon. Do you believe me now? It's fantastic. Gruesome. She's a cold-blooded murderer. According to these papers, she sent those old men into the future...

knowing they'd die when they returned. And she's planned the same thing for me. Yes. And she'll succeed unless you cooperate with us. What do you want me to do? Then you will trust us and work with us. After reading this, to the limit. To the limit.

How can I describe the next month? I was the guest of Mayor Carr with the freedom to travel the entire country. Those people of the future had learned all the secrets of the physical universe. But more important, they'd learned how to live with each other and each with himself.

I'd have given anything to spend the rest of my life with him, but it couldn't be. May Roberts controlled me through the time machine. Every day, every passing hour brought me closer to the time of departure. I was in my room, asleep, when the last moment came. Mark, you've come back. Yes, I'm back, May.

What's the matter? Why are you staring at me? I thought you'd be... You thought I'd be thin as a ghost, a walking cadaver, just strong enough to tumble out of here and collapse on the street. What an idea. Darling, please don't start distrusting me again. Did you bring back the information on the power box? No. The Dynapack is better off where it is.

Those people showed me that inventions that appear before the world is ready for them can cause more harm than good. You fool. So you double-crossed me. I don't know how you escaped starvation, but you won't escape this time. Hold it. Keep your hand away from your pocket. Let go of me, Mark. Let go. As soon as I see what's in that pocket...

Yeah, I thought so. A gun. Give that to me. To kill me with? Or maybe your plan was to force me back into the cage and send me to a century I could never come back from. Well, it's your turn this time. What are you talking about? Get into that cage. My friends in the next century have plans for you. But it's murder. As Lou Paik would say, there's no murder without a corpse. How many deaths were you responsible for? The law couldn't convict you, but I can. Get inside. Mark, you're making a mistake. You could have so much money, power...

I'd have you all right long enough to get my throat slick I Waited until she was gone And I phoned blue face and when he got to the house, I told him the entire story He listened with an expression of disbelief until I was finished. I

So you sent the dame into the year 2023, huh? That's right, Lou. I've heard some crazy yarns in the years I've been on the force, but never one to beat this. Have you been hitting the bottle? It's true every word of it. Look, see for yourself. There's the time machine. The time machine, huh? All right, let's have a peek under that tin hood. Wait, he's exploding. I'll switch off the current.

Are you all right, Lou? Did you get hurt? I'm okay. I jumped away in time. The machine's ruined, though. I might have known. She had it rigged to short and explode if it was tampered with. No one will ever be able to figure out how it worked from that mess. If it ever did work. Where's Miss Roberts, Mark? In the next century. Don't give me that. Could you kill her? No, Lou, I just told you. I heard that before. And I'm sorry, Mark, but I have to take you down to headquarters.

You better have a good story when you meet the boys from Homicide. I told the detectives the same as I told Lou Pape. I was grilled for days. They dug up the cellar of the house on Eldridge Avenue, searching for May Roberts' body. Naturally, they didn't find it. Eventually, they released me and listed May Roberts with the Missing Persons Bureau. I often think of May Roberts...

of Mayor Carr and all those other people in the future. And sometimes it all seems like a dream. When that happens, I take out my bank book and look at the $15,000 I have on deposit. A gift from May Roberts. Or should I say, a gift from the past. ♪♪

That's it. The Old Die Rich by H.L. Gold. Thanks to wonderful Galaxy magazine now on the stands. This is your host, Omentor. And until next week, I leave you with this thought. Look out for beautiful redheads. One of them might just possibly own a little time machine. Tales of Tomorrow.

Heard in tonight's play were John Raby, Raleigh Bester, Maurice Tarplin, and your host, O-Mentor, Raymond Edward Johnson. Special effects, Ed Blaney and Bob Prescott. Engineer, Joe Durante. Music was composed and conducted by Bobby Christian. Script adaptation by Michael Sklar.

This has been Tales of Tomorrow. Exciting science fiction stories of the future.

thrilling tension tales of the days to come. Tune in again next week at this same time and over these same stations for another thrilling story. This is the United States Armed Forces Radio Service.

♪♪

The End

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

And then I looked up at the old mansion all made with inlaid marble and stately pillars. The last lovely thing left on the street to tell you what we once were. And while we were about tearing it down, I thought I heard somebody scream. A woman who was a lady and wouldn't make a sound over an ordinary agony. Yes, I thought I heard somebody scream. ♪♪

Theater 5 presents The Scream. The Scream

Hey, what's holding you guys up over there? Get that scaffolding in place. We start the wrecking ball in five minutes, so watch it. And you, what are you just standing around for? Me? I don't see anybody behind you. You, McDougal? It's Dunahee, Mr. Madison. Mickey Dunahee. Okay, Ash. That's it.

Says here you're on the crane. They, uh, they got me on the list for the crane? Yeah, my man's out. We're behind schedule. So get up in that cab seat and wait for my signal. Mr. Mallison, I, uh... You can call me Mal. Now, what's the problem? Mr. Mallison, it's, uh...

It's a feeling I've got that I shouldn't be the one to operate the crane on this job. Why not? Says here you're qualified. That's right, I am, sir, but... Okay, the east wall's got to come down today. You were hired to operate the big ball. So what's with this feeling you're wasting my time with? You sick? No, I... You look pretty healthy to me. It's not that, sir. It's... I didn't know when I signed on the job it would be a house like this. A lovely old house with such an air about it.

After I reported in this morning, I started looking at it, and I said to myself, if I'm the one who has to be breaking those fine, graceful walls into bits, I said to myself, I can't. It would be like doing in a beautiful woman some way. My, my, aren't we sensitive, though? A bleeding Irish poet we've got on the payroll. Get lost. Oh, I'm fired? You were hired to run that crane. There's no time to get a replacement, so get Joe over there and I'll man it with you. And when I say swing it, swing it.

Yes, sir. And you can stop looking like that and get on that train. Yes, sir. I'm going up. Would you rather I took it for you, Mickey? Whip wouldn't like it. No, it's okay, Joe. Okay, all right. What was that? What was what? Didn't you hear it? Somebody screamed. Huh? No, I didn't hear nothing. Hey, up there. What are you waiting for? Keep it swinging. Yes, sir.

You've got to have heard it that time. It came from up in the wall somewhere. You did hear it, didn't you? Say, you got the shakes, kid. Here, here, wait a minute. I always carry a half a pint. No, no, no, thanks. Now, come on, come on. Hear the dog. I'm not hungover, and I don't think I'm crazy. I heard that scream twice. Uh-oh, here comes a whip. Okay, watch this. Slow down. I can report it to the union. I probably will.

Now, what's holding up the parade here? Well, he heard some kind of scream coming from up there. Twice it was I heard it. It was horrible. Coming from the house? There's nobody in that house. Well, maybe somebody better check. Well, there's a watchman on duty. He hasn't reported anybody. Now, cut the comedy and get going here. Look, I know you don't believe me, but I... If there's somebody up there, they scream again, I'll hear it because I'm staying right here with you. Now, let her rip. We're behind schedule.

Okay, hear anything that time? How did you know I heard it when the ball hit the house? Isn't that what you said? It's what happened, but I didn't say it. Well, so what? Point is, I didn't hear anything, neither did you. So get with it. Demolition plan says we level the east wall by quitting time today. ♪♪

And then I... I looked up at that mansion all made with inlaid marble and stately with pillars. The last lovely thing left on the street to tell you what we once were. Because all of the other great blocks of stone rise up like whited sepulchres with staring glass eyes and...

We don't know what we are. We don't know what we are. Oh, it's all right, kid. Now get it off your chest. Come on, let's have a drink. Oh, it's not the drink. It's hearing in my head how that scream was. I...

I thought it must be a woman in terror. A woman who's a lady and wouldn't make a sound over an ordinary agony. Well, well, if it isn't the ghost of Brendan B. and still yakking about the screaming banshee. Mr. Mallison. Well, I guess it's as good an excuse as any for getting in the bag. I wasn't thinking it was any banshee, Mr. Mallison. Oh, then maybe it was a leprechaun, Irish. I said it sounded like a lady. Johnny, give me a rye and water. All right.

Mr. Mallison, I... I waited at the mansion before I came here tonight. I... I went over close by the wall and I listened. But I haven't told anyone, I swear to you.

In the dark, I heard someone weeping. Oh, let up, will you? Joke's over. I don't play jokes. Well, somebody is, or else you're due for the head shrinker. Come to think of it, why didn't Joe hear something this morning? Well, you know, I might have, Mr. Mallison, but I'm deaf in this ear, and there was a lot of other noises, so I might have, but I can't be sure. Okay, I'll drink to that.

Stick by your pal. But you stop bugging me, Irish. I don't want to hear any more about people screaming, crying, or talking to themselves. I got other things on my mind. Is it that you don't care for your line of work, Mr. Mallison? I'll tell you what I don't go for. The do-gooders. All these bleeding hearts that go around whooping and hollering every time some old barn gets torn down saying it's a landmark or history.

Or it was their birthplace, so it's holy. But when they tore down the block where I was born and all the rats ran out, nobody wrote any letters in the newspaper. Maybe the people who didn't have any place to go didn't know who to write to. Oh, go home and sleep it off. And I want to see you on that crane at seven sharp tomorrow morning. But tonight...

Don't you think someone ought to go through the mansion and find out what caused what I heard? Why? There's a watchman on duty 24 hours a day. There wasn't any watchman when I left there tonight. No? You sure? Yes, I am. All right. Well?

All right, I'll borrow a flashlight. Go over there right now and have a look. Does that satisfy you? Do you want to come with me? No, no, I wouldn't want to bug you, Mr. Mallison. What you don't want is to lose your excuse to cry into your beer. Okay, poet, I don't need you. Anyway, not till seven tomorrow morning. Good night, sir. If they'd let us use dynamite, I wouldn't need the likes of you. Good night.

Hey, watchman, where are you? Hey, in there. Hey, inside, wake up. Wake up or I'll have your job. Let me in here. Where are you? Okay, that does it. I'll break my way in. Anybody in here? Speak up. No trespassing. House is condemned. Speak up now and I'll let you go.

Okay, have it your way, but I'm coming through room by room till I find you, so watch out. Who's that? It's late for callers, but come in. I heard something. Where are you? I heard you. If you had listened, you might have heard me before. Huh? But you never listen, do you? Who is it?

Direct your flashlight to the corner of the hall, please. No, no. The other corner. Hey! Uh-oh. All right, Sam, whatever your name is, nap time's over. Can't you hear me outside?

Hey, get up! You're fired! I rather think your watchman no longer cares whether he's fired or not. He's dead. The End

It's no good shaking him anymore. No use at all. Better to say a prayer for the soul of a weary old man who died in his sleep without knowing where his life led. Look here. I won't have any more of this.

Whoever you are, come out here so I can see you. Walk to the door of the main parlor. It's straight ahead. I'm playing no fun and games with you, lady. Show yourself or you'll be in more trouble than you think. I could not be in more trouble than I now am. Wait a minute. You're that old dame with the baby carriage, aren't you? The one that wanders around the neighborhood picking up junk? Yeah, I hear they hauled you in once for looting. Well, this time you've had it, honey. Hey.

So the watchman caught you trespassing here, and then you... Up to the door of the main parlor. Why? I want to show you something.

Look, all I have to do is call a cop, and in five minutes, I'll have a whole squad tailing you through this place. And when they find out there's a dead watchman... You'll be the one who was in here alone with his body. You were terribly upset to discover he'd been sleeping on the job, remember? And you threatened him. Well, there were no marks on his body. None I could see, anyway. Then...

Why are you suggesting I was responsible for his death? For the last time, woman, where are you? As I say, he died of natural causes in his sleep. The innocent sleep accompanied by innocent snores of night watchmen the world over. Come along. Well, come along. This way. Open the parlor door. Oh.

Look inside. Flash your light around. Brighten the corner where you are. Well? Such a graceful room, isn't it? So perfectly proportioned. We weren't trying to box people into little egg crates in the days when this was built. A man could breathe. A woman could bloom.

There was beauty to be lived with. I'm not here for the 50-cent tour. And we didn't destroy that beauty for the sake of greed. Will you cut this out? Where are you? You must excuse me. I am old, but still rather vain. It pains me to be seen as I am now. Okay, lady, I'm going out to call the cops. They won't find me here when they come.

They'll say you're crazy, Mr. Mallerson. How do you know my name? We should all be able to name our executioners. It helps to ensure a proper retribution. I don't know what you're talking about. I think you do. Listen here. If you get out of this building right now, just get out and go someplace else. We'll forget the whole thing. Forget the whole thing. Of course. You would like to forget. It would be very convenient.

But if I do not, just get out. I can have you arrested. And be done with me. I'm afraid it's not that simple. Mal, you wish the workmen would call you Mal, don't you? Then you'd be one of the boys, one of those with no responsibility for what you're doing. You could then be destructive. Destroy, destroy like a child with no guilt. Tear down the walls.

Let the great iron ball smash into the masonry and kill a beautiful thing without fear that the shadow lies on your shoulders. But you are a leader, Mel. You cannot shrug the shadow away. How do you make out knowing so much about me? I'm right, am I not? Now walk straight ahead until you come to the staircase.

Only a shell now, but curved so delicately that the young lady of the house seemed to float as she appeared at the top from her tower bedroom. And in the tower itself is a window that someone in your crew has forgotten to dismantle. What do I care? I don't want to hear about it. A window of hand-leaded glass of many colors. I will give it to you as a souvenir.

In the first place, it's not yours to give. Ah, but it is. Listen to me. You can save yourself. What do you mean, save myself? Tomorrow, when your iron ball hits the tower... the glass will shatter into a thousand bits of color... like a kaleidoscope of all the scenes that were once lived in this house... and will now be forgotten forever. If you remove the window now...

The house will not wholly die. Don't you see? You will not be entirely a murderer. Will you shut up? You might. You just might save some little piece of yourself... if you showed you cared. Why am I listening to a crazy witch? If you don't take the window... I will break it myself. Stop it! I'll be glad when this crazy place is down. Very well. From this moment...

I will bear my agony in silence. Now, what are you talking... Hey, you there? I said, are you still there? Hey, what happened to you? How am I going to get out of here? I'll turn around. You've got to get me out of here.

You can't do this. Look, look, lady. Lady, I press no charges. It's all okay. Just let me know you're real. Tell me I really heard you talking. That wasn't in my mind. Open up. You've got to open...

I've got to pull myself together, that's all. Sure. There's the light from the street. All I have to do is go back this way. The street. The blessed street.

What's the matter with you, bud? Nothing. Nothing at all. Make it rye and water. Sure. You look beat, friend. It's all right. Just give me the drink. Thanks.

Your pal's all left. Yeah? To try to put the Irish kid to bed. He ain't used to drinking, and he really tied one on tonight. Two chicken to quit his job, so he tries every trick he can think of to get me to fire him. I don't get it. Why? You heard him tonight. You got some idea that old house we're wrecking is alive.

So he doesn't want to hurt it. Do you hear anything so crazy? It's nuts, sir. Absolutely nuts. Yeah. It sure sounds like it, all right. Oh!

Well, kid, how you feeling this morning? Oh, fine, fine. Now, where's the whip? I want to hear how he made out last night. That's what I want to do. Hey, you're still a little drunk, ain't you? Maybe so, maybe not. Maybe not enough. Got your half pint on you? Yeah, here. But don't let anybody see you. Listen, I'm not going to let anybody see you.

I heard on the radio they found a body here, dead. The watchman, they said. You don't say. Now, that's very interesting. All right, you guys, coffee break's over. Harris, don't you want to know what I found here last night? The watchman, dead? Correct.

And that's all I found, and I don't want to hear any more poetry from you about how you hate to destroy beautiful buildings because you're doing it and you're taking pay for it, and so shut up. Yes, Mr. Mallison. You're going to man the boom by yourself today. I need you somewhere else. We're going to make up for lost time. So get going. Yes, Mr. Mallison.

Hey. Hey, boss. Yeah, Joe? There's something wrong up there. Look. In the tower. Where? That window. I thought I saw it open. Look. That's the last window. She's breaking it. She's breaking it? That means she was real last night. Wait. Wait up there. Don't break any more of it. Wait. I've come to see you. What's he nuts all of a sudden?

Oh, hey, Mickey. Mickey, stop the boom. Hold it. Mickey, can't you hear me? What's the matter with you? I'm fine, Joe. Better make up for lost time. Mickey, cut the motor. Don't swing the ball yet. I'm okay now, Joe. Somebody's got to do the job. Might as well be me. Can't you hear me? Cut the motor. Mal's up in the tower. Watch how I can aim her. Joe, right at the pretty stained glass window. Now, swing. Ah!

Hey, did you hear that, Joe? Don't anybody tell me I didn't hear a scream that time! Hey!

Theater 5 has presented The Scream, written by Virginia Radcliffe and directed by Warren Somerville. In the cast, Roger DeKoven, Peter Fernandez, Harry Belliver, Albert Ottenheimer, and Abby Lewis.

Audio engineer, Neil Pultz. Sound technician, Ed Blaney. Script editor, Jack C. Wilson. Original music by Alexander Vlastatsenko. Orchestra under the direction of Glenn Ossor. Executive producer for Theater 5, Edward A. Byron.

We invite your comments. Write to Theater 5, New York 23, New York. This is Fred Foy speaking. ♪♪

This has been an ABC Radio Network production.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

This holiday season, UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 are proud to support the Wash for Kids Children's National Radiothon. Your donations help make a difference for local kids in need, providing life-saving care and hope. Together, we can give the gift of health this holiday season. UA Local 5 Plumbers and Steamfitters Local 602 wish you and your family a joyful, safe, and happy holiday season. Happy holidays from our families to yours, and thank you for supporting Children's National Hospital.

Time to tell tales of the unaccountable, of apparitions by night, and phantoms in shadow. Time to tell strange stories of fantasy and the supernatural. Theater 1030 presents The Thing in the Hall, a tale of the supernatural by E.F. Benson, in radio version by Alan King, and starring Chris Wiggins as Dr. Ashton and Henry Comer as Dr. Fielder.

I, Francis Ashton, am quite certain as a brain specialist that I am completely sane and that these things happen not merely in my imagination, but in the external world. If I had to give evidence again about Louis Fielder, I should be compelled to take a different line. Please put that down at the end of your account or at the beginning if it arranges itself better so.

Now, Mr. Sayers, what is it exactly you want to do? I want to read to you, Inspector, the complete statement which I took down from Dr. Ashton's dictation. Well, can't you just tell me briefly what it says? I'm afraid not. I know at a moment like this you don't want to waste time, Inspector, but if you'll give me half an hour, I think I can give you a full explanation of what has happened. And it's no good handing you the statement to take away because my handwriting is atrocious. Very well then, Mr. Sayers, go ahead.

Oh, I would like a little information first. You live in this street too, do you? Yes, about six houses down from here. Friend of Dr. Ashton? Yes, and Dr. Fielder lived on the same street. He was a friend of Dr. Ashton too. Ah, yes, I was at the inquest just last week. Suicide. Yes, that was the verdict. Dr. Ashton gave evidence at the inquest.

Had he and Dr. Fielder been friends long? Oh, they studied medicine together. Dr. Ashton specialized in diseases of the brain. You might say that Dr. Fielder specialized in everything. He was intensely interested in every branch of medicine. When Dr. Ashton came back to London after five years of study in Paris, he and Dr. Fielder resumed their close friendship. After I returned from Paris, where I had studied under Charcot, I set up practice at home.

The general doctrine of hypnotism, suggestion and cure by such means, had been accepted even in London by this time. And owing to a few papers I had written on the subject, together with my foreign diplomas, I found that I was a busy man, almost as soon as I had arrived in town. Louis Fielder insisted that I take the vacant house next to his, in what he called Chloroform Square.

Oh, Louis, I don't know how I did without you for five years. You positively feed my brain. What about all those learned men in Paris? Charcot, for instance. Ah, they crammed it full of knowledge, but you feed it with ideas so that it can go on growing. You know, I have a theory about that. Tell me. I believe that people who are Eru...

are ill because their brain is starving. That's interesting. Go on. Because their brain is starving, their body rebels. And becomes diseased. I believe so. They get lumbago or cancer or anything else. I believe that all bodily disease springs from the brain. Now, if the brain is fed and rested and exercised properly, the body will remain healthy and immune from all disease. And if the brain is affected...

medicines are useless. Absolutely. You might as well pour them down the sink. Unless your patient believes in them. That is an important limitation. Ah, here we have the gesture again. Now tell me, could you cure a patient by feeding him water and hypnotizing him into believing it was an unfailing cure? Theoretically, I think it might be quite possible. Yes.

It's all right, old man. Don't jump. It startled me. You really ought to muffle your knocker. At least during meals. There isn't a knocker. There isn't? You were startled a week ago and said the same thing, remember? So I took the knocker off. Then what? You did hear a knock, didn't you? Well, didn't you? Oh, certainly. But it wasn't a caller. It was the thing. Oh!

On that absurd remark, I rose to my feet and went to the door. There was no one there. No one even nearby in the street. I shut the door and came back to the table.

There was no word there. I know. I told you. I said it was the thing. What are you talking about? Well, I don't know what the thing is. That's what makes it so interesting. Oh, come now, Louie. You're not suggesting it's a spirit knocking? I say I don't know what it is. But we have to find an explanation. Now, you tell me why it can't be a spirit. Oh, the whole idea of the influence of spirits on our lives has exploded, Louie, and...

It's so easy for a hypnotist to understand how brain can act on brain. That's how he affects his cures. Surely anyone can understand that a strong mind can direct a weak one, just as a strong body can overcome a weak one. And the only mental influence you will admit is from a brain in a living human body. Well, of course. Tommy, have you ever tried table tapping? No, and I've never tried violet leaves as a cure for cancer. Will you take part in...

An experiment. Well, if you like. You see, you don't understand what made that knock you heard. I want to see if I can bring you near to an explanation.

By table tapping. Help me clear the table and you'll see. You have a servant here, haven't you? Couldn't he have hammered at something? I've heard the knock when he's been out. Tell me, does your spirit perform in the prescribed fashion? One knock for yes and two for no? I won't even agree that it's trying to speak to me. But you'll see now.

There. Everything's off. Sit down there, opposite me. Oh, all right. Now, first of all, try the weight of the table. See if you can push it about. I can just move it. It's very heavy. Solid mahogany. It would take the two of us to lift. Now, put your hands on the top of it and see what you can do. Yeah. Well, nothing, obviously.

Now, of course, what we're going to do won't prove anything. You won't mean to push and neither will I, but we shall push and without meaning to... Well, let's both put our fingers only on the top of the table and push for all we're worth from right to left. All right. There. You see? It doesn't move. What was that? Same as before. Perfect.

Oh, rot, I don't believe it. All right, but I tell you, I've been studying rank spiritualism on and off for five years. And I haven't told you before because I wanted to lay before you certain phenomena which I can't explain, but which now seem to me to be at my command.

You shall see and hear, and then decide if you will help me. And in order to let me see better, you're proposing to put out the lights? Yes, and you will see why. I am here as a skeptic. Now, that's as dark as I can make the room. The glow from the fire in the grave won't matter. Put your hand on the table now, quite lightly. And how shall I say it?

Expected. Still protesting in spirit, I expected. I could hear Louis breathing rather quickened, and it seemed to me odd that anybody could sit in the dark at a large mahogany table. Expected. Through my fingertips, laid lightly on the table, there began to come a faint vibration.

Like nothing so much as the vibration through the handle of a kettle when water is beginning to boil inside it. And gradually, it got more pronounced and violent, till it was like the throbbing of a motor car. It seemed to give off a low, humming note. Then, quite suddenly, the table seemed to slip from under my fingers and begin very slowly to move. Stand up, Frank.

Keep your hands on the table and move with it. It seems to be revolving. Yes. Keep circling with it. Are you there? Are you there? The table's not moving. I know. Louis, what's that light? I see it moving across the table. Like a firefly. There's another and another. It's all stopped. Yes. The lights, the sound, everything.

What do you think of it all, Frank? Well, it's all stock stuff, isn't it? In other words, you believe that all you saw and heard tonight was only suggested to me. All these things you've seen existed only in my brain. Yes, I do.

What is your explanation? Mine is that the thing was trying to communicate with us. It was the thing that moved the table and tapped and made us see the little lights. Yes, but what is the thing? What is it? A spirit? Who's the thing? No, no, no. I don't know, as I told you, what the thing is. But I believe it to be an elemental. And what exactly is an elemental?

There are good things in this world and bad things, right? Well... Honesty is good, lying is bad. Impulses of some sort direct both sides. And some power suggests the impulses. Well, I went into this spiritualistic business impartially. I learned to expect to throw open the door into the soul. And I said, anyone may come in. Ah, and so you made yourself receptive to any imaginings. I...

Think. Something has applied for admission. The thing that tapped and turned the table and sent lights across it, as you saw. Now, in my theory, the control of the evil principles in the world is in the hands of a power which entrusts its errands to the things I call elementals. Hmm. Well, that is only your theory. Oh, they've been seen. I'm sure they'll be seen again.

I did not, and I do not, ask good spirits only to come in. Nor do I want an elemental. I only threw open a door. I believe the thing has come into my house, and it is establishing communication with me. I want to find out. What is it? In the name of Satan, if necessary. What is it?

What was that? Something blew a page of music off the piano at the other end of the room. It's a current of air. It's coming towards us. Look. It's ruffling those daffodils. And these candles. I can feel it myself now. It's cold. It's on me now. Look. Now. The fire. See the flames. Funny, wasn't it? Oh.

Has the elemental gone up the chimney? Oh, no, no, no. The thing only passed us. It only... Frank? What's that? Look. There, on the wall. I see it. It's a shadow. The shadow of an enormous slug. I see it.

At one end, a sort of head. There's a lobbing tongue out of the mouth. It's moving. It's moving. Now, now it's fading. It's just going away. I said I was ready for any, any visitor to come in.

And, by heaven, we've got a beauty. Even then, I was still convinced that I was only taking observations of a most curious case of disordered brain, accompanied by the most vivid and remarkable thought transference.

And when, after six months of constant watching, the thing did not appear to us again, I began to feel that we were really wasting time. However, as a last resort, I suggested that we get in a so-called medium, induce hypnotic sleep, and see if we could learn anything further. As before, we sat round the dining room table, Louis and I, and Cyril Miles, the young medium. The room was not quite dark, so that I could see quite clearly what happened.

The first step was to put young Miles into a light, hypnotic sleep, which I did with ease. There. Yes, he's asleep now. I feel we are going to see something this time. I'm sure. Well, if not, this is my last experiment. As I told you, I do. Hank. He's here again. It's with us. Well, we want more than rats. We... Louis, look. I see it. I see it.

It's beginning to slide across the table. Its shape is clearer this time, Louis. It's luminous all the way along. Look now, veering up before the medium, moving its head in front of him like a frank book. Is he awake? Can he see it? No, no, no, he's asleep. But his face, I never saw such terror.

He must see it. No, I tell you. He'll sleep till I wake him. This is... Frank, it's got him. Well, quick, get hold of it. I can't. Frank, it does nothing. Don't move. Frank, we've got to kill him. Wait, wait. I know. The lights. Turn on the lights. Lights. Oh.

It's gone. On the floor, Frank. Is he dead? I don't know. Help me up with him. Here, into the chair. That's it. Frank, look at his throat. Those marks, see? Two little punctures. They're bleeding slightly. I'll see if I can wake him. Frank.

It's all right, Miles. My throat's aching.

Is this what? It's nothing. Do you not remember what happened, Julian? No. No, I never have any recollection of what happened in the trance. That's elementary, Louis. A hypnotic sleep is different from ordinary sleep in that no recollection whatever persists. My throat. It's a little painful. What's that?

Some poor scuffle? There was nothing unusual. You wrestled with something while you were asleep and sustained a scratch or two, that's all. Oh, I see. I'll call a cab. I think you'd better go home and rest. Dr. Fielder will attend to the scratches on your throat. The scratches on his throat? Oh, if I had known that night what was to happen later. I lay awake thinking...

The elemental had been there in a form that could be seen and felt. But, I told myself, it was only a thing of twilight. The sudden kindling of the light had shown us there was nothing there. In the struggle, perhaps the medium had clutched his own throat. Perhaps I had grasped Louie's sleep. Perhaps he had grasped mine. But, though I said these things to myself, I'm not sure that I believed them in the same way that I believe the sun will rise tomorrow. I was so busy with my practice that it was a week before I saw Louie again.

I brought news that I expected would shock him. But it was I who received the greater shock. I thought I noticed a change in his appearance, but it was not until I had announced my news that the full realization came upon me. Have I seen the evening paper? No. What does it say? It's about Cyril Miles, our young medium. He died this morning of blood poisoning. Good. Louis, what... I say good.

We have our proof now, haven't we? Our elemental is no longer a thing of our imagination. It exists.

It has power. And this is the proof. Power, Elemental. It's no thing of mine. Oh, yes, it is. We've both seen it. Did we imagine those marks on Cyril Miles' throat? Did we imagine his death? He died from blood poisoning. He may have come anyhow by those scratches. You know that isn't true. Frank, look at me.

Look into my eyes. Now, tell me you don't believe. Louis. Tell me. Oh, God help you, Louis. God help us both. What do I need with God's help?

I have a power on my side now that no man has ever had before. Think of it, Frank. Those two elemental forces that have striven through the centuries for the mastery of the world, good and evil, and from the depths of hell, I have summoned up the element of evil. Mine is the power and the mastery. The Power and the Mastery

I fled from Louis Field's house, his mocking laughter ringing in my ears till I'd entered my own front door. And at that moment, I wished myself on the other side of London, no longer neighbor to the creature that Louis had become. After that, I avoided him as much as I could, but it was not always possible.

Several weeks after the last meeting I've described, I was just turning into my house late one night when I was startled by a terrified screaming from his house. And in spite of myself, I rushed to the door and finding it open, I ran in. And the sounds had stopped by the time I found him. Louie! Louie! Louie, what's the matter? What's been happening? You heard, did you? No.

What did you think it was? My elemental got out of control? Louis, what were those screams? What... Oh, good heavens! Now you see it. A moment too late. I couldn't prologue its death any further. The cat...

Louie, what have you done? Material for a scientific paper, my dear doctor. Trying to get to the bottom of the ridiculous myth that a cat has nine lives. You out of your mind. Nine lives. Silly, isn't it? There are grounds for the belief, though. I proved that. A cat hangs off, Frank, hangs off. Hates to give up. I was trying to see how much pain it could stand.

before it would give itself up to death. Torture! Isn't that what cats do with minds? The cat and mouse game, Frank. Only I was the cat, and my cat was the mouse. That's only fair, isn't it? Does a cat and a mouse horrify you? Then why should I? Louis. The power, Frank. The power. The power.

More than ever I tried to avoid him, but it was hard to forget. I thought of moving, but something held me to that place. I knew that sometime something had to be resolved. But before the end came, I spent one more evening with Louis. Strange stories had begun to come to me, stories of his depravity in all branches of his life and morals. It was becoming a matter of common knowledge.

I would shudder as I passed his house, expecting I knew not what fiendish thing to be looking at me from the window. And then, one night, as I came home and entered my living room, there he was, seated in a comfortable chair, grinning evilly at me as I stood in the doorway. Come in, come in. Make yourself at home. Louis! It's all right, I didn't break in. Your housekeeper admitted. Oh. Aren't you going to sit down?

Yes, of course. As a matter of fact, now that you're here, there is something I want to say to you. Good. Good. Fire away. I won't be subtle. I've heard things, Louis. Everywhere in town there's talk of you. Your behavior has become a scandal. People come to me with stories knowing we're friends. I try to turn them aside. Tell them anything. Yes.

Louie, won't you let me help you? It's not you that's doing all these things. You're possessed. You're mentally ill. I could help you, Louie. Gossip and scandal, eh? I know it's all over town, isn't it? But I've a story to tell you, Frank. We haven't got far yet. It only happened today. What? What is it, Louie? I was turned out of my club for cheating at cards.

No way. Sounds like a cheap novel, doesn't it? But it was great. You should have seen the prank. Gentlemen, honest and true, shocked to their very souls. It would have been bad enough if I'd merely cheated. But what rocked them was that I stood up and laughed out loud, ridiculed them for their self-righteous faces. And then I stood there and looked into their eyes.

And they were silent. They were frightened. They felt the power that was in the room. I despised them. And when I turned on my heel and walked out, they sat there in a dumb and terrified silence. Oh, Frank, the power. The elemental power.

I never saw him again. Until a week ago. If you were at the inquest, you heard my evidence.

But to no court on earth, to no human being could I describe the sound that filled the street and woke me from sleep that ghastly morning. I ran out of the house in my pajamas, out into the street, and the policeman on the beat had heard it too, and together we burst open the door into Louis' house. The screaming had ceased a moment before we gained entry. He was there in the hall.

Dead when we reached him. Both jugulars were severed and torn. It was dawn, early and dusky, when I got back to my house next door. Even as I went in, something seemed to push by me. Something soft and slimy. It could not be Louis' imagination this time. Since then, I've seen glimpses of it every evening. I'm awakened at night by tappings.

And in the shadows of my room, there sits something more substantial than a shadow. In the corner of my room, there sits something more substantial than a shadow.

That is the end of the statement Dr. Ashton dictated to me, Inspector. Exactly when did he give this statement to you, Mr. Sayers? He finished dictating about an hour before I met you here in his house. Were you the first to get there? Yes. One of the neighbors summoned a constable, but it was five minutes before he arrived. Will you tell me exactly what happened? Well, I heard a terrible cry. It seemed to fill the street.

It must have been like the one he describes, that he heard the night Dr. Fielder died. Were you awake? Yes. I was reading over his statement. Immediately I heard the screaming. I dashed out onto the street and made for his house where it was coming from. His housekeeper was standing at the open door, speechless with terror. I pushed by and made my way to his study. Where was Dr. Ashton? On the floor in the study. He could have been dead at the most two minutes. There was no need to make an examination.

I could see his throat from where I stood. Both jugulars were severed and savagely torn. The theater 1030 has presented The Thing in the Hall. A Tale of the Supernatural by E.F. Benson. In radio version by Alan King.

Starring Henry Comer as Dr. Fielder and Chris Wiggins as Dr. Ashton. Alfred Gallagher was heard as Sayers, Alan King as the police inspector, and Cease Montgomery as Miles the Medium. Sound effects were by John Sliz. Technical operation, Fred Park. Theater 1030 is a CBC Toronto presentation. This is Bill Loren speaking. A whisperer! Whisperer!

Slade. Speaking. Are you ready? Already. What are my instructions? Now. Check. Presenting The Whisperer, starring Carlton Young. The Whisperer

The Whisperer, a brilliant man who losing his voice in an accident which crashed his vocal cords, worked his way deep within the crime syndicate to help destroy it from within. To the underworld, his familiar rattling hiss is the voice of authority to be obeyed without question.

Then a miracle of surgery performed by Dr. Benjamin Lee restored his natural voice, enabling him to resume his real identity. Now as Philip Galt's aggressive young attorney, he skirts the thin edges of death living his dual role.

For as the whisperer, he sets in motion the forces of the syndicate in Central City. Then, as Philip Galt, uses his knowledge to fight the organized network of crime which seeks to control the fate of millions in cities and towns across the nation.

Now in Dr. Lee's office, we find Ellen Norris, the doctor's nurse and the only other person besides the doctor who knows of Phil's dual identity, watching anxiously as Phil, speaking in the voice of the Whisperer, makes his report to a superior in the syndicate. New York. Slade. Given instructions. Will report progress.

Now? That's right, Ellen. Now. What does it mean, Phil? You mean specifically? I don't know. It's designed to set something in motion. Right now. Someone's murder. When the syndicate gives that kind of an order, it usually means at least one murder. And you had to pass the instructions on. Just another indication how the syndicate works, Ellen. One hand never knows what the other hand is doing. This Slade is probably from out of town. He has his instructions already. All he was waiting for was the word to start.

I had to give it to him. Every other time, Phil, you had a lead of some kind to help. You knew who the victim was, you knew what was going to happen, and you could do something about it. But now... Yes, I... What are you doing, Phil? The only lead I have is the telephone number where I reach Slade. But how are you... The phone company won't give it to me, but the police can get the address. Lieutenant Denver? Excuse me, honey. Homicide, please. I have an idea the lieutenant's already suspicious of your extra-legal activities, Phil.

How long? Hi, Lieutenant. Need a favor? Uh-huh. I've got a phone number. I need the address. Cheshire 1789. That's right. No, it's just a little checking on a client. Yeah, I'm at Ellen's office. Thanks. He must be in a good mood. Lieutenant's plenty smart, Ellen. He knows I wouldn't want the address for any reason that might kick back. Little does he know. In this case, what he doesn't know might save him some grief. If you can stop whatever it is from happening. Yes, if...

Now, sweetheart, it's kind of late, and I'm going to be on the move pretty soon. How's about meeting you later for supper? You can get a sandwich now, maybe take a show or something, and then I'll join you. Mm-mm. It's past dinner time already, and you haven't had anything to eat since lunch. I know. I'm starving. Well, then... And every time I have an appointment with you for dinner, it's always delayed anywhere from three

to five hours. You see what I mean? The best thing right now is for you to grab a bite and meet me later. Consequently, since I'm a creature of habit, I've got myself into the habit of irregular dinner hours. Now's your chance to get regular. I'm staying with you. But don't you... No buts. I'd be wondering about what was happening all the time. Ruin my digestion. I'm with you, lover. Wait a minute. Hello? Oh, yes. Hello, Lieutenant. Uh-huh. Yes, I know where that is. Uh-huh.

Well, thanks. I'll split my fee with you on this case. Got the address? Yes. You're not very happy about it. Well, it isn't a house. It isn't listed under any name. It's the Lyceum Theater. A pay station. Backstage. Oh? Coming? With you, lover. Thank you.

Oh, look what's playing, Phil. Romeo and Juliet. I thought that would be a nice way to spend an evening. In the theater? Maybe it'll be more entertaining backstage. Not that I don't think you're brilliant, darling, but just how are you going to get any information if that phone was a pay station? Seems to me this job's just about hopeless. Just about hopeless for the somebody on the other end, too, Ellen. We've got to try. Here we are. Let me do the talking. Don't I always? Come on.

What can I do for you? Hello, old-timer. We're looking for someone. Figured that. Who? A fellow by the name of Slade. Slade? That's right. Don't know any Slade. Not connected with the company? Nope. Can anybody come off the street and use that pay phone on the wall over there? Nope. Anybody use it in the last half hour? Nope. Oh, say, wait a minute. Yeah, there was somebody come along with Judy. Hung around the phone right around 7.30. When it rang, he answered it.

Guess it was for him, all right. I see. You say he came in with Judy? Uh-huh. Can we speak to her? Well, if you want to wait around, you probably can. She went out about five minutes ago. Went out? With the man who answered the phone? A minute after.

She asked me which way he went, and she went out. Kind of in a hurry, too. And she's due on the stage in about 15 minutes. If she don't get back quick, they'll probably have to use her understudy. I see. You don't know where she went, do you, old-timer? Well, she lives across the street and down the block. Hathaway's. Hathaway's? Second-hand furniture store. Her uncle owns it. Living quarters upstairs.

She lives there now to be near the theater. Thanks. But she ain't there. Oh? Leastways, she's not answering the phone there. Doville, the director, called and got no answer. So thanks. Let's go, Ellen. Hathaway's. Hathaway. Here it is. How do you do? Mr. Hathaway?

Vladimir Hathaway at your service. We're looking for a young lady by the name of Judy. Oh, why, Judy's at the theater down the street. She's appearing in Romeo and Juliet, but I don't think you'll be able to speak to her not until she's off stage. Well, she's not there. She came home. She does live here. Why, of course. Judy's my niece.

Of course she lives here, upstairs. But she isn't home. I'd know if she were. She left here almost an hour ago. And didn't come back? No, no, of course not. Oh.

Quite a shop you have here. Thank you. Could I interest you in some furniture? I have a dining room set that's almost new right over here. No, thanks. A lounge chair? Most comfortable thing in the world. We'll think of you when we set up housekeeping. Oh, I thought you were... Married? Not yet. Judy has a friend by the name of Slade, hasn't she? Slade? Why, not that I know of. You know anybody by that name? Yes.

Slade, no, no. Well, I don't think we can do any good here, Alan. Is something wrong with Judy? For a loving uncle, you finally came around to getting concerned. I don't know if anything's wrong. But if anything is wrong, I would like to know. We're trying to reach a fellow by the name of Slade, and Judy apparently knows him. Oh, I see.

Perhaps one of her active friends. I don't know them all. It's hard to keep track of... Phil! I heard it. I beg pardon? That was a shot. Where's the stairway to the upstairs? A shot? That's right. Where is it? I am a little hard of hearing, but what kind of shot? Pistol, if I'm not hard of hearing, where's the stairs? But if it's a shot... Stop stalling, Hathaway. Ellen, try that door. Here, Phil. Yes, through that door and up the stairs to the right.

It was a shot, Phil. I know. Through here, Ellen. I did it. I did it. Phil, on the floor. I see him. Phil? He's dead. I shot him. Better let me have the gun, Judy. Slade? I shot him. All right, you shot him. Is his name Slade?

Yes. Better give me the gun, Judy. No. Come on, Judy. No. What is it? What's happened? Judy, where's David? Stay away. All of you, get back. You can't run away. Stay back or I'll shoot. Quick, after her. Locked. Come on, Hathaway, a little help here. Come on, let's go. Let's try this one now.

It's locked, too. Any other way out, Hathaway? What? Any other way out? Yes, through that back door, but it opens on an alleyway. Oh, it doesn't matter. She's gone by this time. What's this room? What do you do here, behind the showroom? I do stone cutting, a hobby. They're gone. Gone? What's gone? My diamonds. You cut diamonds for a hobby? David...

David took them. Whoa, whoa. That's the second time David's cropped up. Who's David? He must have taken them. All right. Now, who is David? They were going to get married. David and Judy. All arranged. When the show closed, get married. Was he here when we came in? Yes. Upstairs with Judy. And Slade? Yes. You lied to us then. Yes. I was afraid.

Slade came in and started talking to me about buying some furniture, just waiting. And then Judy came running in and they both went upstairs. David was there. Not when we got there. How did he get out? Probably hiding right in this room here when we went upstairs. All right, Mr. Hathaway. You better call the police. Police? Oh, yes. The diamonds. No, Hathaway. The dead man. Homicide. Yes. Yes.

Yes, Judy shot him. That's right. But he had a gun in his hand, Hathaway. It was probably self-defense. Hello, New York. Central City reporting. Oh!

manslayed has been killed we will put operation x22 into effect rocco urgent operation x22

You will cover the north side of Central City. Use every available man. Find Judy Forrest. She will lead you to David Clark. Shoot to kill.

Nick. Urgent. Operation X-22. You will cover the east side of Central City. Use every available man. Find Judy Forrest. She will lead you to David Clark. Shoot to kill.

Operation X-22. You will cover the south and west sides of Central City. Use every available man. Find Judy Forrest. She will lead you to me.

Oh, was your phone called? Come on, sit down, Phil. No, thanks. What's wrong, Phil? You look a bit... Operation X-22. What's that? A dragnet. A syndicate dragnet. For Judy? Uh-huh. Poor, frightened kid. To kill her? Her and David Clark. Why? If I knew that, I'd probably understand a lot of things, Ellen. Like why Hathaway is such a confounded liar. What chance does she have, Phil? None. What are we going to do? Try to find her before the syndicate does.

Try to find her. All right, Phil. Finish your sandwich. Mm-mm. I've just lost my appetite. You are listening to The Whisperer, the story of Philip Galt, who skirts the thin edges of death, living his dual role. The Whisperer

A dragnet, not a police dragnet, but a syndicate dragnet, more deadly, more vicious, with orders to shoot on sight. Philip Galt, in his guise as the Whisperer, has passed along the syndicate's orders. And now, without knowing where Judy Forrest is, he must protect her from the dragnet he himself set in motion.

Seems like such a hopeless time to be finding Judy. We have one lead, Hathaway. Seems like such a bewildered kind of man, Phil. Much too bewildered. What do you mean? Those diamonds of his, for one thing. What about them? Diamonds in a broken down place like that? And first he said they were his stones, a hobby. Then he said it was part of a job and they belonged to someone else. Oh, Ellen, something's wrong there. You didn't have to take the car if you wanted to go back to his store, Phil.

You're going past it now? Uh-huh. Why? In case the store is being watched. By whom? The syndicate, Ellen. This is a logical place for them to pick up a lead, too. We just walk in off the street. We look like customers. If we drive up, they take special notice of us and the car. Oh. We'll park down here and walk back. Bill. Bill.

Any ideas why Judy shot that slave fellow? None. Or how David is mixed up in it? No. But I can take a guess. Okay. What's your guess? My instructions to Slade were now. That's right. We find Slade in Judy's apartment. Therefore, whatever Slade was going to do, it had something to do with Judy or... David. Yes. And Hathaway said David and Judy were going to be married. Mm-hmm.

The slave is probably going to kill one of them. Maybe both. All right, so far. Now what about the diamond? What about David taking them? That's something I can't even guess about. Here we are. Yes? Can I help you? I thought the police would be here by now, Hathaway. Police? You know, the body upstairs. The body? Yes.

Upstairs? I don't understand. Oh, so that's the way you want to play. Ellen. Yes, Phil? Take a look up there, huh? All right. You must be mistaken. There is no body upstairs. I can't understand what you mean. Who took it away? You must excuse me. I'm very busy. And what about the diamonds that were stolen? Reported that yet? Diamonds? Stolen? Yes.

I have no diamonds. Now, please, I don't know what that young woman is looking for in me. Don't you, Hathaway? My, my, are you joking? A woman's life is at stake, Hathaway. No, he's not there. There's nobody upstairs. I know. Well, Hathaway? What do you want? Where's Judy? I don't know. What do you know, Hathaway? Do you know the syndicate has a dragnet out for her? No, I don't. Oh, yes, yes. I don't know where she is.

They will kill me. They will. Who will? The syndicate. The diamonds. Cutting them up and passing them along. Part of the syndicate. A small link in the chain. David. What about him? He stole them from me. I'm responsible for them. I don't know what they'll do to me now. What about Slade? I don't know about him. David, part of the syndicate, wanted to quit.

Judy wanted him to quit so they could get married. She didn't want him involved in... So Slade came around to kill David? Yes. And Judy shot Slade to prevent him from killing David? Yes, yes, please. Please, you've got to protect me. They came and took Slade away. They must be watching this place. They... maybe even now. They know you are here.

They'll know I've talked to you. Where's Judy? I don't know. I swear to you, I don't know. And David? You are not with the syndicate? I'm trying to help Judy. Yes. I don't know where he is, but I can tell you where he lives. Where? 1677 Cedar Lake Drive. Have you told anybody else? No, no. Didn't they ask you? I told them. I did not know. David is a good boy, really.

I don't want his life on my conscience. And Judy? Maybe she's there with him. She's my niece. Really, she is. I love her. I love her like she was my own child. Comes out in the night out of all the dirty, rotten cesspools. Slimy things, arms and tentacles of the octopus syndicate.

Touching a good kid, touching a girl who's only sin is to love someone caught in their web. Please, you can't do anything. You can't stop them. You don't know them. When they start out to do something, they finish it. Yeah. What about those stones? Why'd David take them? I don't know. Maybe...

Maybe because he wanted to hit back at them. Phil, let's hurry. They will be following. We'll go out the back way. Our car is parked in the next street. We'll go through the alley. After, I give the police an anonymous tip. Well, is it clear, Ellen? Does it begin to make sense? Yes, Phil. David wanted out. He wanted to quit the syndicate, and they wouldn't let him. Afraid he might inform on them. So they had Slade waiting and ready. And the whisperer said, now.

And Slade went after David at Judy's place. Only Judy shot Slade first. Yes, it makes sense. It makes sense another way, too. How? What happens when the Whisperer quits? He won't. They'll get a dragnet out for him, too. He won't quit. Not until the whole organization is exposed and destroyed. And what happens when they find out the Whisperer is really Phil Galt? They won't find out. You're always so positive. You're always so sure. But one day you'll make a slip, or they'll begin to suspect you.

All they have to do, Phil, just suspect that Phil Gould is a whisperer. This is Cedar Lake Drive. Can you spot some of the numbers? You haven't even been listening. Yes, I have, Ellen. Where are we? Fourteen hundred block. Then it's two streets down. Reach around behind you, sweetheart, and take out that package, will you? Yeah, that's it. What is it? Open it. That's right. I'm going to pull up here. We'll walk the rest of the way back. What is this, Phil? Strings, rubber bands, elastics?

Attach it. Cute, isn't it? There's nothing cute about a gun. That's a .25, a toy. A toy that can kill. Here. I'm going to put it on under my jacket. But what are all those rubber bands and things? That was originally designed for a card shop, Ellen. You know, to drop aces out of a sleeve at the propitious moment. Oh? But the gun? That's my refinement. Instead of having an ace up my sleeve, I've got a .25.

All I have to do is drop my hand fast and the gun falls into my palm. An ace, too. An ace of spades. Phil. I want you to stay here. No. This might be dangerous. I want you to stay here. No. Please, honey. No. All right. Then we've got to hurry. I don't think we've been followed over here. It has shown up by now. Maybe we can get there before the shooting starts. That's why you strapped on that contraption. Just precautions. Uh-huh. That's how certain you are you'll be able to get out of this without shooting. Oh.

Those buildings are fire traps, Phil. Converted to rooming houses. Yes? Oh, David Clark in. How am I supposed to know? You think I keep track of all the people who go in here day in and day out? I'll never get any of my work done. If you'll just tell us what apartment he's in. Apartment? Upstairs. When you get to the top floor, there's a stairway to the attic. That's his apartment. Thank you. Oh.

Thank me for nothing. Just keep the place decent. No hijinks, parties, and loud music. I got other rumors to think about. I can't allow... Yes, of course. Thank you. So far, so good. If he's up there, and if they haven't found out... And Judy? She's probably with him. That's why I think they're here. Hold up. Good to work off a heavy dinner. What dinner? Shall I knock?

Well, what do we do? Just go in. Nobody home. Well, it appears the birds have flown. Hold it. Don't turn around. I've got a gun. Oh, it's quite a trick, hiding behind the door so when it's open it conceals you. That's the second time you've done that, Clowney. See if they're armed. All right, Dave. For shoulder holsters, jacket pockets, hip pockets. No, he isn't. All right, go through her purse. Excuse me. It's perfectly all right. You don't have to be polite, Judy. Just throw it.

Yes. There's nothing here. All right. Back across the room, both of you. What are you trying to do, David? Who are you? My name is Galt. What do you want? How do you fit in this? I happen to be following a man by the name of Slade. Knew him a long time ago. A hoodlum, murderer, part of the syndicate. What do you know about the syndicate? Enough, David. Enough to know that anyone who gets wound up with the syndicate has taken a step he can't take back.

Enough to know that if they mark someone for death, there's usually no escape. There'll be an escape this time. Not if you go about it this way. I'm here to try to help you. I don't need any help. Now, that's silly. Yes. Please, can you help? Tell him to put that gun away. Dave, please. No, Judy, no. This might be just con on his part. I'm not taking any chances. You took all your chances when you worked for the syndicate. Well, I'm not working for them now. No, you're not. Where are the diamonds, David?

You know an awful lot about me and the syndicate and the diamonds. Now, what else do you know? Just one thing that makes any sense. Phil. Take it easy, lady. Outside in the street, a car. It's them. You brought the whole mob. They didn't follow me. How else could they get here? I found out from Hathaway. Don't you think they might have found out, too? Yeah, that's right. Well, David, what are you going to do? Oh, they wouldn't let me quit. Well, I'll see they don't get their lousy diamonds. I'll see to that. The dirty, rotten murders, I'll make them pay. And Judy? What about Judy? Will she pay, too? No.

Oh, Judy. David's my fault. No, Judy. I'm coming into the house. Judy. Judy.

Darling, this whole rotten mess, it's my fault, but I can't get away. Quick, David, what are you going to do? They're coming up the stairs. I'll show you what I'm going to do. You! Me? What do you want with Ellen? She's coming out with me. Oh, sure, I'm going to get her, but I'll get a few of them first. And you're going to help. You're going to be my shield. No, David. Hold on, David. You hold on. All right, sister, come on. That's your syndicate training coming through, David, but you're not taking Ellen with you. No, who's going to stop me? Look, it doesn't mean anything to me not to plug you now, too, and I'll offer you the hands up. All right, David. Let you get that gun.

Judy, get back. Here, Judy, the diamonds. Keep them. David. Okay, suckers. Judy. Judy, I made him pay. He's dead. David's dead. Easy, Judy, easy. It would have been a miracle. You can't run away from the syndicate. And you can't run away from the police. Still a police car.

I guess they took that anonymous tip. What's going on up here? Now, who are these dead men? They're blocking my doorway. I told you I run a respectable place and I don't want any trouble with the police. I'm afraid you're going to have some. Well, I'm going to call them. I don't want a bad name on my place. You're too late on both counts. Killing, shooting. It'll take a week to get this place cleaned up. Phil.

What about Judy? The syndicate won't bother her anymore. But the police will want to question her. But the instructions define Judy. To lead them to David. Oh. Judy? He... He was a good boy. He was. Got mixed up with him. He wanted to quit. Once you're in, there's only one way out. They took Hathaway in for questioning? Yes, in a prison term. And the two syndicate mugs that ran off in the car were killed in a gunfight with the police.

You know, Denver's had it all up pretty good for someone who wasn't in on her thing. Slade and four other members of the syndicate, dead. David, dead. Hathaway, a fence for stolen diamonds. And where does that leave Judy? Well, the police have the diamonds, so the syndicate won't be interested in her anymore. I had a little talk with her. Oh? While your back was turned. You know, sweetheart, she's a real trooper. Yes, I think she'll get over this. I'm sure she will.

I've got her out on bail. You've got her out? Uh-huh. I'm going to be handling her case. You know, being an attorney comes in handy at times. Especially when you can have such attractive clients. Oh? Is she attractive? I didn't notice. Why, Phil Galt. You may have been busy tonight, but you weren't blind. You sound jealous, Ellen.

Worried about my conferences with my new clients? As long as you keep them during business hours, no. Well, as a matter of fact, I have a conference scheduled for 11.30 tomorrow night. Oh. Backstage at the Lyceum Theater after the performance of Romeo and Juliet. Thought you might like to see it. Why not? Tis better to have seen Romeo and Juliet than never to have loved at all. Hello, New York.

Central City reporting. Mission accomplished. David Clark killed, but at great cost to the syndicate. I will check for further instructions with Nashville at midnight. The Whisperer.

Oh.

The Whisperer is based upon stories and characters created by Stetson Humphrey. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Carlton Young is starred as the Whisperer, Betty Moran as Ellen. Others in the cast were Sidney Miller, Stacey Harris, Ralph Moody, and Michael Ann Barrett. The Whisperer was written by Jonathan Twice, produced and directed by Bill Karn. Original music by Johnny Duffy. This is Don Rickles inviting you to listen next week to another exciting adventure with The Whisperer.

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

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

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